And so we watch our lives go by, waiting at the bus stop, getting into every bus and
getting out at the next stop. We choose them as they come and leave halfway during the
journey. And in the end we wonder if this is how it is meant to be, where we wait day after
day, in the prickly heat or in the rains, protecting ourselves from the weather, yet
completely open to the world in front of us. We let ourselves go and hope that someday
things might turn out for the good. Would I choose a route that I have been told to take or
would I close my eyes and pick a number, a path, a choice, a way of life. And for all that
these numbers may represent, there can never be an assurance of how life will turn out to be
and whose number would match yours. And so we ask ourselves, would we ever choose our paths
for us to claim it as our lives, or would we let others stake their claim of it? For all we
know, we can never truly guess which road to take and which ones to leave out, with or
without any compromises being made. Yet we trudge on, knowing that hurt and pain and misery
lasts for just as long as we wish it to last, and that being as we are humans, we still
retain our ability to move on and over things, yet however, it still depends on whether it
makes sense to hold onto emotions or not. And that could so much as decide the course one's
life could take, he/she should only give oneself that much thought to know what to keep and
what to throw away. For as they say, at the end of the day, isn't life all about reminiscing
memories of a past life? Then why waste it on misery, and pain when it could be avoided by
just believing in what you see and what makes one happy. Because if living cannot make you
happy why live it; and if not for yourself who are you living it for?