I will romanticise my life, because it’s the only one I have I will paint till my hands are a patchwork of colours I’ll laugh, loudly I’ll sing, off tune And I’ll dance, Like know… More
Kintsugi
It’s all fun and games until you spend some time with yourself. Alone. That’s when it hits you. The depth of your being, somehow wrapped in abject nothingness. Overwhelmed yet numb. At peace but despondent at the same time. Sometimes, it’s alright to pause and say hello to yourself. The shifting gears offer a shift in perspective, allowing you to pick up all your pieces and glue them together differently. After all, the whole is always greater than the sum of its parts.
Downswing Days
I’ve realised I mostly come on here and write on days I have something happy to report. Be it my physical or mental well-being or a step forward in the right direction, be it any aspect of my life. I do it with the firm belief that sharing is caring, that someone out there might read my pieces and smile, take heart and hustle on. Indeed, your kind comments have proven it to be so.
Yet, on days when I’m not feeling my best, I refrain from writing, either feeling vulnerable at the exposure or feeling like an imposter for having written all those uplifting, self-care advocating posts when I cannot simply gather myself together. Today is one such day. Half of which has passed.
The other half, however, I am committed to change today. I will address you on days that I am down. I will share with you my darkest thoughts, sorrows, fears and words. Why, you ask? Because maybe, just maybe, someone out there might read my pieces and smile, take heart and hustle on in the knowledge that we all have our ups and downs. Our moods have upswings and downswings. And yet, nothing lasts forever. I know I will get back into the right frame of mind soon enough. And you will see the difference. As would someone else who’s currently berating himself for feeling the way he is currently and admonishing himself for not being strong. It doesn’t take strength to plaster a smile on your face and pretend everything is okay, winning accolades and love from everyone around. It does take strength to accept there will be days when you won’t be at your best, that it is okay to take a break, take more than a few moments to be with yourself, accept your feelings and let them live out their life cycle in you in a healthy manner and, most importantly, it takes sheer strength to try and love yourself when you’re on the brink of self-hatred.
So today, I am willing to acknowledge that there will be days when I’ll be an irritable, slobbering, whining, selfish mess. But that is till my mess. I own it and will overcome it. I will live through it to better days. And I will do so without assigning blame to others around me when their behaviour ticks me off just because I’m in a mood. I will heal without damaging another’s mental health. There is a heart big enough in me to love them and myself. I will be real.
What do you say to that?
Word ladder
To read is to know
To know is to grow
To grow is to bow
Before the great unknown
Ageless
At times love feels like
An old friend catching up with you,
Bringing with them a distant memory of saner days,
Of happier days, perhaps?
More carefree,
More wild,
More impulsive,
And more intuitive.
Days when we were comfortable with being who we are,
Without any pretences,
Or obligations.
Yes, I think sometimes love can feel very much
Like an old friend visiting you
And picking up the conversation from where you left it off ages ago
As if no time has passed since
Because love never really ages.
A Trifle
There are love songs, and poems, and ballads, and odes
There are Romeos, pining after their Juliets in hordes
There are myths, there are legends, there are epics of olde
There are operas on tragedies, moving the staunchest of men to tears untold
And then here’s
Just a little love note that I wrote
Self-care
I write every day now
As if the words might leave me again.
I write not to fulfil any need or desire
But to remind myself
Of who I am,
Who I was,
Who I can become,
And who I can never go back to being again.
Spilled Ink
I haven’t written anything in a while. I Hope words haven’t completely abandoned me yet. I can sense them lurking behind doors. Like shadows, ever evasive. They make their displeasure known, brushing off every tentacle of thought I extend their way. I fear this time an olive branch will not be enough. This time, they demand that I bleed into ink.
Page turner
Sometimes it’s alright to turn the page on an unfinished chapter. Not every story is meant to be read line by line, from beginning to end. Some passages blur, some sentences trail off, and some words refuse to be written.
Ink may spill and be blotted out, but a broken heart keeps its own clock. It does not mend on command or follow the tidy rhythm of a plot. It heals in pauses, in silences, in breaths taken between what was and what will be.
So let yourself rest. Rewind if you must. Sit with the blank space. And when you are ready, pick up the pen again – not to rewrite what has passed, but to begin anew. The next page is yours.
Book review: Long Time Gone by Charlie Donlea
This is the second book I’ve read by this author. Picked it up right after I finished the first one (The Girl Who was Taken)! I quite enjoyed the fast paced writing with action packed climaxes. Both books are built on interesting premises with perfectly timed suspense that really keeps you guessing. You suspect everyone in turn until the final reveal. That’s when you realise you’ve been expertly played by the author like a flawless Beethoven symphony and you’re not even mad about it!
What really sold these books to me were the strong, intelligent and well-written female protagonists. My only gripe with this book, it I had to have one, is that the ending leaned towards the unrealistic territory which let me down after setting extremely high expectations. I still thoroughly enjoyed it.
Now, I’m diving straight into Don’t Believe It by, of course, the same author. I’m already on the edge of my seat, ready to believe everything these pages through at me!
Unwrapped
Ended this year by stepping outside my comfort zone – did something completely out of character for me. Was it cathartic? Probably not. Did it make me feel good? Definitely yes. Would I do it again any time soon? Debatable.
Life is made of little moments. How we navigate from one to the next, that little interlude, is what defines our future. It just might be worth exploring how slightly different nuances can guide myriads of outcomes. Because, you know, a butterfly flapped its wings somewhere.
This post could well have been a diary entry for my eyes only but it’s not. You see what I mean?
How do you meet an old love?
Sit down for a cup of coffee, and maybe a pastry too. Because, somehow, he still remembers your usual order.
Talk. Of things long past and the ones longing to be. Of the people you once were, and who you’ve grown to be.
Look into his eyes, and see how memories haunt, how pain lingers at the edges of tentative smiles.
How do you meet an old love? With an open heart and trembling hands that still remember how they fit into his.
Flights of Fancy
In a quiet corner of my favourite room,
I sit with my Kindle and let my thoughts wander.
They swim over the words before my eyes,
Rush across the polished floor,
Till they reach the sunlight streaming in
Through the daintily curtained French windows.
They drift outside and wander on,
Spanning the garden in its floral delight,
Following the path that signals the end of night.
And here, in the quiet corner of my favourite room,
I sit still—
While my thoughts wander still.
Moonlighting Scrivener 