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Mighty Jacksparrow is an Earth-based sub-intergalactic blogger who enjoys writing and in the same time entertaining his ever-amusing will-kill-to-read fans with sensationally hilarious and at times dramatic musings. This blog offers endless ideas and results; they might be charming most of the times but could be offending in some others. Therefore, it is always noble to remind that if you enjoy the pieces, carry on reading, but if they upset you, do quietly leave like the evening breeze and not like exploding diarrhea, which exactly what you will look like if you ever lose it on me. Enjoy! :D

Wednesday, February 03, 2010

Change.


Once when I was a kid, someone told me that love was a wonderful thing.

Now, this drove my curiosity up to the roof. I started asking myself about this conceptual idea about love - does it really change the world? Does it have the power it takes to change the world? Let say that I happen to fall in love, could it change my world too? Perhaps to a better, promising futures? Those were the questions that played in my little mind a long, long time ago.

At this point, ladies and gents, I would like to remind you about a time when you were first told that, be careful what you wished for, for you might just get it.

I did wish that love will one day change my world.




It did.


* * *

I spent my day in the heavy machinery workshop, trying to express my little bit of uneasy feelings in quite productive ways - bending sheet metals, knocking some shape onto cold iron blocks, saw-cutting some giant fronds, flaring some furnaces and all the daring activities 'just to get the effect'. At the end of the day I had myself some paperweights, an ultra-sharp machete, close to a hundred kilos worth of cut fronds, burnt arm hair, some bruises and cuts, oil-covered hands and one pair of sweaty shirt.

Typical. I'm a field mechanical engineer anyway. But that's not this story is all about.

At around noon I went to the men's room to fix myself up. I threw my oily, dirty leather-made hand gloves to the floor next to the elevator and knocked my safety boots against the wall to clear it up from metal dusts before entering the men's room that is located next to the elevator.

I pushed on the tap and let the water running. Cleaned my hands and arms and face and neck with the icy cold water, and soon oil and dirt began to disappear, showing scars, bruises and cuts on various locations of my arms and hands. When water hit, the wounds stung. Traces of blood came running in a trail with the flowing water.

My eyes saw all these happening. But I didn't feel anything. I didn't feel anything at all. And I wonder why didn't feel anything at all.

I looked at myself in the mirror. As I lifted my head slowly, the yellow lights started casting shadows on my face, causing me to look like an old, worn-out, weatherbeaten man. Is this how I am going to look like years from now? I asked myself.

These wrinkles, these scars, these aged-look on my face; my God, I said. What have the world done to you, mister? What have the world done to you? The reflection did not even smile- it looked sad, in pain, frustrated. It looked tired, used up, feelings all scattered. It looked like it has been murdered.

I stared long at my own reflection in the large mirror. Millions of questions ran in my head. All I did was to stare at the reflection in the mirror, puzzled.




What changed you, man?

* * *

I did wish that love will one day change my world.

It did.

Only not in the way I expected.



Be careful what you wished for, for you might just get it.

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