It's been a hobby of mine whenever I log on here, I click 'next blog's button.
It's fun to read what other people have to say, what their thoughts are, how different we all seem, yet we are one.

Mostly, people write about their everyday lives, many post how much weight they lost, others about crafts and gardening and about cooking, some about how their lives are just going all wrong, and how they're pissed off, and how life seems so dramatic for the teens who blog. And the last, people post about their thoughts, desires and dreams. I'm can, hmm, say that I am one of the last.

I'm munching on cereal as I type this sentence. I'm loading 'The Hunt for Gollum' movie on YouTube. I'm listening to the Sunday showbiz chatter on the telly, talking about a sex video scandal. And everyone's ignoring me at MSN at the moment. Bah, it has always been like that.

It's fun how people describe how life really is, how it bores them, how to see happiness in the smallest of things, how life is suicidal miserable, all from different people, all different views, all different beliefs. Sometimes I can't imagine that each of the people I see have different names, each leading a different life, a different childhood from mine; and some of them might've been little heroes. Each of them have a family to feed, each of them struggling to live, and trying to survive by life's rules. Each have their own complaints, their own fantasies and dreams. Each of us wanting a place in the world.

Last Thursday, after the shoot, my sisters and I were waiting on a line for a cab going home. A little girl with sampaguita approached us, barefoot, face ashen, and looked at us with puppy dog eyes.

"Please, please give me a few coins, just for me to buy food, please."

I would usually give out a spare change of whatever I have to those children; but the thing is, I didn't bring my wallet, since I was a free-loader, because my sister's wallet's going on a show. I said I didn't have any change. She pleaded again.

The sight of her broke my heart a little, thinking of what home she'd go home to (it was 10:30PM then) or if ever she has a home. I thought, what would it be like in her shoes (hmm, that might be a wrong statement, seeing as she's barefoot :b), waking up to find no decent breakfast, her drunken, bum of a father lay asleep, while the mother's feeding her new-born baby with mere milk. My imagination went on like that, and I looked at her again. Finally, I nudged my older sister, and asked her if she had spare change.

"No, nothing."

I kind of glared at her, half annoyed, the sight of the kid didn't even soften her. At last, she pulled her wallet out and gave change to the kid.

The coin was almost worthless if you're going to spend it on something to satisfy your hunger. It's only worth to buy crisps, or a few pieces of candy. It wouldn't help feed a family of seven or eight; but her face lit up, as if my sister gave her 500 coins or something.

The people on the line looked at us, and I wondered if they thought us fools or kind, and the men sitting across the road on a coffee table, looked at us, too, and I'm very much curious what they thought.

People can be very weird. They can be bad. They can be good. Heartless, or giving. Lugoons, or gifted, or assholes.

Maybe that's why I don't like being around with people, or crowds, or the company of someone I barely know. There're just a lot of judgment, ideas, thoughts they wouldn't want to tell you, and honesty's the last thing they'd want to tell you.

Maybe I can wish for people like me (lollll) or my sisters, or some cousins I'm close to, and some few friends to multiply by night and invade the world so I can go out and be comfortable with everyone.

Mental thought, that was. Screw that.
Maybe I just need to accept that we're all different and try to mingle with people and understand our differences and just try to get along.

I think that's a better idea.