change...

we often vision ourselves as doing the right thing, from the words we sputter from our sensual lips to the way raise our hands to greet someone. but no matter how right or perfect we think we are, there's always a 0.00000234% or was being wrong. but we must also accept the fact that others aren't perfect too. some say that the pen is mightier than the sword, others consider the tongue to be the most lethal weapon but it doesn't matter how harsh the words are, words are just words. they don't chop off your arm or send you flying 1000 feet off the ground. so just let the words slide by and always think kindly of others. the benefit of the doubt is hugely underrated nowadays. when a stranger helps us with something the first thing that goes through our minds is.. 'what's he up to?' or 'i don't any change' but truth he just pitied us carrying those heavy plastics bags from SOGO.. we tend to think about what others are doing and than start to condemn and condiscend. lets just think more about what we do and not judge what others are doing. my emotions are what you could call stable right now and being told that i REACT too much didn't make my day, but i gotta be strong and not let others get to me, like i said, nobody's perfect, especially me. so let me bow my head in shame and ask for forgiveness from everybody i hurt.WITH or WITHOUT intensions. lets keep it real people.. xD

the kid

Dejected, full of disgust and hatred john walks down the windy path connecting the old tavern that was once a pharmacy and his old man's place situated on a stout hill just past the red mail box. The air was freezing and a black cat kept following him, gently grazing its head on john's right ankle every once in while, purring softy. He didn't take notice of the feline, he was too dazed, too numb from the catastrophe hitting him like a tonne of bricks screaming down from a 20 story building. His life has changed. Upon arriving at his destination he lazily open's the squeaky gate he promised his mom to fix since last December. Swiftly entering the old cottage that he called home, tip toeing on the asymmetric floorboards as to not wake the dozing inhabitants, his plan failed, he could see the blurry silhouette of his big boned mother slowly wavering too and fro from her sleepiness, "are you alright honey?"she asked. John just nodded and headed straight to his room. After slowly shutting the door after himself, John just stood there, staring into nothingness, with a glimpse of hope that he might see a light, showering him in happiness, but his attempts were vein. Tears came gushing out of his clear blue eyes, he couldn't stop them even if he wanted to. He fell on his back and gazed at the ceiling with his phone closely wrapped round his strong fingers with a text message clear as day wrote 'its over,John, i'm going 2 the US tomorrow n i cnt stand a long distance relationship, gd bye tc ily'. John just lay there still as a brainless scarecrow till he felt a burning sensation in his left eye, it was morning and the sun had pierced through his curtains like a dagger to he heart. He looked at his phone again, hoping that last night was just a dream, it wasn't. He heard a knock on the door, it was his little sister calling him down for breakfast. He said he didn't want any and jumped on his bed, wrapped himself with the comforter he had since the last decade and fell into a deep sleep. He woke up a couple of times after hearing his mother's worried voice knocking on the door, accompanied by his father soothing words, telling her that their son was alright and will come to them when he's ready. John wanted so much to go and hug his plump mother, but his heartache was too strong, so all he did was cry himself back to sleep. When he realized that he was awake and looked at the grandfather clock his uncle gave him for christmas, God knows why, it was already 11.30 and the sky was pitch black. He suddenly got up and thought "i'm gonna see her,i'm not going to let this go". Putting on his leather jacket and shirt his mom gave him on his birthday tiptoed once more down those stairs and snatched his dad's car keys from the key rack and quietly made his way to the car. Then he thought, while starting the car, won't it wake his parents up? So he went back and swapped the keys for his dad's old motorcycle. It wasn't the hottest steel on wheels you'd ever seen but at least he could push it to the old tavern and start it up there. John started the engine and waited for it to heat up, lighting up his cigarette he hopped on and made his way to his destination, which would take him about 2 hours by train. John had already googled the route and saved it in his phone. Stopping at a gas station he filled his motorcycle and was on the road. He shivered every few minutes from the extreme cold but kept the pace. He flew passed trucks and lorries but was no match for the BMW's and Mercedes, he kept on going for an hour he got tired and stopped at a resting spot under a flyover, just passed the Southampton exit, the area was clean but not illuminated enough for John to see where he was going and tripped on a rock, cursing the promising lump of molten lava, John took out his packet of cigarettes, and when he was about to light one up, he felt like he had to look up, for no reason what so ever he just lifted his sight and witnessed an object, flying from a moving car. It landed right beside him with a big thud, John looked at it, bewildered, it was like a 1.5L bottle of Dr Pepper wrapped round tonnes of newspaper. It moved "that freaking thing just moved", John thought. He steadied himself and picked the newspaper wrapped soda bottle-like thing and opened it up, it was a baby,"a freaking baby!"John thought, its left hand had a large scratch right above it's wrist and had blood running down between its eyebrows, crying, screaming from the top of its voice, "your gonna be alrite lil one" John softly whispered while taking off his jacket amd wrapping the poor baby up. He than took off his shirt off, leaving him with just his singlet as a heat barrier, tore of the left sleeve of his Armani shirt and made a tourniquet out of it, he then gently but firmly wraps it above the little infants torn skin softly repeating "its gonna be alrite, don't be scared, uncle John's with you" ..(to be continued)