When the world gets tough, I come here to my little home of a blog to find a certain brand of comfort which no other place can provide. Here, I find silence as I watch my sorrows surrender to this overwhelming force of stillness and grace. Here, I heal from the violence of the world outside. Continue reading “You Deserve Flowers Tag”
A few weeks ago, I was nominated by Jess to do the Book Blogger Test. She shares her fun adventures and writes a lot of interesting things on her blog. My current favorite is her blog post on the future of content creators. Make sure to check her lovely blog. Continue reading “The Book Blogger Test”
My head was up in the clouds today: soaring like a lonely flying creature in the gloom of this inclement weather, allowing itself to be blown away by the gust of these stormy skies.
My only source of stillness was the thought of coming back to the university, to that one place in the world I can always come back to and call home. Continue reading “Homecoming”
Hello everyone! Last week, I was nominated by Angela for the Unique Blogger Award. She blogs at lifeofangela where she documents her everyday life. She recently hit a thousand followers so make sure to check out her blog and celebrate this amazing milestone with her. Trust me, she is super nice and sweet. Continue reading “The Unique Blogger Award”
Weekends are for crashing into bed and tucking yourself beneath blankets; your favorite teenage playlist banging rock music in every corner of the room as if it is some kind of a personal familiar comfort, melting the world of its temporary intimacy and sense.
Weekends are for reminiscing and travelling back in time. Your unmade bed is a space machine and your imagination are wings transporting you to a decade of wander and wild spirited youth. Continue reading “In Remembrance of Youth”
My heart still
breaks a little
at the sound of
I wonder where
you are, or how
you have been
or how many nights like
these passed by without
you noticing or
once, on an August night
we were together
and you were mine.
Have you ever looked at people
and told yourself that
one day you are going to
write about them?
about how her lips pursed as she
uttered every syllable like a
prayer before a God
that is not there;
about how the sound of her strange
pronunciation floated like mist
over the fading of consciousness;
about the silver tongue you wish
you could erase
if only to break the barrier
that is language.
For a star to be born,
there must be one thing that
must happen: a gaseous
nebula must collapse.
This is not your destruction.
This is your birth.
Today I stood in the middle of a sea: a great white sea of papers and parchments and pain crashing one after the other with all the madness of a tidal wave, screaming to kiss the shores with all the urgency of a ticking time bomb. I stood in the middle of the raging waters and looked longingly at the immeasurable vastness of this now foreign territory, an ocean-deep of memories from my five-year stay at the university. Piles and piles of papers lay before me like flowing river: test papers, term papers, thesis drafts, photocopied pages of books from all of my adored authors, sheets of scratch and sentiments.
I looked each of them with wistful eyes, trying not to remember the long tough days when I once clung onto them like a child, like my whole life depended on every single word written on their pages. I read these words now, treaded on them carefully as if trying to extract a secret code, to see if maybe I had missed something important in all of my five-year education in philosophy. But in the end I only see these words words words and the absence of their context, their meaning, and realize that maybe I could never think again as deeply as when I did when I was there in the university—face to face with the unspeakable colors of dusk, the gentle breeze wheezing from the lonely river nearby, the gentle rhythm of trees swaying as in a dance, the sound of students’ laughter seeping through the cracks of time.
What if I am just an idea formed in the
mind of another loner like myself?
Halfway across the globe, face pressed
against the windowpane, staring into the
pouring rain outside, wishing she had
somebody to call on—somebody to discuss
anything with, from what happened last
night up to the parts of a person they would
never let us love
Frozen lips blue with asphyxiation pressed
up against the warm lips of the coffee cup
possibly the only lips she will ever get to
press up against in this lifetime of solitude
and peace and silence she had built for herself
If we could bend
Like plastic time
To fit through gaps
And twisted crevices
If we could flex
Our lonely insides
For jaded souls
That need not saving
If we could coil
And then recoil
And flutter away
Like woodpeckers do
If we could flinch
In freezing silence
Who would remember
What fools we were
If we could bend
After we are broken
This heart elastic
And rubber soul