seen from Singapore
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from Singapore
seen from Malaysia
seen from Croatia
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from T1
seen from Greece
seen from Türkiye
seen from China
seen from Singapore
seen from India
seen from China
seen from T1
seen from China
"Happy"
Everyone thinks I should be happy. Happy. What is this notion of happy? Smile. Laugh. Engage. I do those things. No one ever said it had to be genuine.
Why should I be happy? Happy gives no inspiration. I want to write grand tales that force people to feel. I won’t get there with “happy”. This notion of happy. I need something to write about. And it isn’t happy. So let me be not happy.
Whirlpool
Society is just a big public swimming pool. You have to deal with people you may hate, be vulnerable and uncomfortable, and swim through God knows what to make it anywhere of substance. All the life guards and coaches are yelling at me to join the synchronized swimming team. They tell me I have too, it’s what all these years of swim lessons have been preparing me for; and here I thought it was so I wouldn’t drown. People look at me strange when I say I don’t want to join the team. I don’t move the same way as others and the uniforms seem so ridiculous to me! I want to swim in the ocean, but everyone tells me it’s a waste of time. I’ll never make it anywhere with that, I’ll get lost, or I’ll drown. I say that I know others have done it, but they just call them special, and hell, I’m nothing special. So I join the team, I do my part, constantly hoping to one day get my chance at the ocean. Year after year I act as a mindless cog in the machine, but so does everyone else. What’s the point? Everyone tells me, it only gets harder, the moves more difficult, and I’ll never get to do what I really want. As I stare up at everyone, I have to wonder why they were all so surprised. I never fit in. I wasn’t ever quite right. So let’s see just how long I can hold my breath.
Inner light
Have you ever noticed how some people have a halo surrounding them? A ray of light that highlights their amazing qualities. You know the people that have one; they light up a room in some way or another, they glow with energy, their smiles cause a spark in even the darkest of people. Sometimes I see others’ halos begin to shine, and it’s magical. Maybe they’re talking about something that they enjoy, focusing on another person and trying to help them, or simply laughing. The halo starts to shine and you can really see that person for who they are. All the amazing ideas in their brilliant head, all the kindness in their heart, all the potential for greatness. I see it grow from nothing until they’re as bright as any star. Eventually I begin to wonder… do I have a halo? No one focuses on the good parts of themselves that shine. I don’t think anyone notices when they have a halo of their own. The sad thing is, we’re all too busy focusing on everyone else’s.
silently misunderstood
I've always loved the snow, loved it more than most. I relate to it in a very weird way. When its first seen, pristine white and clean, it's thought of as pretty. People look to it, glistening on the trees, as a sort of decorative covering. But not much time needs to pass before everyone is sick of it. Sick of dealing with it, sick of driving in it, sick of slipping in it, sick sick sick. It's no longer nice to look at. It's touched the ground now, mixed with the dirt and asphalt, and countless feet have walked on it. Despite this treatment it still falls. Constantly hoping for a better outcome, to be truly appreciated. Maybe if it try's a little harder to be seen people will like it more? But all that does is push them further away. Not enough snow isn't fun, but too much is an inconvenience. Maybe it would be better if it didn't snow at all... I like the snow, I see the snow, I understand the snow.
