The wooden board is hard, but I am glad I have a place to sit. As I wait for my friend to come, I wonder what in my life is amiss? I haven’t been talking to my mother, we had a very stupid fight. But that alone is not my worry that keeps me awake in the night.
Even when I am at my happiest, I can easily come with hundred reasons to be panic. It’s like I willing try to make myself unhappy. I wonder how life would be like, where we don’t have any worry. If I go by what my friend has to say, then that is never happening because he believes that there is no heaven or hell.
But then again, find me one person who has never disagreed with the other.
Most of my problems are all thanks to my imagination. If I ever get a headache, I secretly think it’s cancer. Though I am scared to die, I wonder why I don’t live. Every moment in fear is as good as it never was.
The board has started to hurt me, but my friend still hasn’t come. Since I have no where to go, I might as well play with big brown dog by the steps.