May you find peace while rowing these oceans in that small boat.

Don’t you ever wish they stopped looking at you? They should at least dim the lights. Provide cocktails. Make it more manageable for you. Profitable even.

To some of us, death sounds like a sweet relief when we just about had it. A remedy we’ve been trying to source from our doctors without success. We are the desperate ones going after dewdrops.

At last after a long day of harvesting, despite everyday shortcomings, we raise our glass in unison and cheer to keep on living and being a flawed individual. For we are doomed to carry that fate until death, whether such ending is brought about by ourselves or a deed done unto us.

I am very much not satisfied, are you? Is this enough for you? Is what you see acceptable to your soul’s eye? Is more not wanted? And most importantly, what are you going to do about it?

You will become contemptuous if you haven’t already. You will descend into the madness of the masses. You will become a townsperson tyrant. You will succumb into the mysery of low expectations. Aren’t you uncomfortable already? Be angry. Rebel.