passing cars

What a pedestal that has been set. Without tarot cards, we read our past, our present, and then, a fleeting attempt at the future. Acceptance comes with an underlying assumption of selflessness, or, perhaps, carelessness. Best friends only existed in my primary school. Forever lasted till high school. Circles of mates grew larger than I thought it could be in college.

And today, we clutch cigarettes, coffee, wine bottles or even cones of ice-cream; anywhere with a few I still call friends. Everybody has a story to tell. Human souls, private tragedies, gossips, or good ol' jokes -- all encased in glass and steel, driving to some unknown destination.

Unknown as it is, vulnerable as we are; faces are lined with sorrow and laughter, lined with make-up and the crusty remnants of sleep. Not until the unspoken acceptance becomes tolerance with obligation. Not until fear lurks beyond trust. Not until faults remain one's regrets.

Given the notion of battles of love and indifference that will not succeed, we impede, recede and concede. And that is when we walk away. I have walked away. Once, twice, thrice...and it never stops.