Work?

I had this one bf till some time back. The only one I ever truly loved.

When it ended, I tried to replace love with work.

I worked so much that I would have no time to think of it. No time to think of him.

Sometimes, it'd become a bit too much. Any work I'd be given, I'd do.

But the truth is - work - it was being my saviour at the time.

I'd break without it.

Right now I'm at this point - there's no arrogance, but I sometimes feel that I am better than this place. That I am better than this work.

There's no arrogance. There is, in fact, a bitter sadness.

That I am not in a position where I can grow. Not in a state where I am learning; where I even want to learn.

It makes me sad.

And also sad that it might harden me. (However necessary.)

That it may diminish my sense of wonder.

That it may kill my inner believer.

Just like love did.

[Train of thoughts is lost now.]