Rubbish Dump:

When I start working, I do not want to become the kind advising college kids, fresh graduates, the likes, to enjoy what little time they have left before jumping into the rat race that is adult life and saying once you start working life, you don't get anymore free time like you used to.

And not to be the one pouring water onto their burning splinters that is their youth/freedom/carefreeness.

And not be the one smirking at their naivety thinking thoughts such as "they don't know squat about what's to come".

Because all those are just mean.

(Yet realistic.)

If life takes but one road, where's the excitement coming from?
No, no, let me rephrase. There is nothing left to look forward to.

The rose bloomed. It was a picture almost too perfect. Deep red petals arranged with meticulous care reminding all of God's existence. The soulful flower. Noone could take their eyes off it. Frail. Afraid that once they looked away, the petals would ungroup and break apart, falling in the wind only to be swept away. Unwanted in a nearby drain. A beautiful creature. But that is what they chose to see on the outside. A story almost too perfect. Perhaps the strings that bonded them together will one day wither and vanish. Perhaps that one day is but not too far off. The bonds, tied and tied over and over again after countless unravellings. The world is such a big place. Yet there is no happy fairytale ending for these two. A quarrel everyday was an added ingredient when God stirred the soup of their rship. An ingredient that guaranteed the broth would spoil before it was even served with a dash of shallots and spring onions and eaten with a slice of crisp freshly baked bread. A soup sour yet sweet at the same time. An acquired taste no doubt. One they both have to have too often much to their dislike if they ever want to be comfortable living with it, drinking it everyday, no matter that it makes both of them sick until they vomit and sicken themselves everytime. One day they will both realise that it is not worth the pain. That the soup is best just thrown away. That they should just look away and let the petals fall off. That they should just untie the strings they held on to so much. The world is such a big place that they will find others. No picture is perfect but there are ones still nice to look at before you turn away and move on.

Why do humans love so powerfully?

"And the only way into the sun is walking
But you'd rather run
You'd rather run away"

The calm bliss I had is now gone.

(*deep breath)
WWWHHHYYYYYYYYYYYYY????!!!!!!!







Like pressing the reset button