It is a lonely night where the street lights ahead glow dimmer and dimmer. A man dragging a bag of a hundred tonnes staggers forward. He never seems to have a slight thought of stopping. Days after days, he gets more distanced from familiar faces. He finally collapses when his torn feet can no longer carry the wrecked body.
We never know how long our lifespans are. Are we supposed work hard so that we do not age to start begging for money; or enjoy life as we move on because we never know we may collapse the next day?
If you are born in a poor family, you probably have no choice after all, even though work all day makes a man dull and kills his creativity.
What can make things worse is when people try putting extra burdens on you when you can hardly catch a gasp of breathe. You can risk putting relationship at stake if you do not want to suffocate yourself.
Some nights I do dream of my legs powerless. I understand well what it symbolises in the reality. It is never fun to struggle strengthlessly.
Do I have to hurt myself more before I can learn to enjoy myself?