I feel like a bottle of coke in a vending machine
complacently standing in a case,
waiting for someone to have the exact amount of change to cash me in
watching people and their shenanigans all day from the best view in the machine
the plethora of ways that everyone’s so different yet they’re all the same
one day a 6 year old did come, preferring to transact my sugary insides instead of healthy bisleri
a choice that has not been particularly ‘trending’ lately
I’d anticipated this day since I could remember
but no one told me that the best view also felt the hardest thud when you finally touched the bin.
enduring the blow with complete humility
I’d lost some of the fizz the 6 year old so excitedly anticipated
disappointed I held it together
because when the little boy actually got to have a sip
it was at that moment that I knew that its the journey that matters more than the destination
the moment before it happens more than the moment itself
and that’s when I realised that life is so much more than the end flag and red ribbons
it’s about the track you had to run through and all emotions you endured to reach those red ribbons
more than those red ribbons themselves
and if in case you do miss some of your bubbles
don’t worry there’ll be someone there who would choose your sugary insides
some six year old whose just excited that he can hold your red and white clad body in your hands
regardless of how many bubbles you lost
