[not a story] the world is the best teacher

he is busy

the last two weeks been so hectic for certain type of people. after a long holiday, suddenly there were all those enormous tasks waiting to be done. all the delayed projects demanded to be touched, all the hidden thoughts forced to pull out. causing one worked so hard, remaining zero time for themselves. he cried to sleep, getting tired from all the heavy pressures. yet couldnt do anything but got those tasks done by tommorrow. 

for another type of people, fortunately they didnt belong to that type. but, should i say unfortunately instead?

because deep down in their heart, an envy emerged.

they wanted to be busy too. got stuck between all the deadlines that are real. yeah at least those are real. not just some loads of bullshits people this century called mental problems. they'd be dissing themselves about going through depression, as a defense mechanism to stay alive. "i already shitted my self. later when people finally understand my unworthiness, i wont even bulge by then. i already hurt my self, so you cant."

those thoughts kept her busy twenty four seven. three six five.

and by the time the sun got down when the skies turned into purple, once again she's reminded by his back that always faces her face.

he's still busy. 

with loads of works behind the notebook.

yet she was, still there. busy with her (prolly) insignificant thoughts.