I woke up today to the warm Straits of Malacca breeze. It has been a while since I've slept so peacefully, no matter how short the sleep. Something though, kept me from the feelings of Hensel and Gretel when they first saw the witch's house of sweets. I remembered a time when Port Dickson meant so much more to me than just a popular retreat. That seems to be the problem with memories; the feelings never last more than that moment it happened.
I walked to the balcony, half dazed from one too many party drinks, and soon found myself staring into the horizon (there wasn't much of a horizon, since the fucking haze is back). For such a beautiful morning, I kept wondering to myself as to why I couldn't muster that smile of satisfaction to welcome it.
It occurs to me, that in the grinding toilings of life, no one manages to muster smiles in the mornings. Every single day, I sit patiently waiting for my bus, crossing paths with the same people, at the same time, caught in the same routine. Everyone goes about in automatic synchronization, in controlled chaos, all being poor slaves of the system. Parents, school going children, office workers, busy bees, white collared, blue collared, Malaysian, Bangla, Indon, expat, all with the same expressions of emptiness.
Makes me wonder how many of us truly thank the heavens for that extra day in life we have. Makes me wonder how many of us truly want to live that extra day. Makes me wonder what I can do differently tomorrow. I don't want to be a slave. Maybe if I smiled more I'd be ok. Hopefully no one would send me to the loony bin.
Lately, I've come to believe that if you have a fucked up morning; you have a fucked up day. You can overcome this by bypassing the mornings altogether by waking up in the afternoons (or not waking up at all, ever), or you can best make sure, to the surest of sures, that you'd have a great morning. Hence, todays resolution is to wake up a happier person tomorrow. To thank Big Joe for giving me that extra day. To finally sit at the bus stop, and not sigh at what has become of me, the want-away slave of life. One day I shall be master.
I walked to the balcony, half dazed from one too many party drinks, and soon found myself staring into the horizon (there wasn't much of a horizon, since the fucking haze is back). For such a beautiful morning, I kept wondering to myself as to why I couldn't muster that smile of satisfaction to welcome it.
It occurs to me, that in the grinding toilings of life, no one manages to muster smiles in the mornings. Every single day, I sit patiently waiting for my bus, crossing paths with the same people, at the same time, caught in the same routine. Everyone goes about in automatic synchronization, in controlled chaos, all being poor slaves of the system. Parents, school going children, office workers, busy bees, white collared, blue collared, Malaysian, Bangla, Indon, expat, all with the same expressions of emptiness.
Makes me wonder how many of us truly thank the heavens for that extra day in life we have. Makes me wonder how many of us truly want to live that extra day. Makes me wonder what I can do differently tomorrow. I don't want to be a slave. Maybe if I smiled more I'd be ok. Hopefully no one would send me to the loony bin.
Lately, I've come to believe that if you have a fucked up morning; you have a fucked up day. You can overcome this by bypassing the mornings altogether by waking up in the afternoons (or not waking up at all, ever), or you can best make sure, to the surest of sures, that you'd have a great morning. Hence, todays resolution is to wake up a happier person tomorrow. To thank Big Joe for giving me that extra day. To finally sit at the bus stop, and not sigh at what has become of me, the want-away slave of life. One day I shall be master.
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