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My First Time to Feel Peculiar Thing

by: BEN

The first time I labored so that I can have my own money is when I was seven back then. I picked plastic bottles, scrap irons, steel sheets and anything waste that were salable. The feeling was kinda different. Its kinda euphoric in some sense.

My friends already gathered. It was there usual routine. I made myself to join anyhow of what were they doing. They were bringing plastic bags and jute sacks. Me too. I did not tell to my mother that that day I will be doing such. She will surely be mad at me and forbid me of going. And in besides she told me its somehow dangerous. Hard-headed really! I still went on. We took on all the streets near our place, scanning for any pieces of those items. Though we started in the morning down afternoon, and the heat of the prickling sun, though its already noon then and our tommies were jolting already, we were still as vibrant as though we had drunk some energy drinks. We continued to walk and see for more things, in the hope that after the end of the day, we could have bigger money. I can still remember the moment we were close to a machine shop, they all sprinted toward the place. And me too. We took all those that the shop was throwing away. And because I'm just new to it, I didn't manage to gather as many junked items as they did. They were really flexible. They could easily do it. So at the end of all the sprinting, the prickling sun, the hunger and the perspiration, we were now ready to go to the junk shop. That was the first time I had transaction of a kind. The place was rugged, a little dirty, and some foul odor I could smells. Finally, its my turn already, my bag was weighed. Then the man gave me a paper and he told me to proceed to the room he pointed. I did of course. That room was the cashier's room. The cashier exchanged the paper with the cash. And now I recieved the fruit of my perspiration. It was not much. Some 16.75 pesos. The fullfilment was there, the joy, the feeling almost uncomparable. On that time, I felt as though I am independent. Probably they were also feeling the same thing when they've been to the same circumstance but I could not see it in their faces. Probably because they were used to it.

The thing is though how peculiar, or a jerk as others have perceived it to be, to me it wasn't that way. It was that happening that I could see and relate onto how do these people really been feeling. How was their life revolving onto this kind of living. As oftenly I see in the streets people are doing the same thing in order to live, to eat and so that their lives won't just struck there. I have my symphaty to them.

Though many could have just delabled them for that matter, but its a moral thing. It was the thing that firstly bridged me to their shoes and by that I felt a different emotion. It brought me precious memory that formatting maybe could not able to delete it.