GULLiBLE

Who's to say we're this or that? For that matter, what ever happened to being critical? It's like, these days are filled with hypocracies narrowed down to plain banter of complete unimportance that is immersed in pure diplomacies and niceties.

I love Chinatown for that complete reverse reason: people are real, I don't see fancy theatrics that makes me nauseous, and certainly put up with no pretense. Yes, there could be luxury cars and the occasional flauntings, but think about it: they are real people doing real human things, regardless if they are of the good or the bad kinds.

So today I sat down for dinner at my favourite coffeeshop, ordered my usuals, teasing the lady taking orders about needing a menu and recommendation when thereafter, quite innocently, I ordered something else. And later on, she went on about collecting soda can rings so that she could exchange for a wheelchair to be donated to the Old Folks' Home. Such kindness in pure life without the limelight.

I'm sure you and me don't even match up, so quit whining about not knowing what to have for lunch tomorrow when many others don't ever get to choose.

And so, I reflected like a droplet against the mirror, watching myself crash and splatter in complete fantasy, then laying still until the mirror tilts a vertical, and I begin to dribble off it.

This is when I begin to wonder about some people around me that are filled with niceties in a suit and tie or a dress with pretty pleats. The astrocity to speak of the beautiful came suddenly full of hidden agendas and motivations.

By the way, if you find this wordy, well I've always been. You're more than welcomed to finish this line of thoughts and rebutting in your own unique ways.

Coming back, I was told about a friend who went cold with another. And this friend felt hurt because it seemed to be an own-doing, which I, of course, fiercely refuted having sufficient reasons to do so. My friend's a darling, how could such things ever happen, I questioned myself. Now it all falls into place - complete pretense in the most subtle manners anyone can afford to make do with.

Which inevitably brings me to a level above my knees weak in standing up against ill-intents - I now see further and deeper, and I begin to release myself from the grasp of use. I ever regretted some actions, but I would stand by them: Real People lived a Real Life.

I think I am real enough.

So this goes out to one specific person: if you are sorry, don't just say it. Show it and be it. I hate people using and throwing.