You know what’s appalling? The fact that I wake up at six o’clock in the morning five days a week just to make pieces of papers also known to people as money. I wake up and drag myself to the bathroom, bathe, put clothes on, occasionally put some products on my face, eat breakfast, kiss my cats goodbye, take the train, get off the train, wait for the sodding bus, get on the sodding bus, get off the sodding bus after a half-hour bus ride, grace everyone in the office with my presence, start work, anticipate lunch hour, have lunch, resume work, anticipate getting off work, get off work, wait for the sodding bus again, get on the sodding bus, get off the sodding bus, take the train home, get home, have some nonsensical conversations with my cats, eat dinner, read, contemplate life, coming to terms with the fact that being enslaved by the said pieces of papers is the only definite thing in my life, and finally sleep. All the hard work and all the hours spent in a day everyday every week for pieces of papers.
Maybe I am not meant to wind up with anyone. Betrothed only to the fictional characters from the books that have perpetually filled the void in me. Forever longing for the presence of another being who will never ever be. Forced to be complacent with only the pleasures of good reads.
Whenever I’d lost something then, I used to tell myself to go back to the days before I even had it and pretend like I never had it. How I was completely fine without it, before I got it. I never realized how wrong I was to have reacted in that manner until I lost the single most important piece of my life, my Best Friend. I can never go back to the three years before I found him and pretend that I never had him. My life up until three years ago meant nothing. Rocky was the one who put it into perspective. But three years, way too short of a life for a nine-live being. How could you have used up all your nine lives in just three years? I’m in no stage of grief. I’m just grieving. I don’t know how to go about my life anymore. I weep at the sight of every corner of the house. Your favorite spots in particular. I miss you so much my heart hurts, Best Friend.
Money, the root cause of your problems.
Money, the solution to your problems.
Money, the root cause of your illnesses.
Money, the medicine that treats your illnesses.
Money, the death of your hopes and dreams.
Money, the death of humanity and empathy.
Money, the death of you.
If there’s one thing people need to stop doing, it’s half-assing everything. From eating, shitting, working, studying to building bridges, burning bridges, professing love, making love and whatnot. Do them wholeheartedly. Don’t be that jackass who half-asses every goddamn thing.
I was in the bus en route to work when I passed by a school. I saw these kids in their sports attires prolly having their PE lesson. It reminded me of my schooling days, how I’d spent most of my PE lessons with my friends looking at the cars filling the main road, pondering upon how it would be like to be on the other side of the fence, working through the traffic to get to work. How it must be like to be adults. To be in control of your life. To be making your own decisions. To give reassurances to your ‘rents, sibs. Every now and then I’d wish to be on the school side of the fence, to not know, to not have to decide everything on my own, to be reassured by my ‘rents. To be a kid again.
Ever looked at the things you own and thought about the day you got ‘em? The first time you came across ‘em and how they made you feel. It’s the same with people. Ever looked at or thought about someone and then be reminded of your first encounter with ‘em? And wished you could relive that day once again? Just so you could feel all the things you were feeling at that point in time.