"I worry you don't get enough sleep." "Don't worry about me. I don't even worry about me."

I don't. I don't worry about group break downs in the office, when we start howling and break out the beer, when we start kicking trash cans and cabinets, when the black cat tries to commit suicide by the window ledge, when fruits are tossed on the walls, there's always someone (Qingrui) who'll patiently clean up the mess and make us feel sane. I don't mean to make work sound like an asylum. What I'm describing are only two separate occurrences on two separate days with two separate people.

I don't worry about me because even on five hours of sleep I know I'll drag my ass up to rehearse a presentation to hell. I don't worry about me because I'm wired to be good, be responsible, be smart, be that girl.

"I know I'll be okay."

I know I'll be okay to that point that I actively create chaos in my life, like falling down the stairs and cutting open my right knee, or riding my bike wicked fast through Beijing traffic and banging my left knee. One day all that'll be left is a giant bruise, purple and green, and I'll still be ok. You can't really change who you are, even if you work more, drink more, date more, play more.

I think I'm ok with being ok, too. I'm good with happy, thanks. No more of this nonsense, let's be adults, pay the rent, earn hard cash, brave a little.