For a long time I have
Erased and rewritten
On the same sheet of paper
Words that get refined and polished
Just to become vacuous
The moment I bring them to surface
Now this sheet threatens
To self destroy before my own eyes,
The language unclear
The lines blurred beyond hope of recognition.
A story worked and reworked
with feeble foundations
And a lost identity.
I'd better forge
With a blank page
And start from scratch
A more profound plot where
My name isn't nowhere near
The secondary character list.
'Don't leave me, please.'
' I love spending time with you'
'The hues of your hair are beautiful'
'I'm here for you'
And yet, these words were nothing but a dazzling costume designed to conceal the nothingness he had carefully woven in his soul, perfectly crafted to catch an unsuspicious passer-by.
Now that I'm on holidays, I have more opportunities to think about my life, where I am and where I'm heading to.
Sometimes I lose direction and fail to tell the relevant apart from the useless. On my last working day prior to the holidays, I was stressed out. For the first time in my career I had a managing position this year, which means endless work hours on bureaucratic school paperwork and angry and frustrated parents. I accepted this job thinking that I could make the difference, but time proved me wrong.
Like Oedipus, I hurled my voice to the winds, but my call echoed in the nothingness of the empty halls around my office. That last day my body, which isn't as fond of metaphors as m...
Sometimes memories strike you like a thunderbolt. Sometimes they don't tiptoe into your conscious state, they simply clear their way with a sledgehammer until they become visible.
That was grandma yesterday.
Every shared smile turns the fabric of space and time into a seamless work of art.
When I inch my way in the crowd, I often feel lost in a labyrinth of pieces of glass, each tinted in a different shade of the light spectrum.
Some fragments dance in the breeze to their own tune, some mirror others' moves, some intercept the sun beams and alter the reflection of the rest. Some swing menacingly over the others, some are shattered in uncountable pieces on the ground.
At the center of that maze is you, a crystal as transparent as nature allows, standing serene with all the hues carefully kept in your pockets, inviting me to be myself.
Thanks for your response dear...
Sorry for Mah late response...
I wiSh U will get everything u love...
Keep smiling always ☺ T. C. Urself
Love & care from India 🇮🇳
® Sinu ™ 🗿
Wanting to run aimlessly, Forrest Gump style, until every worry is left behind and I'm only breeze and light.
As the last sunrays trail off this evening, I look through my window and see the tall faceless buildings surrounding my backyard. Their orange and pink tinted walls stand around my cherry trees, fully blossomed in white. Even though I know my neighbours, their lives remain shrouded in the mystery built out of bricks and mortar, painted in pastel shades.
The sunset has tiptoed away from the day, and I simply walk back to the familiarity of the strident yellows in my kitchen, where I am just another human behind my own walls.
When the daily quicksands of uncertainties threaten to devour you, the only solid structure that can be built is a bridge between two souls.
Has it ever happened to you that some people seem to have an aversion to you, and you don't know why?
Most humans are hieroglyphs for me: alien but also feasible, for understanding the symbols written all over their reactions is not unattainable if you have found the pattern underlying the intricate combinations of tiny drawings.
However, for some people, the Rossetta stone is useless.
Some of the dumbest questions people asked me:
1) Why don't you have kids?
2) If you don't have kids, why don't you go dancing and have fun?
3) Why don't you drink alcohol? Is it forbidden in your religion?
4) If you are a teacher of English, how come you have never been to England?
5) What do you do all day, apart from working, since you shouldn't be so busy?
6) Do you really understand when people speak in English?
1) I don't have the foggiest idea. Neither do you.
2) Because I don't have fun by going dancing at a club.
3) Because I don't like the smell of it. It's like I'm a vegan, but with drinks. Only that Vegan sounds more chic than teetotaler. I should come up with a coo...
El sonido necesita un medio en el cual propagarse.
Esto implica que en el vacío, en la ausencia de toda sustancia, prevalece un silencio puntilloso, preciso y sostenido.
Quizás por esta razón soy una supernova más del universo insonoro para los rostros que gravitan graciosamente, cada uno en órbita alrededor de sus propios soles, mientras mis gritos son devorados ávidamente por la nada.
You move in circles but time pushes you forward.
When you look back, smiles have faded into tears and, regardless of how you retrace your steps, the resulting image is blurred, a mishmash of expressions. Nothing is crystal clear anymore.
I wish I could see the light in your transluscent soul, enough light to help me make a leap of faith to the quicksands you're standing on.
Love lives in every small gesture we have towards others.
Two days ago, I was rather tense before a syntax presentation I had to make in a linguistics congress. To be honest, my topic was a bit dull (copular clauses), so the attendance was about twenty people.
However, speaking to a teacher audience is always challenging: they are constantly evaluating your points and making connections you might have not seen (I know this from personal experience) :)
Two familiar faces showed up in my presentation at the last minute.
One, my English 1 teacher, the very first teacher I had when I started studying at Uni. She sat at the back of the room, irradiating widsom and calm as she did when I was her...
Grateful for this day.
Grateful for your smile every morning.
For mother's love, for father's guidance, for brothers' life-sharing.
Grateful for my job. For having the chance to do what I love and be paid for it.
Grateful for the people I meet: the good have taught me where to go, and the bad what to refrain from.
Grateful for life.
Some try to clutch novelty and meaningless fun, in a desperate attempt to keep their coolness afloat, while they let empathy drown helplessly in the deep sea of their egoes.
This noise they chase after, the polished photos of their meals, the meetings with friends that appear to be no more than drinking buddies, all this mishmash of events carefully selected to prove that they love life and fun.
While running this race against time itself, building a bond with other people is too laborious. To continue with the masquerade, they get some other humans to be the backdrop for their amusement.
I rather be light-sabering with my own monsters in writing or in silence, than putting up a facade of ...
It will all pass.
That could be my mantra, the words I cling on to when the exits to my daily labyrinths are shrouded in darkness.
It will all pass, the pain, the sadness, the stress, the illness, the wounds, the people. This will all evaporate and leave no trace.
All I can do is put my bravest face on this storm and build myself so strong that any quake will see me unperturbed.
I can't sleep tonight, and I was thinking about the people I have met here and on other writing platforms.
Writing and reading for me are a sort of safe haven I turn to when I need to feel myself again. I don't have much spare time (except on holidays ) so the minutes I spend scribbling my thoughts or learning about others are precious.
I have found out some friends that I feel close to my heart and who truly care about me, like O, San, Alma, Artie (though we fight a lot :)) or Brie. They are the ones who read my writings, who ask 'are you ok?'; in other words, people to whom I matter. These people are also better than me in different dimensions: better writers, better thinkers, better ...
I found myself floating again
Towards the shore of your indifference
With no lifejacket in sight.
But this time, instead of insisting
On shouting your name to the winds,
I built a precarious raft
And took the reins of my heart.
You may not prevent the tempest from coming my way.
Yet I find
in knowing that you will be by my side
While I search for a path to the nearest
She was the most clichéed narrative under the guise of a woman and I was a microtale. His reading skills being quite mediocre, he chose what he could make sense of.
It's one of those days in which life kicks you and throw punches at you, and all you can do is try to avoid them as gracefully as possible.
We can change what we notice to be wrong.
When I reflect upon my actions, I see myself wasting my time on trying to fix what can't be fixed if there's no will. The reason for this is that I hate giving up on people, since I earn my living helping others see their true potential and find a better future.
Many times, it is too late when I notice that people are crossing one of my lines. Some of my friends usually help me see where the blurry thin mark was so that I can see who has overstepped it. I find this extremely difficult, so while I'm learning to set my limits and priorities, my friends are my scaffolding.
This is one of those times in which I have an epiphany, a sudden realization ...
Who knew that under the spider web of lights hovering on the city that evening I would fimd the very thing I have been searching for during my whole life?
Should there be more than one universe,
with parallell dimensions and intersections,
Find me in one of the narrow paths in the forest,
And grow old and young and old again by my side
Every thought of you is peace, it means finding a well brimming with simple joy in the desert of coolness called modern life.
Each photo of subjects with vacant eyes and monochrome smiles only brings me closer to the technicolor of our daydreaming.