I tried to dissect envy,

and found it to be a mixture of desire, anger and bitterness.

Such happiness. To want such a happiness. To want to be happy.

Why is it that on this level,

you

seem to be the only person who radiates this kind of happiness?

I will have no bite of it.

Wanting it,

to have a feeling of longing that mingles with disgust and loathing.

What is the darkness that seeps from my bones?

What is the agony that weighs on our shoulders.

Like a pitcher plant beckons an ant,

or a moth, bedazzled by fire,

towards death

am I being lulled by the comfort of discomfort?

What a thought.

To be not lured by sweetness that I would enjoy,

I have been captured by a praying mantis that preys on

( what is this? )

Ironically, apparently based on McCelland’s theory, I don’t have the need for achievement or power, or rather, my main motivator is the need for affiliation.

If I had come to this realisation before the exam, I wonder if that might have made a difference.

To know people and to live in the same air of people who speak to me with recognition. I have spent two weeks on the 29th floor and come to the realisation that I couldn’t work in isolation for the rest of my life.

From the sheer happiness of having people smile at us, meeting someone’s eye in the elevator so tall your ears pop –

to the uncle in charge of the printers who asked me that afternoon if I had eaten.

If at the end of the third week my answer was, no I don’t think I could live in an environment like this, then that’s okay.

There are plenty of other places, an entirely different industry if we so fancied.

There’s nothing that rests on this.

So why do I find myself wishing that I enjoyed the work more?

Why is it that my thoughts turn back to this realisation that ‘if it isn’t right, then doesn’t that mean it’s wrong’

Unlike the ‘if it’s almost right’ tentative conclusion that it’s not everything I’ve ever wanted, but now I know so well that this is not right.

That it doesn’t fit us in the most important senses, that I could make the best of this but I wouldn’t –

Even more than wanting to fall in love with someone who professes to love you, wanting to enjoy something that doesn’t show me enough return for the effort that is going into it.

Ah, is this the trap of what playing hard to get is? But work is a disembodied being that cannot come to life and reward me, so am I waiting for death?

I am not killed by discomfort. But in these two weeks of not comfort, I have been making good what I can.

I am afraid of myself which betrays my better rationality. That this work does not energise me, that the people do not energise me, that in fact, my table does not energise me.

I wasn’t expecting a live current to enliven me, and I don’t want needless static either.

I am afraid of the things I have researched, have gathered materials to do and have served in emails.

I am almost, well, afraid of gazing upon with courage and finding that in spite of the chances that I got, I didn’t think the work was amazing.

While it was occasionally cool and the law was new and therefore both difficult and interesting, that my senior wouldn’t let me work past official hours even though I offered, or that reflecting the best idealism he says that you should ( ).

I look back on these two weeks with plenty of ups and downs that deviate from my baseline emotion.

I want to find a job that I am good at, where I can be of assistance to someone, where I will have a ready source of motivation, where I -want- to work more because I enjoy the work.

I wonder what sort of work, I would enjoy then.

The things I’ve gotten to do over the last two weeks are not objectionable in the least – they’re doable things, I like parts of research, listening closely, meeting your needs, but I don’t lose myself in the thrall of research.

Maybe it’s the topic – I didn’t feel this way dealing with my H3 where I was digging for diamonds and panned through rivers for flecks of gold.

Or maybe it is the goal, knowing that I am fighting against the current for the people in between us, to not have that connection or buy-in.

I think, the way I’m given facts is deliberately to obscure this from me, but is it a confidentiality concern or a motivation concern?

I can certainly be professional, but it must be inevitable that if I -want- to protect you, I will overturn the library.

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