Tuesday, May 30, 2017

Out of Sight, Out of Mind

Almost 27 years. I think that's old enough to say that play time is over. 

As a kid, my parents always told me not to pick fights with others. As I grew up, I always thought "Why not?" Especially when you're on the right side of the fence. Trying to make a man out of my own lauds, picking a fight seemed to be a good idea.

Fast forward to year 27, everything seems like a fight-in-the-making. Jokes, exchanges, drinking binges, for Christ's sake -- even driving. Friends can sometimes feel like strangers you'd definitely scoff at on your way to work, and family becomes overbearing at times. Always looking for a fault so I can spew some nasty things at them. Not a good sign. Sometimes, I just want to bury memories and blur faces. But then again, I may just be overthinking.

Again, in a drunk stupor, I ask a buddy of mine what he thinks of this story I told him. I got pissed at him for telling me off, that I was too busy investing time on shit that didn't matter. I shouted in response -- "Well, it matters to me!" Only after waking up the next day with a bad hangover and an even worse buzz brought about by a sudden realization that I came to a conclusion that I do think too much of things that don't really matter. So fuck it, fuck that, fuck you, fuck everything. Less shit for me to take on. Less fake people to rub elbows with, less distractions on my part. And at year 27, that sounds like a good plan.

I need to see less, feel less, worry less to experience more. Some things are just not worth your attention. So instead of goodbye, I say good riddance. It was fun while the booze was in and the food was hot.


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