Friday, November 28, 2008
All the small things
Funny thing how a passed pencil can brighten up someone's day. Or a helping hand, a smile, even a glance in their direction. How strange is it that such little things, that to someone else would mean nothing more than politeness, could be the one thing that makes that day worth going through? How ironic is it that only certain others have the effect on them?
It's surprising how small matters can move big things.
Whenever I'm feeling empty and slightly lonely, all i need is a friend, a pack of cigarettes, and 3bucks for 2 teh o ais at the mamak. To some, this may be a normal boring hangout. But to me, it's everything.
For most people, they know what it feels like, but it's just a little feeling, insignificant compared to all the other feelings and emotions running through them. But for a few, this feeling is their existence, their reason for being.
When that feeling is gone, those people who lived only for that feeling, those looks and laughs; what do they live for once it's gone? What would they have lived for, had it never been there in the first place? The answer is all around us, in the people we live with, and the strangers we pass on the street. Everyone has had that special person in their lives, and a lot have had that special person taken from them.
We each have stories, and only time can limit how they are told, and how many are heard. Our stories are spread about the world. Most who read our stories read them for what they seem to be. A story. A tale written to entertain the human mind and create alternate scenarios from the ones we live in. But a few, very few of them, understand. A few share this same feeling. And within the little time it took for them to read our story, they realize that they're one of us.
Who are we exactly? We don't know, no one does and honesty, I don't think anyone ever will to the fullest extent. All that we know is that we are who we are because of this one trait that ties us all together. Without it, we would be just like the rest. And so the question arises:
Are you one of us, or one of the rest?
It's surprising how small matters can move big things.
Whenever I'm feeling empty and slightly lonely, all i need is a friend, a pack of cigarettes, and 3bucks for 2 teh o ais at the mamak. To some, this may be a normal boring hangout. But to me, it's everything.
For most people, they know what it feels like, but it's just a little feeling, insignificant compared to all the other feelings and emotions running through them. But for a few, this feeling is their existence, their reason for being.
When that feeling is gone, those people who lived only for that feeling, those looks and laughs; what do they live for once it's gone? What would they have lived for, had it never been there in the first place? The answer is all around us, in the people we live with, and the strangers we pass on the street. Everyone has had that special person in their lives, and a lot have had that special person taken from them.
We each have stories, and only time can limit how they are told, and how many are heard. Our stories are spread about the world. Most who read our stories read them for what they seem to be. A story. A tale written to entertain the human mind and create alternate scenarios from the ones we live in. But a few, very few of them, understand. A few share this same feeling. And within the little time it took for them to read our story, they realize that they're one of us.
Who are we exactly? We don't know, no one does and honesty, I don't think anyone ever will to the fullest extent. All that we know is that we are who we are because of this one trait that ties us all together. Without it, we would be just like the rest. And so the question arises:
Are you one of us, or one of the rest?
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