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Saturday, August 09, 2003

Topshop has more stuff to buy from. The darn Roxy slippers are still winking at me each time I step into a Roxy/Surfbabe shop. I shall not let my evil nature surface. Stop buying, girl.

I suppose most people do not realise how lucky they can be. After all, life isn't perfect. Some, have money showered on them but claim that their parents do not love them? Do not understand them? How often do we go shopping with our parents for the pleasure we get from shopping with them, or does it all boil down to our parents being our walking ATM machines? Or is it because one is able to afford buying for the brand rather than the product, but hanker after love in their life instead? Or perhaps, brains, figure, looks, money - almost perfect doesn't it seem so? Yet who are these people to ask for more, to ask the whole world to treat them how they wanted to be treated? Indeed as a friend of mine puts it, God is fair. For every one of us has at least a major fault for each goodness we make up in. Take a rather stereo-typical example. Guy A is good-looking but he's not likable. Guy B is below average, but he makes up for it in brains, or in character. :) *ponders* Is that all part of being human? Individuality.

If all these differences were to surface and repel one another, wouldn't the world be "war" and not "love"? I suppose 'acceptance' and 'tolerance' are the key factors to why this world has so much love in it. Unfortunately, it is a pity that not all are able to think that way. That's why life can suck, at times. Those little matters that make you bang your head against the wall and wonder why do such people exist? I suppose I fall into almost everything mentioned above. But, I'm definitely not the only one. Neither am I the worst of the lot.

Its all a matter of perspective.

Only children are mainly spoilt brats. Do I think so? Most probably they are. Because I am one too.



x`p
6:01 PM

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| The Girl |
Twenty-two
Aquarian
Just bummin' around
With too much on her mind,
and too limited words to say.



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