a daylight dream

An amiable month has passed, one that probably meant a lot through its normality. Nothing spectacular happened, but I’d like to share with you a lyric from a song so dear to me at the moment: “In this game of hide and seek, I can’t help but think, The ordinary, Has swallowed the key.” I adore finding meaning within the ordinary and simple happenings of everyday life, venerate moments of epiphany and sudden realisations of inner truths and thereof. April has given me that, through its subtle changeable monotony, one that I try to accustom to but failed considerably, since something is always challenging me round the corner. In April, I realised that it’s totally significant to remain who I am in this world, and I’ve got every right to relish this right. I believe it’s rather a blessing to recognise one’s worth and live everyday acknowledging it. I’m trying to cultivate the seeds of acceptance and the hardest thing is perhaps getting bombarded with irration

The closest we could get to truth is to demand it from ourselves, with honesty, integrity and trust. There is no truth more soulful and clairvoyant. I used to lie to myself. I used to judge my needs critically and negate them, just for the sake of being someone I wasn’t meant to be. Someone free of demands, rights and connections. I wanted to exist but didn’t want to face people’s rejection and resistance. But the truth is that we all need something, and we lie to ourselves by believing we will attain that need some time later— next year, when we graduate, get a job, get married, get sick and thereof. We believe that our intuition is merely a nagging voice that we should discard to keep living in our lies, because they’re comfortable and easy to confront compared to the truth. But the truth is liberating and so inadvertently real. It exists within us all, crosses our minds and leaves till we finally pay attention. Because the truth will always reveal itself, its signs

Safely, As the clouds obscure the sun, Leaf-glistens changing colours. Breezes caressing cheeks, Numbing some of our sorrows. Safely, Laying upon the shore, Waiting for tides to bring in hope. Closing our eyes to sleep, Darkness calms us afloat. Then, Waking up to the cold, Greying our gushing thoughts. Change in everything is deemed, Our reality is only what we perceive. You, Need not save my dimming light, It shall sure soon reignite. From skin to sky to space, We need nothing but faith. Us, Growing, entwining, letting go, Left for winds to willingly blow. Wrap up our last words, Enclose them like petals of a rose. Safely, We rest on glass like dew, On a morning we rise anew. Tread gently uphill, Fade not, our sweet will. -- inspired by sweet words sung to my soul whenever it craves the compassion safety brings.

Walking on the grass, a smile slowly and safely forms on my face, easing an inexplicable tension somewhere in my mind. It’s green, but not completely, like a mosaic, scattered with pale weeds and unrecognisable blossoms that change with the seasons. Each step is unique and thrilling, inspiring different sensations. There are unexpected dentures that gently make my heart sink with an endearing surprise. There is moisture that seeps through my shoes, from the dew of early mornings or water sprinklers from yesternights. Some spots are toughened with pebbles and sharp rocks, but I step on them gracefully, acknowledging the idea of obstacles they are trying to vocalise. The grass is a canvas, like the sky is to the birds. On it dwells life and the accompanied secrets and mysteries that we humans can not comprehend; ants and beetles tread with a sharp aim, bees fly from blossom to blossom seeking nourishment, birds walk searching, communicating, eventually taking off an

The dawn pierces through the darkness with impeccable faint rays of light. It also, quite recently, pierces through the deadly silence with the gleeful chirping of birds, melodising symphonies through their morning conversations. And I wake with sleepy eyes that haven’t yet got habituated to the radiance beaming in the living room. I look at what surrounds me and realise that I had fallen asleep on the sofa the night before, completely forgetting to head to the bed. At the other end of the sofa there is you, your back facing the windows so that I cannot see the features of your face— probably tired and worn out. You’re like a silhouette, deeply mysterious and I long for the sunlight to drown the room to see you peacefully asleep. I, myself, am kind of tired as well but it doesn’t cease me from smiling and feeling quite rapturous. I remind myself of our visualisations of the future; how we used to talk so much about striving to be different, to cherish the love in our heart

The world surrounding us frequently nips safety away from us; we constantly fear getting fired from our jobs, not sustaining our lifestyle, getting bad grades at school or even get mocked by others for our views and opinions. These cues shatter our sense of safety, making us afraid, in perpetual worry and doubt of what tomorrow will bring. Personally, I’ve been raised to fear life. I’d always hear advice like: “prepare for the bad days”, “expect the worst”, “life is hard” , etc. I’m not saying that those pieces of advice are irrelevant— no, they reflect truth in miscellaneous ways, only the fact that they instil so much fear is what I don’t agree upon. In retrospect, I wonder about the root cause of my anxiety and think: is it because my mind is unconsciously befuddled with this fear? Though it’s substantially better, I do often fall into lapses of being scared from growing up, becoming an adult and having to face such ridiculous situations and be traumatised by them, like the

You tell me I grit my teeth while I sleep and often clutch at the skin of my arms unconsciously, murmur inaudibly in my dreams some time after midnight, just before the dawn breaks in the short summer nights. You tell me I must be dreaming of bemusing things; ones that add up to the list of questions already bustling in my head. I wake up unknowing of the events of my night, but you’re a patient evening-listener, unwilling to sleep as you organise your erratic thoughts and pay attention to the voices in your head. The distance between us is measured in the appreciated proximity that allows us to part in distinct parts of the day, wandering purposefully in our dreams and inner universes. It’s often quite ironic how at the same time, we could be miles away yet intimately close in the instinctive pleasure our thoughts of each other bring. We are companions of soul, understanding the fluctuations in our dispositions; ones that we had spent so much time paying attention to,

Since the beginning of the second semester, I’ve been involved more and more at work, letting it take up most of my time in proportion to my university courses. Of course, it’s beneficial and an impacting experience that revealed a lot in terms of who I am and what I’d like to end up in the future. I won’t say that I will surely become a teacher but, the idea is highly appealing now. In the past, I thought teaching was such a mediocre career that would never water my thirst for ambition and greatness. It’s true that teaching can become a sedentary job, but it doesn’t have to be. The past few months proved to me how much eye-opening it can be designed to be. Teaching is not about being a teacher, because if we really thought about it so stereotypically, it would become “spoon-feeding”, basically. The authority teachers have in the classroom sometimes allows them to forget the purpose of what they’re doing, and we humans are inclined to put ourselves in control. But this isn

I love it when people dream a little bit too fearlessly; want some unattainable yet possible things in their lives, to outstretch their little hearts and break the bounds of the confined horizons they create for themselves. I love it when they dream to travel the world, enroll in a university when they turn forty years old, move out to a brand new city or build a home all on their own. I love it when people choose to support each other against the uneven odds. Even if this support is only based upon a smile or a mutual act of respect, but it still inspires this bliss in one’s soul to keep going. I love it when people decide to listen to each other’s dreams and give applause on how relevant they are, even if they could come across as irrational. Often times, those sweet words mean the world; they allow us to move forward even for just one little baby step with a confidence we might never be able to sprout all alone. I love it when people decide to love each other even if

I remember that day you were born, I was only eleven at that time yet I remember not being able to sleep the night, thinking of how peculiar it was to have a sister.  A real sister. Your beautiful smile. :') As a kid, I was quite lonely and barely had anyone to spend my time with. That’s why I wished for you and kept dreaming of your presence on the bus rides to school or even through the sessions of doll-playing, pretending I had a companion who would be able to finish off my sentences and add new ones, to keep the imaginary conversations going. And there you came and I cannot describe how joyful that year was. You cried a lot, put my mother into frustration countless times but, I enjoyed hearing your laughs and watching you smile on the bed as soon as you would wake up. I remember those weekend mornings being so beautifully simple, involving minutes spent listening to music, sharing the foam from my cup of coffee with you and urging you to sing and dance along my aw