And life goes on, as it never ends..

The following is by no means a poem, or a writing piece, just my thoughts on the sad events we are living every day...

People live, people die
People laugh, people cry
People love, people hate
People protest, people agree

People are lost, people find their way
People miss each other, people meet every day

People are freezing, people are tanning
People are fighting, people are sharing
People are working, people are chilling
People are hugging, people are killing

People watch, people do
People talk, people walk
People listen, people scream
People drift with the stream..

And life goes on, as it never ends. Each to his own, each on his own. Boys, girls, men and women, are outside fighting for their rights, while their brothers are inside, drinking coffee and chatting with their friends. Kids are playing, watching movies and shopping, while their neighbors are being crushed by trains.

We are working, totally taken by our daily tasks, forgetting that someone who was sitting on the bench right next to us in college goes to a local ahwa every morning, order his shisha and wait for the jobs he applied for to give him a call back.

The same road that’s taken every day by an E class Mercedes is also taken by a micro bus packed full of people who barely afford the fare, who can hardly breathe through each other in summer and are grateful for the each other’s company in winter. The same amount of money that gets a couple married is the one that buys the center pieces for another couple’s wedding… Isn't that ironic? A little too ironic?

The working guy meets the unemployed meets the Mercedes driver, the micro bus taker, the married couples; meets the protesters and the children and the shoppers and the coffee drinkers and so on and so forth… They all meet each other, every minute of every day, on every street corner, and every traffic light; in restaurants and even at work. They meet and talk and interact; except they don’t really “see” each other. They don’t know; they don’t know what they’re going through or what their troubles are. They don’t know what fate put them in this place while putting others in that one. Sometimes they’re tolerant, sometimes they’re not. Sometimes they pretend to understand; sometimes they’re too angry to communicate. Sometimes..sometimes..sometimes…

I don’t know where I’m going with this. I obviously didn't put much “literary” writing effort in it. I just feel that the world is so unfair, which is something we all know. But lately I've been feeling that it’s sad. Such a sad sad world that we live in! The contradictions are too much to bear, and I’m seriously beginning to think that ignorance is bliss.

I have nothing more to say right now, except that I wish things were more comprehensible, less contradictory and a little more fair.