I wish I can remember all those random thoughts I have and record them here. It should be fairly interesting. Just too bad that I haven't been that good at remembering these things these days. I forget them before I can get a chance to write. And I hardly feel like writing these days.

I'm just blabbering here because I'm half asleep but I don't want to go to bed yet. I need to go to bed feeling lighter, less burdened. I am dreading this conversation I will have tomorrow because I know I am going to make someone all worked up and angry and desperate again. Not that I can help it. It's an unwritten part of my job description.

I hate making people miserable. I wonder how many people have committed suicide after reading the letters I sent them. I remember the few who cried and begged over the phone. And those who threatened to kill themselves.

What do we find ourselves doing? We deal with these people using textbook answers. We apologise profusely. We have no real answers on how to solve their problems. Over time, compassion runs thin, we become increasingly annoyed and then, we just become numb and tired. Occasionally there's still this sense of panic and dread when someone warns that the person is super nasty.

I used to think I could make a difference.