the weight of living isn't the highest point in your life

or the lowest rock bottom you hit.

it is neither the dramatic news headlines of dead strangers you don't even know about,

nor the fancy gifts you bought for yourself online.

the weight of living isn't the regret about the past or aimless musings about the future,

but rather, it is the abundant insignificant moments of mediocrity in the present

you can find in anyone, anywhere, anytime,

with little to no variations.

the weight of living

is the eventual acceptance that you are neither the protagonist nor the antagonist of your own life,

is the struggle to accept the status quo.

it is the rebellious streak you hide in favour of fitting in,

is the unquestioning compliance to higher beings you call government and norms.

it smells like the familiar gasoline exhaust which settles heavily on the crowded city space,

and carries the scent of thick, viscous sweat and bodily odour on the evening packed bus.

it is the shamless unconscious humming to your favourite song as you bike along the street.

it is the tired sigh as you count down the minutes until work is done and torturous hours of waiting in traffic.

it is the amusement of sitting in a wagering room full of smiling, chattering elders, to watch your first horse race,

it is the sound of debit machine printing out the bill after you paid for your meal.

it collects in the crevices between the lunch period where you sit alone in a dingy corner of your workplace,

and pools around your ankles as you wait in line at the grocery store for eggs and milk.

it plays on your room's dusty windowsill, weaving between thin crawling, yellowing branches of the golden pothos,

and lingers by the long to-do list taped up by your desk-side you have been putting off.

it grows a little with each family meal you eat together,

with every meaningless smile you flash to blurry, faceless people you don't really want to talk to.

sometimes,

the weight of living feels like midday sunlight searing onto your hair,

or the burst of energy from the morning caffein kicking in.

other times, it is the emptiness rattling about in your skull while your body repeats a mindless motion over and over again,

or the dragging footsteps of somebody trudging home from work way past midnight.

the weight of living has always been with you since the beginning.

it curls up snugly on your chest as you fall asleep at night and when you first wake up in the morning.

it is your friend, your foe,

it is you, whether you like it or not.

and you carry the weight of living on your shoulders every day,

as everybody does.