A Patch Of Grass

WARNING: I apologize in advance. This is actually really boring! 

I was walking home today when I came upon a giant pile of ants. As I blindly climbed over them, I began to wonder how tragic it is to be an ant. I don’t know how they recognize one another but to the human naked eye, they’re all the same, pest, insects we’ve never been fond off. Little black annoying creepy crawling bugs. The life of an ant must not be very fun. Then I looked at the patch of grass on the sidewalk and I realized something:

The world is the soil on which the grass (a metaphor for us, humans) are rooted on. There are short strands and long strands, withered strands and fresh green ones. Then there are tiny dry yellowed dead patches sprinkled amongst the living. And each strand of grass is unaware of their neighbors. It’s sad really because life is kind of similar in a way. We don’t notice the difference in each individual, we only see whats bright and eye-catching, the wild flowers, or the bad prickly weed. We are only attracted to the good or the bad, the rest is ignored.

Sorry, I can be really boring. Who talks about grass? Well, seems like I do. I’ve been on a break for a while now. I’m really busy doing nothing right now or in other words: I’m too lazy and unmotivated to do anything productive so I apologize for the lack of posts. I also have a huge problem of commitment. I should put a warning sign up. Yeah, I might do that.

Ok then, goodnight (in my time zone). 

 

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