It seems as if all I’ve been doing these past few days is float around.


That feeling when you’re neither here nor there. Like a fluff of pink candy floss, soft and sticky, yet unmoved by the wind. Swallowed by the gulf of emptiness, the head weighed down with bundle of thoughts.


These days, I find myself wishing I could be tougher. That the sight of an old man in ragged clothes, rummaging through the pile of garbage, doesn’t tug at my heart. A torn sack slung across one shoulder, dirt under his long uncut nails, his unkempt hair and beard that needed shaving.


The homeless person on the pavement, his body all curled up, the arm as his pillow, sleeping soundly as if the world didn’t exist. I wish I could walk passed him without any guilt. I wish I didn’t stop walking, didn’t consider.


I wish I could tear my eyes away from the man who crossed the road, his arms moved ever so swiftly, dragging his paralysed legs. I wish I didn’t look back.


I wish this heart could be rougher, more bitter. Because the pain is so real, it aches.

I wish I have all the riches in the world. To give those homeless people a home of their own, to feed the starving mouths proper meals 3 times a day, for the world to be equal, devoid of poorness.

For everything to be better. Just better.


The heart, if it’s colder, might feel less pain.

But that doesn’t make me a worthy person.