a daylight dream

              With every flick of fire disappearing into thin air, her mind wanders off to the memories related to her recent place and time. Every song, smell,place seem to be a reminder of what a naive person can suffer from as a result of loving the wrong person. That with every belief came a high price to pay, endless nights, absence of emotions that makes you look dead. It’s similar to the dark forest with no guidance, or a raging ocean that has waves so high that it devours all that in its way.     All what people can see is all the courage she mastered up to cover up the hurricane inside her . That willpower she recomposes as her other side awaits the anguishing moment to heartlessly torture them all. It’s like she wants to be away when it all happens, yet be able to hear their screams, feel the ground shake from how unmercifully she decided to put justice in to action and in the place of murder. You can see the glow in her eyes by the fire pit and under the visib

Lately, I've been trying to get closer to myself, to just spent a few moments on my way to work trying to listen to my soul, shushing those voices that tell me to listen to a podcast or an audiobook to make use of my time. I'd listen to calming ambient melodies and observe my thoughts drift from one to another like the soaring January clouds.   The more time would pass, the more I'd get bemused. I'd step out of the bus on the way to the classroom thinking, "who am I?" and the answers would bounce back and forth till the blur of the motion turned blinding. Even though I was supposed to head to make a difference in the world and whatnot, I didn't even know who I was. I've had those thoughts ever since I was fourteen. I even remember giving myself several names based on different versions of myself, who were bright in some moods and morosely sombre in others. Would the answer lie in listing endless points of strengths and weaknesses? Definite

One question I have always been asked is “what loving the wrong person has taught you?”.  At that moment, the world seemed to stop. My pounding heart was the only sound heard in the drop dead silence, my eyes used to prickle with tears from the wound. The burning scar that is everlasting, that has created hundreds of other invisible ones inside out. The muffled screams and the gaping of my mouth, as I fail to find words to explain whatever my heart and mind were deciding against.  Loving the wrong person was a wicked haunt, the killer or should I say killers were always on the loose, I was always on the run for a refugee only to find myself in dark places, the more I run, the more taunting it got. Till I reached a moment of helplessness, numbness and misery. So I did what I can do best at that time surrender my soul to no further fight, nor obligation. As time passed, I learnt patience, somehow these moments of defeats seem to help me regain some will power to start finding the

I've been clearly distant those couple of weeks, but it's been a whirlpool of events. My grandmother passed away a few days ago and I had to take my time to process it before I could write anything. Some mornings, I would wake up and tell myself to write something but words wouldn't come, which made me feel quite odd. It's like I have lost a part of my identity. I'm here to talk about how my perception on life has changed the last couple of weeks; what truly matters in the very end. I watched my grandmother go through rough fits of being so close to that world we know nothing about, and it struck me that very few, yet cardinal things matter in those very last moments. I had to take some time before sleeping analysing what I'm truly chasing in life, whether they are things that would make me more at peace, more in love, even more ready to face death. Looking around me, I find that people are concerned with trivial issues. We fill our head with self

She closed her eyes for a couple of minutes as she felt the salty water hit her skin, keeping her refreshed. The moment takes her back to a similar setting ,to a night scenery that is unnoticeably loud, where people are everywhere, each in their own little world. She was then in her own too, bright colors, neon lights, deafening music, presence of individuals swarming the place. In this very moment, she didn’t feel lost, she felt content, she felt her free spirit breaking loose from all the attachments. She is laughing , singing along, smirking and messing around. It’s like the aura of the place she is in is connected to parts of her , maybe her wild side? Is it the one shown now? All those familiar faces she used to know the good or bad are absent and maybe that what was the only refugee she knew that was safe , calm and welcoming. The new company she has now seem to fit her perfectly, no songs bringing sad tears to her eyes, no certain fragrances that used to weaken her body and

Initially, I was supposed to be writing this post back in September after our little London trip last August, which truly left an immense imprint in my soul. I must testify that I have so many travel posts on my mind which I haven't reflected upon yet, but will do so soon.   I'm writing this because we all have our dreams to experience life elsewhere. Not because we don't love our hometowns, but because this world is so beautiful and worth exploration and discovery. Limiting our experience to one place only limits our capacity to experience life-changing moments, out in different terrains. It all comes down to thinking big and believing you are worthy of seeing different places and even falling in love with one of them enough to call it the home of your heart. Dreaming of experiencing life elsewhere is but a way to make your life richer, more meaningful and worth living. Personally, a few years ago, I wouldn't have dreamed of living elsewhere.

One autumn morning with orange leaves laid down on the ground in a perfect picture.The cold breeze creates a symphony to all the people on the busy street, the soothing wind seem to bring smiles to everyone’s faces. Some are reminded of a happy memory or others think that it’s a temporary remedy for their open wounds. All those faces seem to hold so much more than what their mouths have to say, what their hearts’ express and what their minds can think of. My own mind seem to be lost in its own abyss, as it wanders off to all these thoughts accompanied with my own.  The little cute café seemed to be my refugee these past couple of weeks, when I mask myself as one of the strangers in the street and become unknown to those who know me, maybe because they really don’t know me. The pen dwells in my blank notebook, as I am kept indulged in my own little world. The years passed by with all its pain and sorrow, each comes with the exact same motto of “change”, “growth” and “he

I'll start this by saying that just a few years ago, I was a little bit afraid of dreaming. More precisely, dreams were worth ridicule and contempt, for they'd be too far-fetched to be realised. But, I do remember, that sunny January morning in 2017, when I decided to dream again. It was miraculous how it all spiraled very swiftly, leading me and many others to living our lives in terms of daylight dreams. I find myself magnetised towards intending to dream, in search for meaning and magnificence. Truly, it is not quite important for a dream to come true, but to intend to    truly realise something and find the world sending you signs and divine guidance to keep you going. Whether the dream comes true or not, that is a test of faith, to adhere to persevering and learning what the many plot twists of life signify. So, here I am, at the onset of a new January; sanguine, cold and thrillingly empty of occurrences. It has become a treasured ritual to sit back and rene