The strength of a man

THE strength of a man isn’t seen in the width of his shoulders.

It’s seen in the width of his arms that circle you.

The strength of a man isn’t seen in the deep tone of his voice.

It’s seen in the gentle words he whispers.

The strength of a man isn’t seen in how many buddies he has.

It’s seen in how good a buddy he is with his kids.

The strength of a man isn’t seen in how respected he is at work.

It’s seen in how respected he is at home.

The strength of a man isn’t seen in how hard he hits.

It’s seen in how tenderly he touches.

The strength of a man isn’t seen in the hairs on his chest.

It’s seen n his heart … that lies within his chest.

The strength of a man isn’t seen by how many women he’s loved.

It’s seen in how he can be true to one woman.

The strength of a man isn’t in the weight he can lift.

It’s in the burdens he can carry.

This is an excerpt from today’s STAR newspaper.

I have seen the light, have you?

Does it mean anything to you?

Good Day people!!!

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Playing for time

My life at this moment is pretty much like a thermometer. Everything works like mercury; it rises and plunges too quickly without me able to grasp it.

It’s a rollercoaster.

I’m battling against time.

I wish I could stop the ticking clock and sit back to reflect.

I wish I have no regrets over the things I’ve done or undone.

I wish I could welcome the impending disaster with my wide arms open.

I wish I could keep the pace with the changing times.

I know I have to be patient because I’m not alone.

Rome was not built in a day.

It takes time.

86400 seconds a day.

432000 seconds a week.

And what’s left,
172800 seconds a week with my family.

It’s ticking away.

Knocked

Liverpool never fails to disappoint me every time I watch them play. It’s been like exceeding long ever since I really watched a match, the entire match. Yeah, positively the World Cup’s final as far as I could remember was the last match I watched. That match was also another disappointing one. Whichever team I’d supported, it always ended up losing. Damn potong stim.

I would be all hyped up and kan-cheongly anticipating the game. After one goal from the opponent, a little patah semangat, never mind still could convince and persuade myself, well it’s just the beginning of the match. Sadly most of the time, it turns out reversely. Maybe my sway-ness was the blame of the team losing. That’s how my brother accuses me every time I watch with him. Lousy brother, to the extent of asking me to hide in the room.

Good Morning Liverpool!!!!!!!!