Almost 5am in the morning and craving for a stick. Rather depressed recently. Once again, life is on a standstill.
The world whirls around me, kicks up the leaves, ruffles the papers someone is holding, a lady smoothes down her skirt, the mothers with prams hurry indoors, the frisky boys chase each other in the wind. In the midst of chaos only one is still. It could only be me. Every step forward, every change of direction, i step into my own footsteps once again. Look around, everything's changed. But i'm still here. I scream it out loud, but it seems only i could hear it in my head. Wait for me, i lament but no one hears.
How can it be that every step forward seems to be a step right back to where i was?
It doesn't matter that i had a head start.
It doesn't matter how much hard work i've put in.
It doesn't matter what i do.
I'm started out first in the race but now i'm the last man in line waiting to be picked for the game. Sometimes, a little luck wouldn't hurt. And seriously, that little luck could mean a world of difference. So i figured.
Hell, let's start with change. And there goes my hair first. Superstition or not, losing some baggage could help me find a way out of this cycle of quarter-life crisis. Right?
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