.soul is what makes us.

I walk down to the pathway and look upon my only mode of transportation to get me back to my home. It does the job fine but I don't really feel safe in it.

I look up at its fiery red body and admire the low oil consumption it gave me. Also, the freedom to move around freely is another aspect I love it.

However, the pitter-pattering of raindrops against the land are getting more and more frequent.
"It's the rainy season" I thought to myself. One of hand with its fingers crossing, hoping that it'll stay pitter-pattering till I reach home. I checked the bike and voila, no raincoat.

I hop up my bike and start the engine. The roars it made are muffled by my protection helmet.

I scooted out of the parking lot and revved myself back home.

Soon, the pitter-pattering of raindrops turned into torrents of slashes. Water is fluid, but it can penetrate even the hardest of substance. My windshield is the only protection for my eye.

Its getting even colder as I zoomed left and right, avoiding other bikers with raincoats and butt ugly cars.

My vision is getting blurry and I try to wipe it with my left hand.

Soon, I was shivering.

I took a turn and almost fell down braking for a stray dog. I moved left and let the dog cross the road. It's wet. I look down at it and watch it slowly pass the road. The stray dog must've had a worse day than mine.

I turned my head and continued driving. I know soon, I'll be in my car again. But I feel for those without a car, whose whole life had been dependent on a motorbike. I feel for the dog, it might be a dog, but it's cold too.

I reached my home and opened the door, my dog reached out and jumped at me.

"hey bugger, you're one lucky bitch u know that?" I scrubbed her and said those things at the same time.

I went up and took a hot shower. Then I lied on my bed and cranked the volume for "Hey There Delilah by Plain White Tees"

I realize that no matter how hard I feel for them, I never did anything for them. Never tried, only thought. Sometimes thoughts are not all, its the actions that counts.

I continued to lie on my bed anyway till dinner time.

Sometimes, I think my heart is an idealist but my brain is a realist.

I made a conscious decision there and then.

"A good deed a day never drowns away" - jimmy
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September 14, 2007


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