Had a good long chat with her. She made me realised how easy it has been. For me. That I have not seen much of this world. A good quarter of a century. And I have not even tasted the gnawing feeling of an empty stomach. The choking taste of thirst. What right do I have to smirk at others? I feel so ashamed. Like she was throwing her sarcasms straight at me. I wanted to die. I looked back innocently. Pretended that everything she said was something I've tasted before. My chances for survival should I step into her life? Zero. Seriously. she was still able to laugh some things off. I would have bawled my pants off if I went through half of what she did. I am no fighter. Neither am I a survivor. In retrospect, I don't think I'm fit to share the grievances of others. What more to dispense words of support? Should they know, I'd be the last person, EVER that they want to think of in times of desperation. My idea of desperation? Peeing in a squat-down toilet instead of the sit-down version. I desperately feel like dispensing some tight slaps on my shameless face now. |