Ever felt that surge of thoughts running through your head that compel you to take stock?
It feels like that NFS underground game- you're travelling at a break-neck speed, you can see the bright lights around you; they're pretty to look at but you can't make any sense out of them.
You're travelling at great speeds and you love it, but why the hell are you going so fast? What's the fricken' motivation?
Why the hell should you be part of the race? Just because you happen to be on the start line and the numbers 3-2-1 come flashing on your screen? Just because all the others around you hit the accelerator when it comes down to 3-2-1?
Let them race. I'll park my car in the pit-lane and go catch my favourite burger with chilli sauce and a soda.
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