I used to envy people like Syafiq and Syuqran. They've got the life I've been yearning for: adorned with luxury clothes, bags and shoes, dripping like liquid gold from head to toe, faces of angels and bodies of Greek statues, advancing in career at the speed of light, to come home to a sexy apartment and people lining up to get a taste of them, or so I thought, and I felt like life is so unfair. I've been working hard but I'm nowhere near as "successful" as they are and they seem to have it easy, sailing through life on a yacht, not having to row the boat like I do.
But time, time's got an interesting way of revealing the truth, and over time, behind that alluring façade they carefully curated, like a sexy art gallery, I saw darkness, ugliness, and hollowness that not many people can see, but they're so good at hiding them, even the most experienced person would have to take more than a couple deeper looks, there's not even a hairline crack in the wall, just beautifully painted portraits, in golden frames, hanged at a perfectly sharp angle, but no matter how good they are, they can't hide the stench in the air, that seep out of the floor's pores.
Of course, I still dream of better life for myself, and for my mum, but I've learnt to be thankful for what I've got, and I don't envy them as much I used to, any more.
