Wednesday, February 22, 2006
My childhood sounds so much like Seng Chye's.
I rememebr, sitting on the school bus, my awter bottle was the joystick of the plane, and together with my wingmen, we shot lasers out of our wingtip to incinerate the guys on the opposite seats.
I remember how my pals and I used to cycle round the neighbourhood in our super bikes, blasting the crap out of the evil space aliens.
Other days, I'd lead them off to far away land and we would have mighty missions to accomplish, planets to save and people to rescue.
Damn.
Men resigned to this. Born in peace, but meant to fight. The heroes find their blades rusting in the lazy setting sun.
Heroes left with no burning castle to save, heroes left to ushering maidens around.
Is this the kind of life that is meant to be?
I try everyday to be the perfect gentleman. I try every day to attain some stupid loathy goal. Everyday, it's filled with something that will only see me to my grave.
And the funniest part? This misery is self-inflicted. everyday, telling myself that I can't do this and that. Everyday telling myself to play according to the rules.
I'm quite sick of taht.
Gavin
pondered @ 21:16
