CALOUSES

Every prick becomes barely a mosquito bite. Every wound, just a scratch. Every blow, I'd willingly give the other cheek too. The piercing summer sun and the glare of noon is just another day basking under the sun for a good 'ol tan. Every act of spite, ridicule or snide remark is just another's way of exercising ones freedom of expression. Every lie, deceit and manipulation is nothing but the reality of wickedness spreading like brushfire. Every means of extortion, corruption and gluttony is someone's excuse for survival. Every gossip becomes the currency to buy time and solicit free cups of coffee. Not just ordinary coffee.

A caloused person can only go stronger, fed by the anger that gives him focus and the drive to seize what is duly his. Barring all obstacles, the world conspires to give him what he wants. He should really want it that badly like it was his only ticket for salvation. In a world of crabs, those who know themselves and stay true to themselves get to enjoy the fresh breeze at the top while 'em crablets keep squirming about each other like fish out of the water. When you're up there, the air is clear and though 'em neanderthals try hard to feed you with their filth, the wind up there is too fast, too dry and too cold for the stench to ever get sucked up. He who feels nothing and values nothing is treated like nothing and is worth nothing.

A step closer to being nothing is like being the only star that graces the evening sky.