the lived life

i work and think fast. i am open and not a kiss ass kind of person.

i set targets and drive those who work for me to meet the goals.

i balance the powers between my managers and i am not afraid to literally fight those who are in my way. i yelled at my CEO once.

i protected my team and i will fight to the best of my ability for them.

my life is always works, meetings, travelings, writings, works, meetings, travelings, writings. my CEO even forbade me to do meetings anymore.

i got what i want. i became what i dreamt of to do.

i become a monster to my body and a slave to my mind.

not until one day, i came home finding my mother paled to the ashes. her voice trembling, her lips whitish. she was so weak and her thin body lied down on the matress.

she looked at me with tears welled down as if to tell me something i didn't understand. dad was massaging her toes.

even in her sickness, she was asking me whether i had my dinner already. my heart sunk.

as i sat down eating my dinner, the taste became tasteless. i felt as if something was kicking me inside. i'm not ready to loose her, God. i haven't had chance to make her happy much less spending time with her. almost two thirds of my life were spent abroad.

that night, i realized i spent too much of my time working. when was the last time i sat down eating dinner with my parents? went to eat out on the weekends? chatted with them? or laughed with them? i couldn't think of any answer to satisfy my questions. and that night, stroking my mother's hand with warm lotion, i promised myself to take care of my parents more for i am the oldest of the children. that night, i prayed to ask God to show me the way to balance my life.

i am too occupied with the lived live i become and i tend to forget that they are still loved ones to take care of.