It’s funny how sometimes inspirations just come rushing into your blood then pushing each other up against your brain while your fingers could not stop twitching; Just as cliche as it seems, it comes to a good part that it tickles you how good it feels, the song ends leaving you with a vague repeat of the chorus. And then BAM! A better song hits your next shuffle list and there it goes, you write on.
It’s part of the rule in life, you take this roller-coaster ride. You go up, then down, spin a little while screaming on the top of your lungs, then it’s any way how the Man up there designs it to be. Although, some like it to be called a see-saw where you know what’s next but how could you sleep in peace when someone else is in misery for your entertainment? Could life be as simple as a group of happy people gathered in the arms of God, singing the Gospel Songs and just laugh, and laugh, and laugh all day?
Ironically, Satan doesn’t work this way, nor how any other humans do. I’d like to put it this way, we are all walking in the new Michel Perry’s killer hills, you look good, you’re happy that you look good and you keep on moving for the show. When you walk fast, you meet new people. Your life changes. Then, your heel starts bleeding while you struggle, you break your heel and slow down. It’s hard to catch up, but you didn’t bother, you just waited for the slower ones to be where you are. Though, they seem to exceed you easily, while everyone’s wearing the same pair, who would bother trading goodness for pain?
You walk, you drag yourself, you cry...
And BAM! The see-saw falls on the other side and you rise! You find yourself in front of Vans. You buy the best looking pair because you’re just like that, but it still hurts your wound. You jog in a certain speed comfortably, it’s hard because not everyone your age wears sneakers, until you truly find a group, which you will be spending the part of your run with.
That’s life, maybe?
Maybe along the road as you run with the gang you enjoy, you just pinch yourself at the thought that you could have thrown the broken heel at someone you hate. Maybe as you joke around, gagging, you see some people from the past who refused to lend a helping hand walking alone in tears and a broken iPod which obviously was stepped hard. Maybe as you grow old and have to use a walking stick after those thousand of falls, thankfully with a gigantic balloon-tube-like pair of arms to stretch and save you, your brain sings ‘maybe...maybe...maybe...’.
All the coulda, shoulda, woulda of the memories, so many to regret, so many to change that was once before, so many of the kiss goodbyes, so many of those that you could not even recall.
From the heels that you once wore, how many people did you use those pair of heels to step one? With the nicely worn sneakers, did you kick the asses just because you could do so without any fight back? How many times have your walking stick saved your life from nasty people racing to push?
How many times did you bother fighting back?
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