Next stop

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Waiting for the bus when you’re already late; Nobody around, all you hear and feel is you and yourself. How it is like watching something slip out of your hands so slowly yet so quickly at the same time. 

All my life I have waited – for success, improvement, love and people. It’s been hard; the anticipation and anxiety. I repeatedly discouraged myself and my heart gradually weakened.

It’s different now.

Being forced to acknowledge the struggles of living and growing up, these setbacks are ironically my saving grace. It is through the emptying, that I go back to the first time I picked up a pen, to take note of the feelings I have.

Now, I am sitting on a double-decker bus. The sun is setting, and it is growing a little stuffy. As the bus revs up its engine, I look out the glass panel and see a young boy with flailing arms chasing the bus, getting smaller and smaller. I can’t help but chuckle.

Wait for the next one. His timing is perfect. I have to believe in myself. That’s all

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