(Meekly, weakly)I'm already giving so much. What do you want from me?

'Your soul, no less.'

just salt in my eye

Funny how the most insightful thoughts occur at the least opportune times, only to be forgotten later at the keyboard.

While playing street soccer the other day/week/month (it was some time ago can't remember exactly when), it hit me.

We know that most of the crap they teach us would probably never become of use when we are all grown up and stuff, and they instead should be teaching more useful knowledge like common sense.

But they do it anyway, and pile on so much work so that we're kept on our toes and don't question their shadowy evil motives. So instead we should-

I forgot what I was just about to say. To be continued.

What is it about the undeserving people? They must possess some aura, some mysterious weapon that endears the beautiful blind toward them. Yet the gentle ones who would do anything for others lack it. It's not that these gentle people are oblivious to stark reality, but that they hold on too tightly to some faint glimmer of hope. Hope that this one time there will be an exception to the bleak futility of the truth.

You could be driving a car, or at least riding in one. It's going at over a hundered, and as you look out, the vibrant bougainvilleas and frangipanis and the dull battleship greys and feces browns of the (school) buildings (101 Dover, more specifically) all blend into a wild cacophany of colours. Suddenly a dog crosses the road. Cars skid and horns blare. As you crane your neck you see the dumb animal, oblivious to it's impending doom. It's at that split second where you take in every single detail of the morbid picture painted in your eyes. You see the drool hanging from it's mouth, you see the panicked expression on the drivers' faces, you see pedastrians standing stock-still as they too prepare themselves for the grisly scene to come. You even have time to let out a mental sigh. Then time returns to normal and it happens. Wince.

Or you could be playing hockey for your school. Your'e on your own and you can't rely on anyone but yourself. All of a sudden your'e aware of everything. You see the bad guy goalkeeper shifting around his posts, you more feel than see the opponent racing up behind you. Without thinking, acting purely on instinct, you let loose a shot you wouldn't have been able to do normally and you even manage to catch a glimpse of the keeper's eyes widen in horror. You even have time to break into a mental smile. Then time returns to normal and it happens. Joy.

Or you could be playing some game on the computer. Say Counterstrike. It's you, one puny Arab terrorist against a squad of the most highly-trained soldiers in the world. You know you don't stand a chance. You skulk around the shadows, half-expecting to be killed the moment you step into the open, which unfortunately is exactly where you have to go. As you tread into the blinding light, you notice a movement in the corner of the screen. Instantly your finger jerks, and the poor sod who you saw is dead. It's a small consolation, there are still 3 to go, and 1 of you. Suddenly the dreaded 3 burst in at the same time. Without thinking, reacting purely with reflexes, you click 3 times so fast and so accurately you would not think it was you if you watched a replay. The last one is dead before the first hits the ground.

Best yet, you could be at a party with friends. Your'e the centre of attention, but not because your'e the most drunk or the loudest. In fact, your'e not even saying much. Rather your'e coming up with witticisms by the truckload, injecting one-liners of pure genius into the conversation every few moments. Inwardly you realise that 99% of the time, you wouldn't have thought of them. But now your'e conscious of it, you lose it.

It always lasts a moment. It's always fleeting. You yearn for it but have no idea how to achieve it. Sometimes you even dream about it. Hahaha I can't even put the way it feels into words but rather I just refer to it as it. Maybe it should have a name.

'Still looking-glass pool under light of autumn moon, after pebble has fallen into it'

Weather Forecast for the Next 100 Years

If not for that last minute, bless it, I predict nothing would be done in my lifetime.

You're taking steps, that make you feel dizzy; Then you like the way it feels.

I couldn't eat today. No appetite.

Haven't said that phrase and meant it in years, probably.

I'd just sit there and stare at the food. After a while they'd I'd talk to them. In the emotionless fluorescent light I realise how grossly yellow the macaroni is, how shiny and glistening, plasticky, the cheese is, how flesh-coloured the chicken is, how its texture is like that of soggy sand.

Mr. Macaroni, your'e probably so fucking GMmed that if I left you on that plate for another hour, it'd get cancer.
Mr. Cheese, you ain't made of milk that's for sure. I'm placing my bets on formaldehyde and spit.
Mr. Chicken, ah, the bringer of protein, big strong muscles and whatnot. If you didn't come from some creature that moved more than 3 metres in it's whole life maybe. But now your'e nothing but sawdust, ash and fat. Not the gleaming marbly fat, but the pale and putrid stuff you get when you mix old old milk with old old lemon juice.

'But it isn't our fault, Mr. Amil, we didn't choose to be cloned and false and born in a lab. Why are you being so mean to us today? Most days you just chug us down like we're truffles and kobe.'

'Sorry guys, I'm just a little stressed. Not much though, they say I'm stronger than that, they say they can pile more on me and I'll just cope perfectly. You see? I only have this truckload of books to carry and work to do. I've even started using my school bag as a weight to work out, but it's a bit heavy for me. I'm sure my back can handle the weight, I've only had 2 slipdisks and a strained lumbar in the past week. See these bags under my eyes? They're not pitch black yet, so that means I'm not working at 100%.'

'So I guess I'll just stop whining and eat you. Maybe I'll get cancer from all the extra crap in you. You know my grandmother has cancer? That means I'm predisposed. I might die a little earlier, but what's the diff as long as I do my work for those who want me to work for them. As long as I give them a good name as long as I'm useful, no loss eh? Look! I'm not even getting paid. Rather I'm paying them! Life's good!'

Reverse L'esprit L'escalier

Oftimes I feel that I have so much to say.

When the opportunity to speak out arises, the words fly freely from my mouth like pigs in thick mud.