Alone in the Fields

I’m the person you usually see in the chair in one of the corner of the rooms. I’m also the one that you seemingly ignored when you stopped for the traffic light. I’m the one you bumped into a bookstore but scurries hurriedly before we can make our serendipitous encounter. I’m the awkward person you meet at the bus stop. I’m the one in a white uniform with black outlines in the pocket beneath. I’m the one you passed by in the streets or you might have notice me for just the little soul there taking shelter in roofed buildings while the rain blows its hard drops sideways…

 

I’m the person buried in textbooks of endless information. I’m the person whom struggled to pass every semester of a standardized (euphemism intended) college. I’m the one who found comfort in only a pen, paper and my imagination. I’m the bland person whom society pushed away for a while. I’m the noisy person who had been burdened in the shadows of solitary journey. I’m the one who have attempted to sleep peacefully for eternity. I’m the one still alive for a worthless and useless and pointless reason. I’m the person still alive yet deep down already dead. I’m the person too coward to face his demise. I’m the person torn between reality and fantasy.

 

But I’m also the person that started with a colorful canvas then awash by the storm and the colorful paint drips down on the puddle beneath. Then for some reason, I’m also the person you noticed walking everyday and every time and wondered why a person is holding an empty canvas… I was the few whom you ceaselessly pester about till before I knew it, you restore a few palette in me – simple but it was a start…

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