these days

i write this from the calm that is my room. its another quiet evening.

today while i was having my dinner at the local hawker centre, i silently observed a bunch of crabs trapped in a fish tank. you've seen them before; all wrapped up in raffier string and incapacitated, counting down the the days to the meting out of their death sentence at the hands of some random chef and his guillotine chopper.

i watched as a lone crab attempted to crawl its way out of the glass prison; legs scrabbled vainly at the sleek walls of its cell as it desperately fought for a hold and perhaps a way out. and as i watched, a voice inside of me stirred and echoed the same sickening feeling that that crab must surely have felt - utter helplessness.

there's people who are content with the lives that they lead, and there's people who aren't. and then there's the people who aren't, but just cant seem to do anything about the rut they're stuck in. i know this to be true, because thats exactly how i feel right now.

i flail ineffectually at the circumstances that have placed me and made me into what i am. and even though i acknowledge that there's much i have to be thankful for, i just can't seem to see past the grey fog of uncertainty that is the present and the future. i wish i were born rich like many of the people i know, carefree and never once worrying about how they're going to make it in life; i too want to enjoy what will most probably be the last few years of my life spent unstrung by the binding cords of a normal working life.

i suspect its a luxury i will never be able to afford.

i aspire for greatness but its always out of my reach. i wade through the quagmire that is my life, constantly in search of that elusive gold nugget that buys my freedom... but i still can't find it. and even though everyone around tells me that its alright because i'm still young... well, its not. not in my book it ain't.

the demonic bitterness threatens to possess me at every corner; it chews on my ambition and spits me out along the roadside, where i lie with the gutter trash and the homeless, stuck in the perpetual cycle of just trying to survive.

and i don't want to just survive; i want to be wealthy and happy just like the people i see and i'm secretly jealous of. there are the times my ambition flares forth and shines with the brightness of a million candles.. but given time, it's inevitable that the brilliance consumes itself, and my great dreams wither and die in the throes of the hope i have created for myself.

wouldn't life be much simpler if we were born with silver spoons in our mouths?

would you find me shallow? understand the dead weight that i drag around my neck and feel the hollowness around my eyes as i stare bleakly at the uncertain future. its abit tough being the only person working in the family for the next dozen or so years, innit?

i've always felt a calling for greatness, but i dont have a clue as how i'm gonna get there. neither do i have the patience to wait for my time to come. as such, the house of cards that is the dream i build from day to day continually crumbles under the pressure that i put it through.

just can't live a life being just another face, you see.

i look at the young and successful people around me, and i question my inability to be just like them.

where am i screwing up?

god damn it. i need something to believe in; maybe its time to start going back to church.