Losing End

Seems like my continuous mental aerobics did me no good in the end. I am stumped with so many questions I decided that the best way to be rid of them is not to think at all. I am hoping that the negative thoughts that I released from my own Pandora's box will now stop haunting me. Though, honestly, I doubt they ever will. Once out, these questions will never leave you in peace.

Sometimes I think it is better to be a simpleton. Someone who lives for the singular moment of self identification, someone whose world revolves around the everyday chores and round about responsiblities, whose sensibilities are restricted to how long the chicken should be boiled before the veggies are added, whose dreams are made of a small piece of land they can call their own and whose lives are bounded by their small world of non-idealism and non-mental opportunitic realism.

I take pride whenever people would recognize that I am a powerful adversary. As an intellectual entity, I've been considered a brain to be wary of in moments when my multi tasking mind is at work. As a creature of practical sensibilities, I've proven my worth in finding the smallest door that leads to the mile long tunnel that welcomes any stranger on the safety nets of one's imagination, milliseconds after the first clue was given. And as a creature capable of physical strains, I think it's enough that I survived and am still surviving in the heart of the metal jungle that is called Metro Manila.

Then again, I think I am most victorious when I am not thinking of world domination, of physical wealth, of the next puzzle that needs my careful attention, or the underlying opportunities on every cabability testing situations but when I am by myself in my room, thinking of how long I should boil the chicken before adding the veggies when I cook dinner later for my family.

In the end, you can never tell who is at the losing end.