but im no slacker. you cant fault me for not trying. my definition of a slacker is someone who thinks all jobs suck and isnt going to lift a finger. i would happily work sixteen-hours days if only i knew what it is i should be doing. i am what they call, all-too-desperate, to find my song in life. im not like the others my age out there who should be enjoying life and i panicked some time ago when i realised there isnt one (song) out there for me. no, i didnt expect it to be easy. but i sure wanted an answer.

but that was the max long ago. the max now just seems so aimless. i enjoy such a life. sure, but i need a direction in life. i really do. before i fade off into the background and become a nobody.

tongues swagger faster than you can take a splendid photo. you look at the evergrey sky and wonder just how much association is there with life and all your surroundings. you tried so hard to focus on all the small little details with the wayward wind gently brushing against your skin. your blood streams thru the very vein of yours and your heart thumping continously.

you feel faint.
you feel weak.
you feel as though youre dying.


then you know for sure, our lives are already coming to an end.

the last stroke left us all dazzled.

its like a first attempt at something youre not even sure of. its like stepping into a whole new zone. some call it crossing boundaries. some call it a new experience. whereas others love to term it as just an excuse from escaping from reality.

now its your turn to tell me how scary it feels to be me. and here i am killing all my brain cells, just trying to be a better man - for one, for all.

for six.

As much as ive always wanted to pen my feelings down at those very exact moments, my thoughts are no less than the chairs and tables left in disarray. nevermind us being outspoken by international peers. nevermind that no-smell durians are being grown. and nevermind that maids are getting only 250 calories of food a day only.

but how possibly can a classic extrovert tango with a dedicated homebody? its like tigers going vegetarian. ludicrously moronic. then it hit me that i once scribbled something about chalk and cheese and its non-existant connection. sure, there's over a million and one things going on at this point of time. but certain memories are still etched close to your heart and mind - as much as you dont want them to.

pleasant, unpleasant. memorable. unmemorable. gone. wasted. maybe that knock on my leg was a good wake up call, minus the scar of course. how else am i going parading in such a condition now? jeans maybe. and i certainly do miss all my homies.