My Burden And Hers
I was on my way home from work last night when I spotted a busker in her teens. She was a girl with thin, brownish wispy hair and she had that burned out look about her; the kind of looks you just forget immediately, and she was beating one of those battered tiny drums made of recycled plastic containers, and the beater was made of water bottle with rice grains inside, to create a rather more interesting sound, I presumed.
I was watching her quite a while, since the car that I was in wasn’t leaving for the next twenty minutes – it took a while for it to get full in the evening – she was handing out those dirty envelopes to people and started singing. I didn’t put any money in it. In fact, I was quite annoyed by her intruding my own thoughts and rudely shoving the damn thing to my face.
When she collected the envelopes back, I noticed that her posture was near perfect – her back perfectly straight and her chest and butt stuck out. Then I looked at my own condition – sitting in a huddled public transport that forced me to slouch down until my back screamed with pain and I considered myself defeated. Through all the years of my life I was unable to stop myself from developing this kind of posture, as it was the mental burden that made me think it would be quite a struggle for me to maintain the correct posture – such as this girl would have – all day.
I felt a sudden flash of envy for this girl, for her posture I would never have. For the simplicity of her life that didn’t require her to carry so much on her shoulder, when all day I was forced to bend my back with the force of gravity from the desktop at work. Then I thought it was deeply ironic considering she would probably kill to have the life that I had, and yet I had the audacity to envy her for this one meaningless thing.
I kept watching her intently as she cleansed her feet playfully in a small puddle of dirty water near where the other cars were parked.
In the next five seconds, some idiot got on the car and pushed me aside so I was ended up wedged in between this skinny girl and the idiot himself who was obviously more on the obese side. I knew instantly that I would get massive pins and needles by the time I had to get off.
When I looked up to where the girl was, she was nowhere to be seen.
3 comments
Err…
If I didn’t know you well enuf, I’d tell you to get a life! Hehehe…deprivation does weird things to people…
ther are you okay?? goes for me too.. if i didn’t know you well enuf.. i’d say the same thing too.. heheheheheh miss you sweety pie!
I need to elaborate on this one but i cant be fwuacked…