It just dawned on me that when I handed in my laptop on my very last day at work, along with it went all the brilliant stories that I had collected and recounted. My girlfriends and I would have endless sessions discussing love, life, politics, pursuits, family dramz and the like. Cleverly encapsulated in rapid-fire emails at blocks during the workday. But it was the (relatively) tumultuous not-so-distant past that accumulated the inordinate amount of tales. Quite often, I would get reminder emails eagerly anticipating the next instalment and urging me to update on developments. At times the response was supportive; other times, I would be ragged upon and scorned for my innate abilities to 'take shit'. Come to think of it, quite often I would share these stories more than willingly just to make sure I had not somehow gone off the deep end. A validation of sorts.

All the drama in the past year. The CBB saga, especially. Erased.

I wonder if I'm better off for it.