A little A lot

I want to share something with you but I’m not sure what it is that I want to share. I feel uncertain all of a sudden. I don’t know how to describe it. I see people but I don’t. I’m smiling and laughing but my heart doesn’t really follow along to the beat of sound. I’m nodding and agreeing but I don’t know if I meant yes or no. I am a maybe and maybe there will be a miracle for me. I pray for the things I don’t believe in. I believe in getting the things I don’t believe I will ever get. I wish I wasn’t so confusing. I wish I could tell what I’m feeling because feeling uncertain is a really uncertain feeling. I’m tired but I can’t sleep. But I should sleep because I’m tired. I’ve lost senses to all things that make sense. Sometimes I wish I could clear my head and reset it. But we all know there is no start overs or do overs. There is only moving forward and pushing on until you’re so far away it almost feels like you’ve started over. I can’t erase the past. I can try to create the future but that takes work. Am I willing to work for it? I want to say yes because that the sensible and most reasonable response but my heart does not follow the same logical reasoning. I know a little can mean a lot but knowing a little doesn’t mean knowing a lot. 

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Condescending 

This is dedicated to a friend of mine:

You’re so much better than me, 

Your grades, your looks, even your sugar daddies. 

You say you were bullied as a kid,

Then surely you understand the term ‘Condescending Judgement’. 

You told me your stories in confidence, 

You asked me to keep them a secret. 

Now I don’t understand how everyone knows, 

When my mouth has always been closed. 

Yes I know you won the genetics lottery,

Just remember that lottery isn’t a sustainable sorcery. 

You have so much experience in every field that concerns life, 

But that does not give you the right to indulge in mine. 

I can’t tell you this because I consider you a friend, 

But when have my friends ever been so condescending? 

I know you obsession with owning property, 

Is that why you’ve turned yourself so improperly? 

I’m a hypocrite for calling you condescending, 

Because my judgements are lesser than that of a friend.

But just because my morals don’t align with yours, 

Doesn’t mean I won’t listen to you at all.

And if I can spare a minute for your bullshit, 

Then why can’t you spare a second for my wit? 

Enjoy your free dish while you can,

Not everyone can rely on a man. 

Congratulations on your successes, 

I hope you won’t slept with more men past ten. 

And please keep boosting about the money you get,

At least I get to keep my weekends. 

You don’t schedule in time for friends,

Because you’re too busy flirting with older men.

So congratulations again on your successes my friend,

I may not be rich but as least I’m happy.

Filthy Rich

I finally understood what this phrase meant: filthy rich. I say so not from experience or a sudden change of luck. I understood from observation, from realisation. Not everything has to be understood by experience. Some things are more clearly explained through the art of observation. The rich become the rich by getting their hands dirty. Hands being a metaphor being everything they are to everything they believe in: their morals, the goals, their dreams, their beliefs, and most importantly, their pride. You’d think the rich pride themselves in being so rich and trust me, they do. I have seen them, I have observed them. But if you dig deeper in their pride, if you look at the source of their riches, you’ll find that they will most likely not be proud of what they have done to accumulate such wealth. No one gets rich by helping others help. That is not to say all rich people are bad. The rich has the ability to help the poor (if they choose to) but you’ll rarely find someone rich whose wealth was founded upon helping those in need. 

So where am I going with this? I once asked a closed relative of mine, “Which job will earn the greatest amount of money?”

Everybody dreams about being rich but we all have different reasons. I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to be rich but the truth is, I only want to be rich so I don’t have to think about money. I want to live comfortable enough that money is never a worry of mine. But if you ask me whether I want to be the richest of the richest, I probably couldn’t care less. 

Others want to be rich for different reasons. Rich brings many associative traits. The most common ones are power, fame, and luxury. 

I guess my reason fits under independence and luxury. Two things I’ve never really had in life. 

But would I damage my morals to reach these goals? That is, would I be willing to get my hands dirty? 

To be completely honest, I’m not quite so sure myself. I see how easy it is to make dirty money and it tempts me. I guess the devil would not have survived so long if it did not know how to tempt. And then I would tell myself that it is not worth ruining the morals I have upheld for so many decades. But being rich, even filthy rich is surely tempting…. 

Bad habits are hard to quit

There are many things I wish I was better at. I can’t say I haven’t tried but I also can’t say I’ve tried very hard. 

As human beings, it is in our nature to resort to the things that are easy and simple. It goes against our nature to exert effort to work for something. And usually that only happens if the rewards outweigh the work efforts. No one works for free. Even volunteers are gaining the experience or the title of selflessness. 

What inspired me to make this post is the process of checking my emails. I found that the most dangerous habit I have become accustomed to is to mark emails I have opened as “unread” to deal with it at a later stage but in this day and age, our inbox are so frequently visited by mail that the old ones are drowned in masses of junk and we tend to forget what’s not there. 

So instead of leaving the decision making for the future, decide upon it now. Because when you do things in the future it is thrown into your past which is why bad habits are hard to quit because good habits are thrown in between the time zones of the future and the past and miss the opportunity to exist in the present. 

So I will leave this post with one final note, “All good things require sacrifice” because you have to sacrifice time in the present to change your way of living. 

Leave me a comment on “What you are willing to sacrifice your present time for?

The path to no where

That’s what it feels like doesn’t it? The future, I mean. A path unknown like a path to no where but every step we take is somewhere and every step into somewhere is a step into the future.

And just like the future, I have no idea where this post is going. I don’t have an excuse or an explanation to describe why I stopped writing for two years (well, almost two years). I guessed I got shy to expose so many of my secrets online (even though it may be anonymous). I don’t know why I started writing again. I thought I stopped because I found happiness. And maybe because this blog contains the scars I could not carry so I couldn’t bring myself to be exposed to it again. 

I don’t know who reads these posts and I don’t know why but I’m going to keep writing anyway because that’s what I feel like doing in the present. I’m too tired to remember the burden of the past and I’m too nervous to focus on the mysteries of the future so I’ll just appreciate what is happening now. 

And right now, my family is playing a card game while I’m sitting in the dining room writing. I should probably join them onto the path to no where. 

A Chain of Events

An estranged whimper escapes my tongue,
A street of strangers stares me down,
Some politely offer help,
I reject and deny again.
I appreciate your kindness but it could not accommodate me.
I run towards the only peace I know,
The bells sing an hour has gone.
I race up to the helping hands,
Only to be chased away by ants.
Next came the statue of peace,
Where dead soldier lies with liberty.
I can only think back to the time,
Where my friend and I sat discussing life.
Now I am here all alone,
Discussing life on my own.
An old man walks by twice,
Maybe the third time he would ask me why?
It turns my weak bladder control,
Sent me sprinting for toilet rolls.
A half hour left until it close,
A half hour for somewhere to go.

When seven came,
I went back home.
Scared and frightened,
More than before.

When nine came,
I walk in the dark,
An hour long,
All sixty minutes of luck.

When midnight came,
I wrote this down.
Hoping someday possibly one day,
I will never have to count.