Tightrope

Today I eavesdropped on a conversation over lunch. Eavesdropped because I did not contribute. It got me thinking.

A fragile bunch we are, tethering on the edges of multiple personalities, troubling ourselves and the people around us with the idiosyncrasies of our attention-seeking persona.

I remember the Animal Planet documentaries from television and how they depict animal newborns as feeble and helpless, but within hours of having their placentas licked off their still wet furs or scales, they're running around escaping from seasoned predators or snapping frogs off leaves for food.

Teenagers in Singapore are still feeding off their parents at the age of 18. Just because we can operate a microwave doesn't mean we're apex hunters at the top of the food chain.

Back to the main stream thought - the frailty of creation. In such a complex spider mind-map of blueprints, it is hard to ignore those who came off short of a few nails, or missed the software upgrade on the way out of the womb.

To the fortunate few, they appear to be stories and myths of a less-fortunate reality, a tale told through coffee and used to widen the audiences' scopes of the cruel world in which we live. In the end it's like watching an end-of-the-world film and then robbing old women after that.

To those near the epicenter of the tragic tales, the frailty of creation means more than a short story or a simple reminder. These creatures lose the fragmentation so enjoyed by memory and personify into a child or person once possessing the same hope-granting quality of a toto-ticket during Chinese New Year.

Human nature bid us help, but in doing so are we throwing them a buoy made of lead? And have we also confirmed the fact that they're swimming in a sea of wet cement?

Besides, all ya gotta do is put a crocodile into a room of daisies to make it all a cute picture.