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Told off again.
Honestly, I didn’t really understand what I’d done wrong.
I thought I’d done my best.
But the result was the same, again.
On the way home, I jammed my earphones in and didn’t meet anyone’s eyes.
Outside the circle
Lunchtime has become a little heavy.
I can’t just slip into someone’s group, and yet being alone feels awkward too.
I decided to eat at my desk.
I looked at the screen, but nothing went in.
In the meeting room, someone is laughing.
It feels as if I’m the only one not in that circle.
Maybe it’s just my imagination.
But that “just my imagination” keeps piling up.
The morning I made a mistake
I sent an email to the wrong person.
Before I could report it, my boss noticed.
The tone of “How does this even happen?” stayed in my head.
I apologized.
I said I’d be more careful next time.
But honestly, I didn’t really know what to be careful about, or how.
Was it me who sighed, or my boss?
Maybe both.
Anger pointed outward solves nothing
There are nights I think it’s my boss’s fault.
It’s the way they talk.
It’s just that this place isn’t right for me.
Thinking so makes it a little easier.
But in the morning, I’m back in the same place.
Anger pointed outward solves nothing.
Somewhere, I already know that.
Focus on what you can control
I can’t change someone else’s mood.
I can’t change the air in the office.
Whether people like me isn’t mine to decide.
But what I say next.
How I move.
What I choose.
Those, at least, I can decide for myself.
Take the energy I was pointing outward, and focus it there.
Sometimes that alone starts to make a difference, little by little.
The table is different every time
Playing pool, you notice something.
The table is different every time.
How the balls roll, how the cushions bounce — shoot the same as yesterday, and you won’t get the same result.
Blaming the equipment changes nothing.
All you can do is look again at your own judgment.
The only thing you can control is your own shot.
I think the people at work are the same.
Everyone is a different person, with different conditions every time.
I think only about how I will shoot.
Even so, the bad days keep coming
I might get told off again.
There may be days I can’t find my way into the circle.
But I try turning my gaze, the one I kept pointed outward, back toward myself — just a little.
What was it I could do?
How will I play the next shot?
That question builds up, little by little.
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