Sometimes..

..I wish I’m like my Dad, built and took care of the family and house, have the moral courage and initiatives, protecting everyone he loves.

Yet, sometimes, I’m so afraid I’m like him. A worrier who fill up his mind with negative thoughts and damage himself physically, emotionally and psychologically, even to the surrounding people.

He would give a helping hand to brothers and friends who fucked themselves up sometimes and do not even care.

I believe only in helping people who helps themselves.

He is firm and think that things are his way, and in the sense that he is always right, sometimes to the point as if the world revolves around whatever he think he is.. just sometimes.

I am fickle-minded sometimes, because I believe nothing is absolute in this world.

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