Life is afterall a fiction. A story with a beginning and an end.
Love is afterall a distraction from loneliness.
And happiness, a distraction from sadness.
That sounds so logically, cynically true.
Browsing through entries on the OLD OLD forgotten blog.
Stories of the blouse and the cake.
Here it goes:
- I bought a blouse that i like tremendously. so much so that i am reluctant to wear it for fear of staining the nice new clean top. i kept it safe and straight in the wardrobe. months down the road, i took out the same blouse only to realise that it is already out of fashion. I have no desire to want to don that now.
- I bought a cake back then. a cake that looked so yummy that i curb my temptation by putting it in the fridge so that i can slowly savour it bit by bit instead of stuffing it down at one go. the cake was forgotten for i did not open the fridge frequently. days past. and the cake was already spoilt when i finally felt like eating it..
The two stories are superb analogies. about regrets and reservations, amongst many others..
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