.of an old man with extra life

Let say you play a game and you are at the final stage, and you are yet having too many lives.

Will you keep going to end it, be cocky that you are immortal, never once failed any stage, but actually you used cheats? Or will you go back to other previous stages where you scored low and amend, because you ain’t that perfect?

What would be your choice?

I breathe the smell of papers and ink these few weeks. There is such a chill in the morning when i am alone, tuning on the radio and the door at the back shrieking as if someone is entering. And somehow i can overhear girls chatter about their PMS, and how it hurt so badly that they couldn’t even attend classes. And sometimes the boys was so loud i thought somebody is in trouble. And at noon, there will be this smell, almost like the smell of a cigarette, coming from the window.

There’s a big fat fruitless tree outside and some papayas are mysteriously falling from it.

Can you imagine? It’s almost like i am living in a haunted campus, like those in Thai movies.

I see big mistakes we human do. And yet we ignore. We step on the same mud, and blame the rain every-time. We opt to stay when everything’s changed.

.

.

.

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Is our brain limited?

If so, why do we have this constant thirst in acquiring knowledge?

Why do people love lies?

Should us be living a fake life?

I think i need to reread Sophie’s World.

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