Days

As usual, it’s been a while. Reading Orwell’s Burmese Days has been a joy, and tomorrow, I’ll head to a little school to meet a few Burmese children, who I haven’t meet in a while. I miss typing my thoughts down, tracing words on paper as if I was born with a pen in my mouth. There are so many thoughts, so many emotions running up and down that when the clowned head falls onto the bed after midnight, all that strings through is “I cannot sleep”.

Sometimes you’re tired of the same old, same old. Sometimes you miss the good times. All I know is that, there are beautiful, more beautiful things to come in life.

This time around, it’s to deal with games that people play. They can be unfair when you’re being honest, and brutally honest only when it’s too late. But then again, time is a concept, a creation and to an extend, this will go on and on. At the end of the day, it’s always wise to forgive, always wise to wake up in the morning, and to know that, you have a choice to be kind to yourself today.

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