writing in the first person

It was one of those days I wished Yakult come in 500ml bottles. I always thought sandy playgrounds are non-existent during these “everything’s made of plastic” times. When I saw one I knew I had to grab that opportunity. The last time I felt I was eight again was during that karaoke session. We laughed. We cheered. No pretense. No Cowell. For a fruitful 4 hours.

And then everyone goes back to work. Not that I don’t like work. Work fascinates me. I can look at it for hours. That’s what my playground is for at the aftermath. It works like karaoke. Someone casually remarked about me belting out the same old songs every time. I thought to myself and realize that's essentially how I feel about life. We tend to play it safe in our comfort zone. When we picked an unfamiliar tune or a slightly more challenging song, we run into the risk of going off-key. Everyone has his or her playground somewhere. A place about a certain comfort and solitude.

I kicked off my shoes and dashed to the swing. I propelled myself forward and swung to and fro for a good half an hour. And as I slow down, I felt the sand touching my feet as they rubbed against the ground. It felt warm and I imagined the sand enjoyed it as well, if it ever had a life of its own and lamenting the fact that they are probably going to replaced by cork flooring in time to come. Nonetheless the kid in me had my fun ride. I thought to myself as I stepped down the swing “So, what’s in the deal now?”