I wake up in the morning
Put on my face
The one that’s gonna get me
Through another day
Doesn’t really matter
How I feel inside
This life is like a game sometimes
Life, what is it really?
Ask the poor, and to them Life may be having clothes on their back, three warm meals a day. Ask the rich, and they may tell you that Life is to be able to live a life of luxury. Ask a terminally ill patient, to them life may be the ability to get by day by day without delibitating pain.
Life, a myriad of details, with no instruction guide on how to win it.
Sometimes, I disgust myself with how weak I am. My mind thinks one thing, in my heart I am strong. But what comes out of my mouth is at total odds with what I actually mean/ want. It’s by no means compulsive lying, nowhere near as subconscious and it is not meant to be vindicative, but I dissapoint myself and lie to myself over and over again.
Sometimes I miss my family so much it actually physically hurts to be away from them. Sometimes I wished that I’d never come over here, that I still study in NUS. Then again, sometimes I love this place and the chances and opportunities it offers people, to be more than what other people tag them as.
I’m not making much sense am I?
But for now, it seems my path is set in stone for better or worse. And I will, I have to make the best of it.
