It’s 2:12 in the morning and I’m still up. I can’t seem to sleep because of my bad cold. I tried to temporarily make it bearable with Drixine, but it seems it has irritated my nasal passages. Now with nothing else to do but wait for drowsiness to kick in, I might as well blog away.

Life is hard for a proxy. You’re there because the other is not. You try as much as possible to be what the main guy is and maybe more but it still doesn’t count because you’re still not him. That’s it. Period. End of story. The sad part is when it’s all over and main guy is back in action and ready to play, you’ll be placed on the sidelines, until, of course, you’re needed again.

I think that’s why I called myself Dakila in the first place. Translated to English, it’s called loser. Wonderful. This must be the side-effect from doing a Smallville marathon — episodes one to fifteen in just three days.

We biked Maarat for the first time Sunday. The ride was awesome with long climbs and good trails. If I’ve known that we we’re going offroad, I would’ve used the knobby instead of the slicks. Then I would’ve certainly kicked the asses of those punk freeriders and showed them how real bikers ride downhills.

Time is now 2:30 and I’m still not sleepy.

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