Colleague Relieving Quotes

Jobs and his team went to a Xerox dealer to look at the Star as soon as it was released. But he deemed it so worthless that he told his colleagues they couldn’t spend the money to buy one. “We were very relieved,” he recalled. “We knew they hadn’t done it right, and that we could—at a fraction of the price.” A few weeks later he called Bob Belleville, one of the hardware designers on the Xerox Star team. “Everything you’ve ever done in your life is shit,” Jobs said, “so why don’t you come work for me?” Belleville did, and so did Larry Tesler.

It’s that surreal time of morning, early enough that night workers are sleepily making their way home whilst others wait at bus stops to open up coffee shops, or to relieve colleagues from their dawn shift. The in-betweenness of it feels vaguely reassuring, as though I could slip right in around these people with places to go and things to do without them noticing me. As though I am part of yesterday whilst they head towards today.

There was also the issue of his hygiene. He was still convinced, against all evidence, that his vegan diets meant that he didn’t need to use a deodorant or take regular showers. “We would have to literally put him out the door and tell him to go take a shower,” said Markkula. “At meetings we had to look at his dirty feet.” Sometimes, to relieve stress, he would soak his feet in the toilet, a practice that was not as soothing for his colleagues.

Welcome to our humble shed, my little chickens. Pettersson is my name and I am the custodian of this place along with my colleague, Hybinett. Your presence here has been requested in order to mend your sinful ways. Names?’ It is the young watchman who points and answers. ‘Anna Stina Knapp. Karin Ersson.’ Pettersson inspects them both. Anna Stina lowers her gaze in the way she has learned that such men prefer. The Dragon stares back at him with defiance. She is swaying on the spot in order to relieve her pressing needs. Pettersson points at her with a hand that is as large as a smoked ham.

In the United States in 1907, a book entitled Three Acres and Liberty seized the imagination of the reading public. The author, Bolton Hall, began by taking for granted the awkwardness of having to work for someone else, and so advised his readers that they could win their freedom by leaving their offices and factories and buying three acres apiece of inexpensive farmland in middle America. This acreage would soon enable them to grow enough food for a family of four and to build a simple but comfortable home, and best of all, relieve them of any need ever again to flatter or negotiate with colleagues and superiors.

One final note here: you’ve probably noticed that whenever I mention serial killers, I always refer to them as “he.” This isn’t just a matter of form or syntactical convenience. For reasons we only partially understand, virtually all multiple killers are male. There’s been a lot of research and speculation into it. Part of it is probably as simple as the fact that people with higher levels of testosterone (i.e., men) tend to be more aggressive than people with lower levels (i.e., women). On a psychological level, our research seems to show that while men from abusive backgrounds often come out of the experience hostile and abusive to others, women from similar backgrounds tend to direct the rage and abusiveness inward and punish themselves rather than others. While a man might kill, hurt, or rape others as a way of dealing with his rage, a woman is more likely to channel it into something that would hurt primarily herself, such as drug or alcohol abuse, prostitution, or suicide attempts. I can’t think of a single case of a woman acting out a sexualized murder on her own. The one exception to this generality, the one place we do occasionally see women involved in multiple murders, is in a hospital or nursing home situation. A woman is unlikely to kill repeatedly with a gun or knife. It does happen with something “clean” like drugs. These often fall into the category of either “mercy homicide,” in which the killer believes he or she is relieving great suffering, or the “hero homicide,” in which the death is the unintentional result of causing the victim distress so he can be revived by the offender, who is then declared a hero. And, of course, we’ve all been horrified by the cases of mothers, such as the highly publicized Susan Smith case in South Carolina, killing their own children. There is generally a particular set of motivations for this most unnatural of all crimes, which we’ll get into later on. But for the most part, the profile of the serial killer or repeat violent offender begins with “male.” Without that designation, my colleagues and I would all be happily out of a job.

The days turned slowly, somewhat with the rhythm of a gently swirling merry-go-round from which one simply cannot get off. They seemed for everybody to be suffused with hate and its variants. One detested, for example—and without quite wanting to—other cars in the morning rush-hour traffic. Later in the day, one felt envious of, or contempt for, one’s office colleagues and the relish with which they played—over their teacups and through their coffee breaks—their games of one-upmanship that would be disrupted only when the acid in their tongues descended to gnaw at their stomach linings or they felt the first paralysing jabs of their hearts going on the blink. Even when, during the day, to relieve stress—except that, paradoxically, it seemed instead to sharpen the desolation, illumine more pitilessly the bleakness, the vanity of their futures—even when one of them throbbed to touch some proximate human, that lust too seemed destructive and replete with hate, a form of battering rancour.

Bob, Bob, I was joking,” I said. I smiled, and I must admit to feeling slightly gratified at how poorly my colleagues had coped in my absence. “A joke, Eleanor! Well, that’s a great sign—you must be on the mend, then,” Bob said, sounding relieved, either because of the joke or because I was getting better—or both, I supposed. “I’ll be back on Monday, Bob,” I said. “I’m ready.” My voice was firm, confident. “Great! And you’re sure it’s the right time? Och, that’s grand, Eleanor,” he said. “I’ll look forward to seeing you on Monday, then.” I could tell he was being genuine because of all the warmth that was coming down the phone. Your voice changes when you’re smiling, it alters the sound somehow. “Thank you very much for being so understanding about all of . . . about everything, Bob,” I said, a lump forming in my throat. “Thank you for your support. I’ve been meaning to say . . . I’m sorry if I haven’t always been a very . . . enthusiastic employee over the years . . .” “Ach, away you go,” he said, and I could almost picture him shaking his head. “The place wouldn’t be the same without you, Eleanor, it really wouldn’t. You’re an institution.” I heard his mobile phone ringing. He tutted. “I’m so sorry, but I’ve got to get this, Eleanor—it’s a new client. Now, you take care of yourself, and we’ll see you on Monday, right?

James Young Simpson studied medicine in Edinburgh, Scotland, graduating in 1832. By the mid-1840s, Simpson had climbed the ranks to become a professor of midwifery in Edinburgh, relieving the pain of childbirth with ether, like his American colleagues. But Simpson wasn’t satisfied. He wanted a more potent agent, one that was pleasant to inhale, worked quicker, and didn’t cause vomiting upon awakening. He settled on chloroform, a combination of hydrogen, carbon, and chlorine. On November 4, 1847, Simpson invited two of his assistants, James Duncan and George Keith, and some of his friends, including a Ms. Petrie, to a dinner party. When the dinner was over, he asked his guests to sniff a variety of volatile gases, including chloroform. Duncan and Keith immediately lost consciousness, falling under the table. Ms. Petrie also lost consciousness, but not before declaring, “I’m an angel! I’m an angel! Oh, I’m an angel!” The next day, without animal studies, clinical trials, or federal approval, Simpson administered chloroform to a woman during a particularly painful delivery. “I placed her under the influence of chloroform,” recalled Simpson, “by moistening half a teaspoon of the liquid onto a pocket handkerchief [and placing it] over her mouth and nostrils. The child was expelled in about twenty minutes. When she awoke, [the mother] observed to me that she had enjoyed a very comfortable sleep.” The parents were so elated that they named their daughter Anesthesia. On November 10, 1847, Simpson told a group of colleagues what he had done. Ten days later, he described his experience in a medical journal, claiming that chloroform was more potent and easier to administer than nitrous oxide, and quicker to induce unconsciousness and less flammable than ether. Now the entire medical world knew about it.

Does What I Think Really Matter? Ronnie Littleton Pause for just a moment and try to not think. Keep trying. It appears to be impossible to stop thinking, doesn’t it? Thinking is a necessary and unavoidable part of life. Not only that, our thoughts actually shape who we are, what we believe, what we do, and how we treat others. If our thoughts are this powerful, it seems obvious that we should avoid incorrect thoughts, for incorrect thoughts will lead to problems as we make decisions and form opinions based on bad information. On the other hand, correct thoughts will lead to good outcomes. This is why the Apostle Paul commands believers to transform their thinking (Rm 12:2). George Washington, our first president, became ill in 1799. One of the treatments prescribed for his illness was bloodletting—cutting open a vein to allow a specific amount of blood to flow out. Bloodletting was a fairly common practice at the time. It was believed that bad blood was the cause of fever, and that by letting some out, the fever would be relieved. We now know that this was not just incorrect thinking, it was dangerous. A wrong belief led to a wrong practice that may have actually hastened Washington’s death. The treatment was intended to heal, but was actually harmful. The physician who treated Washington had a good motive for his actions, and no doubt his course of treatment would have been supported by his medical colleagues; good motives and consensus of opinion, however, cannot make up for bad ideas. Since our ideas, opinions, and feelings have a big impact on what we do, and since they may be mistaken even if they match what everyone around us believes, where can we turn to know for certain what is right? One thing we can do is train ourselves to think logically. Logic is the study of reasoning principles—in other words, how we make valid inferences. In many cases it allows us to identify where our thinking has gone wrong and where we have bought into beliefs that are false. Nothing that is true can be illogical, so the use of logic is a filter for untruth. Logic and truth are not the same things, however. Think of logic as the plastic container that holds the milk in your refrigerator. The milk represents truth (a belief that corresponds to reality). If the plastic jug is full of holes, it could never hold the milk. On the other hand, if the container is sound, it will hold the milk. Now, just because the milk jug is valid does not necessarily mean that it has any milk in it, or that the milk is okay to drink. In a similar way, you can be a very logical person and yet miss the truth because of biases or inadequate information. In such cases, your wrong ideas may lead to bad consequences, such as wrong beliefs about God. Thus, we must always think logically and consult the sure source of ultimate truth: the Bible. Since what you think matters now and forever, you cannot afford to do otherwise.

In 2000, Christine Heim and colleagues suggested that sexual abuse in childhood had the effect of “sensitizing” women to stress in adulthood, meaning their physiological response to stress was actually heightened compared to other people.

In my experience, triggers are the prime reason that men and women end up retreating to gender silos, narrowing their experience and depriving themselves of useful connections. That’s what happened when Jen enlisted Chantal to commiserate with her after the meeting in which Mark received credit for her idea. Sharing her resentment with a female colleague may have temporarily relieved the emotional distress Jen felt at being disregarded. But venting her feelings only reinforced the story she was telling herself to explain what had happened: “Men just can’t listen to women!” This increased the likelihood of her remaining stuck in a negative groove. It’s the stories we tell ourselves when we feel triggered that keep us dug in and limit our ability to frame an effective response. Here’s how the process works: First, the trigger kicks off an emotional reaction that blindsides us. We feel a rush of adrenaline, a sinking in the pit of our stomach, a recoil, a blinding rage, or a snide “of course.” Or we may simply feel confusion. Our immediate impulse may be to lash out. But if we’re in a work situation, we fear what this could cost us, so we try to suppress our feelings and move on. When this doesn’t succeed, we may grab the first opportunity to complain to a sympathetic colleague, which is why so much time at work gets consumed in gripe sessions and unproductive gossip. In this way, our response to triggers plays a role in shaping toxic cultures that set us against one another, justify sniping, and waste everybody’s time. But whether we suffer in silence or indulge the urge to vent, the one thing we almost always do when triggered is try to put what happened in some kind of context. This is where storytelling enters the picture. We craft a narrative based on past experience or perceptions in a way that assigns blame, exonerates us, and magnifies impact. Because these stories make us feel better, we may not stop to question whether they are either accurate or useful. Yet the truth is that our go-to stories rarely serve us well. They are especially damaging when they operate across divides: gender, of course (“Men can’t, women just refuse”), but also race, ethnicity, sexual orientation, and age (“They always, they seem incapable of…”). Because these default stories rely on generalizations and stereotypes, they reinforce any biases we may have. This makes it difficult for us to see others in their particularity; instead, they appear to us as members of a group. In addition, because our go-to stories usually emphasize our own innocence (“I had no idea!” “I never guessed he would…”), they often reinforce our feelings of being aggrieved or victimized—an increasing hazard for men as well as women. Since we can’t control other people, our best path is to acknowledge the emotional and mental impact a trigger has on us. This necessary first step can then enable us to choose a response that enhances our dignity and serves our interests.

FOR MY SPIRITUAL LIFE... What’s the ONE Thing I can do to help others... ? What’s the ONE Thing I can do to improve my relationship with God... ? FOR MY PHYSICAL HEALTH... What’s the ONE Thing I can do to achieve my diet goals... ? What’s the ONE Thing I can do to ensure that I exercise... ? What’s the ONE Thing I can do to relieve my stress... ? FOR MY PERSONAL LIFE... What’s the ONE Thing I can do to improve my skill at ________... ? What’s the ONE Thing I can do to find time for myself... ? FOR MY KEY RELATIONSHIPS... What’s the ONE Thing I can do to improve my relationship with my spouse/partner... ? What’s the ONE Thing I can do to improve my children’s school performance... ? What’s the ONE Thing I can do to show my appreciation to my parents... ? What’s the ONE Thing I can do to make my family stronger... ? FOR MY JOB... What’s the ONE Thing I can do to ensure that I hit my goals... ? What’s the ONE Thing I can do to improve my skills... ? What’s the ONE Thing I can do to help my team succeed... ? What’s the ONE Thing I can do to further my career... ? FOR MY BUSINESS... What’s the ONE Thing I can do to make us more competitive... ? What’s the ONE Thing I can do to make our product the best... ? What’s the ONE Thing I can do to make us more profitable... ? What’s the ONE Thing I can do to improve our customer experience... ? FOR MY FINANCES... What’s the ONE Thing I can do to increase my net worth... ? What’s the ONE Thing I can do to improve my investment cash flow... ? What’s the ONE Thing I can do to eliminate my credit card debt... ? BIG IDEAS So how do you make The ONE Thing part of your daily routine? How do you make it strong enough to get extraordinary results at work and in the other areas of your life? Here’s a starter list drawn from our experience and our work with others. Understand and believe it. The first step is to understand the concept of the ONE Thing, then to believe that it can make a difference in your life. If you don’t understand and believe, you won’t take action. Use it. Ask yourself the Focusing Question. Start each day by asking, “What’s the ONE Thing I can do today for [whatever you want] such that by doing it everything else will be easier or even unnecessary?” When you do this, your direction will become clear. Your work will be more productive and your personal life more rewarding. Make it a habit. When you make asking the Focusing Question a habit, you fully engage its power to get the extraordinary results you want. It’s a difference maker. Research says this will take about 66 days. Whether it takes you a few weeks or a few months, stick with it until it becomes your routine. If you’re not serious about learning the Success Habit, you’re not serious about getting extraordinary results. Leverage reminders. Set up ways to remind yourself to use the Focusing Question. One of the best ways to do this is to put up a sign at work that says, “Until my ONE Thing is done—everything else is a distraction.” We designed the back cover of this book to be a trigger —set it on the corner of your desk so that it’s the first thing you see when you get to work. Use notes, screen savers, and calendar cues to keep making the connection between the Success Habit and the results you seek. Put up reminders like, “The ONE Thing = Extraordinary Results” or “The Success Habit Will Get Me to My Goal.” Recruit support. Research shows that those around you can influence you tremendously. Starting a success support group with some of your work colleagues can help inspire all of you to practice the Success Habit every day. Get your family involved. Share your ONE Thing. Get them on board. Use the Focusing Question around them to show them how the Success Habit can make a difference in their school work, their personal achievements, or any other part of their lives.

Julius waited stone-faced as the other centurions scattered to their centuries, eager to make sure their men were ready for a forced march, none of them wanting to suffer the embarrassment of causing the cohort any delay in their headlong charge to the west. The tribune watched them go for a moment, then turned back to the heavily built centurion with a grim smile. ‘So, Centurion, what, you are wondering, have you done to have your expected position as Uncle Sextus’s deputy usurped by your colleague Clodius?’ Julius shrugged, his heavyset face impassive. ‘The Badger’s a good man, Tribune, more than capable of leading the cohort down a road and deploying them to wipe out a few hundred bandits. I’ll admit I’m curious though. Was it something I’ve done?’ Scaurus smiled, putting a hand on the big man’s shoulder. ‘Yes, Julius, it was something you’ve done. It was every little bit of professionalism you’ve displayed since I took this cohort under my command, every order given and every enemy killed. In the absence of the first spear you’re my best individual officer, and I’ve got a job that needs doing here that I can’t entrust to anyone less than my best centurion. We’re forced to withdraw our force from Tungrorum to deal with this new threat, but there’s enough money being held in the headquarters’ safe room to attract every thief and gang leader in this whole city, what with the pay chests and the proceeds of the grain fraud. I’m leaving you here, Julius, you and your century, and depending on you to make sure that nobody gets their grubby fingers on that money. I want a double-strength guard on the vault, and the rest of your men, whether eating, resting or sleeping, no more than a dozen heartbeats away. You can also keep Centurion Corvus’s wife and the wounded safe from harm while you’re at it, and relieve me of the trouble of carting that jar of naphtha around. As of this moment you’re free to kill anyone and everyone you suspect to be a threat to the emperor’s gold, without hesitation or fear of any repercussion. If we return that gold to the throne we will be congratulated and possibly even rewarded, but if we lose it again, having exposed its original loss and recapture to the throne’s eyes, the outcome will be altogether darker for everyone concerned. Do we understand each other, Centurion?

In a study published in 2005 psychologist Steven A. Safren of Mass General and his colleagues showed that 12 training sessions, focused on adopting organizational strategies, combined with medication, was more effective for ADHD symptoms than medication alone in 31 adults with ADHD. In a followup study published in 2010 Safren found that 12 weeks of training in organizational techniques relieved the burden of ADHD in 79 adult patients more than relaxation therapy of the same duration did. Therapy can also curtail impulsive decision making. In our own clinical practices, we ask clients to pick “critical moments” in which they tend to stray from their intended course. Such a moment might be deciding to play one more video game instead of going to bed on time or hitting snooze on the alarm clock, until a person is so rushed that gym clothes are forgotten and the planned exercise never

She found a mossy hollow between the roots of a tree and, putting on her mackintosh, huddled down in her makeshift bed. She ate one sandwich and saved the others for the night, thinking that she was rather enjoying the progress of this adventure, thus far, and almost looking forward to her night in the open air. The hurry of the fast water rushing over the round pebbly rocks of the river bed was soothing: it made her feel less alone and she felt she had no need for her candle to keep the gathering darkness at bay - in fact she was rather relieved to be away from her colleagues and the instructors at Lyne Manor.

when we refuse to take ourselves so seriously, we relieve the stress standing in the way of serious work, create more meaningful connections with our colleagues, and open our minds to more innovative solutions.

Daniel Radcliffe was paid a cool $250,000 for the first film, which jumped up 100 times to $25 million for the last film.

AT 3:00 P.M. SHARP on August 23, 2012, Colonel Edgar escorted the two men into Mattis’s office on MacDill Air Force Base in Tampa. The sixty-one-year-old general was an intimidating figure in person: muscular and broad shouldered, with dark circles under his eyes that suggested a man who didn’t bother much with sleep. His office was decorated with the mementos of a long military career. Amid the flags, plaques, and coins, Shoemaker’s eyes rested briefly on a set of magnificent swords displayed in a glass cabinet. As they sat down in a wood-paneled conference room off to one side of the office, Mattis cut to the chase: “Guys, I’ve been trying to get this thing deployed for a year now. What’s going on?” Shoemaker had gone over everything again with Gutierrez and felt confident he was on solid ground. He spoke first, giving a brief overview of the issues raised by an in-theater test of the Theranos technology. Gutierrez took over from there and told the general his army colleague was correct in his interpretation of the law: the Theranos device was very much subject to regulation by the FDA. And since the agency hadn’t yet reviewed and approved it for commercial use, it could only be tested on human subjects under strict conditions set by an institutional review board. One of those conditions was that the test subjects give their informed consent—something that was notoriously hard to obtain in a war zone. Mattis was reluctant to give up. He wanted to know if they could suggest a way forward. As he’d put it to Elizabeth in an email a few months earlier, he was convinced her invention would be “a game-changer” for his men. Gutierrez and Shoemaker proposed a solution: a “limited objective experiment” using leftover de-identified blood samples from soldiers. It would obviate the need to obtain informed consent and it was the only type of study that could be put together as quickly as Mattis seemed to want to proceed. They agreed to pursue that course of action. Fifteen minutes after they’d walked in, Shoemaker and Gutierrez shook Mattis’s hand and walked out. Shoemaker was immensely relieved. All in all, Mattis had been gruff but reasonable and a workable compromise had been reached. The limited experiment agreed upon fell short of the more ambitious live field trial Mattis had had in mind. Theranos’s blood tests would not be used to inform the treatment of wounded soldiers. They would only be performed on leftover samples after the fact to see if their results matched the army’s regular testing methods. But it was something. Earlier in his career, Shoemaker had spent five years overseeing the development of diagnostic tests for biological threat agents and he would have given his left arm to get access to anonymized samples from service members in theater. The data generated from such testing could be very useful in supporting applications to the FDA. Yet, over the ensuing months, Theranos inexplicably failed to take advantage of the opportunity it was given. When General Mattis retired from the military in March 2013, the study using leftover de-identified samples hadn’t begun. When Colonel Edgar took on a new assignment as commander of the Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases a few months later, it still hadn’t started. Theranos just couldn’t seem to get its act together. In July 2013, Lieutenant Colonel Shoemaker retired from the army. At his farewell ceremony, his Fort Detrick colleagues presented him with a “certificate of survival” for having the courage to stand up to Mattis in person and emerging from the encounter alive. They also gave him a T-shirt with the question, “What do you do after surviving a briefing with a 4 star?” written on the front. The answer could be found on the back: “Retire and sail off into the sunset.

Several years ago my atheist colleague Quentin Smith unceremoniously crowned Stephen Hawking’s argument against God in A Brief History of Time as “the worst atheistic argument in the history of Western thought.”12 With the advent of The God Delusion the time has come, I think, to relieve Hawking of this weighty crown and to recognize Richard Dawkins’ accession to the throne.13 Third, the New Atheists aren’t willing to own up to atrocities committed in the name of atheism by Stalin, Pol Pot, or Mao Zedong, yet they expect Christians to own up to all barbarous acts performed in Jesus’s name. In one debate, Dennett refused to connect Stalin’s brutality and inhumanity with his hard-core atheism. In fact, he claimed that Stalin was a kind of “religious” figure!

Dear Goodreads diary, Thanks for receiving me all this time with hands wide open… Thanks for being patient to listen to all my gibberish. Still, I gotta go now. I’ll be absent for some time… But I want to tell you one last story… 2 years ago, a little boy came to me and asked for my help. He was desperate and tired of his life. He asked for my friendship and I was reluctant to accept his offer. I’ve always denied his emails or text messages. I know that boys are BASTARDS, though he looked like a little bird, lost and without wings…The way he talks in missing and dreams, oh GOD I wanna forget about all… it disgusts me each time to remember that he didn’t respect that I’m a conservative girl and tried his ways on me even though I’ve always asked him to stop it…. I mean, I’m 5 years older than him…. His father got sick. They reaaaaaaaally needed help. Though I’ve always known he was a “bastard” like everybody else, I couldn’t possibly leave his mom’s calls unanswered when she always asked for my help. I’ve been through all they’ve been through. I couldn’t give up on them while I knew how much it means to stand for someone who’s been tested for his father. I’m an orphan. How could I possibly walk away? + Our dear Prophet (PBUH) would never treat a misdeed with a misdeed…I’m a girl who loves GOD…I wouldn’t be as mean as him… Still, each time he was acting like bastards act. That meanness I can read in his text messages. That DISRESPECT…. I knew he used every possible memory for his ulterior motives. I kept silent for two years…I knew he was making a show… I mean even if he wasn’t making it because he saw something in me (that everybody saw, not only him), he would be making a show for his friends … Still, I’m not the one who would leave a friend in the middle of the dark…at one point in time, I called him brother…. hhh…. Thought maybe if he knows that I’m his older sister, he’ll think that the way he talked or the things he asked are things you only ask from a girlfriend and not me… he persisted…. I tested him once and he like a fool fell into the trap… I knew I should walk away even if I’d hear that his father would die… I spent whole night throwing in my disbelief…. How could people be so tricky…I’m 5 years older…. Eventually, he made his show… Thank GOD, a colleague… a mouthy colleague… started talking about everyone at school including me and him…that was heaven’s door wide open for me. Though 14 years ago, my friends started talking about me and another boy, I wouldn’t leave him for the world because I knew he was a decent boy… This time, I dived in… One month later, he came into my class not caring what my colleagues would talk…That made me sure that he wants to carry his show over… You know diary, what kills a person the most is not death. Hurt can kill…deception can kill…not apologizing can kill… Bad memories can kill…and I didn’t want to leave him with bad memories…I sent my last text message, told him to fulfill all his dreams and said goodbye…. Still I’ve never felt relieved… I texted him again, faced him with the facts, he thought he fooled me again….I said sorry and goodbye… forever…I waited for some time and then I quit my job so they don’t understand a thing about my motives… I spent two amazing months home; that I would always remember because they’ve changed me a lot…They brought me back to life again…But when I came back, all the bad memories came back again… Dear diary, I know you’ve got tired of my complaints, but I have nobody else to talk to the way I talk to you… I need to forget all the bad memories he left me with… I know I CAN, but I need some time away from you…Even though he’s like a “tafcha” in my life now… still, I have to forgive him… I’m not someone who would spend her time hating people…People like me talk in books and ideas in their social networks… Wait for me diary…I’ll be back…

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