blankwithoutyou

0414. to each his own, they say, and i wonder if the last missing word from that phrase is "fight".

on a simple train ride, i can see on the faces of the tired, finally-end-of-the-work-week friday look on most of my fellow passengers.

there were a couple of overworked technicians in greasy jumpsuits. a flustered mother and a wailing child. a few office ladies, nodding off to sleep with either music plugged into their already shut off ears or a magazine propped nicely in front of them as if they were actually squinting at it from that distance.

there were students, some in dirty shoes and PE attire, some lugging heavy school bags filled with books. a handful of suit and tie whores of the corporate ladder in their spiffy cuff links and leather bags, run of the mill raffles place drones, appeared used. those who've made it up there already has no need for the train anymore you see.

there were elderlies, the usual jadedness hung around them seemed especially strong today. girls as roadshow promoters, retail shop sales assistants, restaurant waitresses, starbucks barristers and the likes who are finally glad the day is over. fight a better fight tomorrow.

everyday is a gift. it's true. but it aint a gift we're getting for free. the things we do chase the upkeep for our lives... to each his own fight.

but really, i couldnt care less.

cos in me there's my own fight. and it's apparent that im losing.