Wednesday, May 23, 2018

Little Miss Schizoid






2 August 2017 


I have to fragment myself
To keep me company
I have to be around
People I can
Trust 





Artwork by: Zeenchin

Tuesday, May 8, 2018

let the past, pass






28 April 2018



 In about 2 weeks, I would have moved out to live on my own for 2 years now. Time sure flies, it all feels so surreal, almost like a dream. But for most part, it has been a nightmare. One that broke me in, one that still haunts me, but also one, that I feel was absolutely necessary. I needed those harsh yet honest lessons. 



I won't lie, as much as I hold an optimistic perspective, it has been hard to forgive myself. Very hard. But I'm learning to speak to myself in the same way that I speak to others. Although my actions & choices were laced with folly, it genuinely came from a good place in my heart. I may have disrespected myself, but I know that I treated people well - I never looked at what I had to gain, I simply wanted to give and I just gave to the wrong people. 
It is nauseating that I have to be so guarded when all I ever meant to do, was to help. But that's the way the world works and I'm no longer one to live in denial of what truly is. 



I value people the same now, I value the good people even more, and it's time I value myself. 
Just as I can see the beauty in everything, I can see the faults in anything as well. 
What was unfortunate, was me seeing the beauty in every one else, yet only seeing the faults in myself. On retrospect, I only had harsh words for myself - I didn't need any one to hate on me, I did such a stunning job of undermining every fibre of my own being, Impeccable, even. 



Circumstances that shrouded my life, and were beyond my control, had hardwired me to demean myself and to always see myself as lesser. I have always held so much joy & pride in the achievements & milestones of others, yet only nonchalance for my very own. 



It's time for a paradigm shift, it's time to finally let the past, pass. The past doesn't define who I am, it defines who I was. My conscious choices & actions hereon, are what truly defines me now. 



Emotions will always be hard to run by, especially when coupled with depression & anxiety, but that should never mar the lines for me to discern each situation objectively. 
The situation never lies. 





"Between stimulus & response, man has the freedom to choose. " 





With the exception of wonky serotonin levels, I choose happiness. 



At every bent that I should break, I shan't. 
Let the past, pass. 



-

Wednesday, April 25, 2018

Dreaming Realist








every weaker side
  you see
is becoming of a 
  stronger me

   past upon past
 piled on the floor
  rebirth with mirth 
waltzing through doors


catacombs mind and
  a labyrinth of thoughts 
seek and you shall find
  what holds the true faults


guarded by a realist while
  the dreamer sits throne
where upon love lies
   can happiness ever 
        call home



-



Written 22 July 20

Saturday, August 12, 2017

most people are better in the abstract









                                                                Some days my
                                                                Heart palpitates
                                                                With a fear that
                                                                Embraces the
                                                                Bated breath


                                                                As I
                                                                Sink
                                                                Into the
                                                                Light of truth
                                                                That my art
                                                                Is one
                                                                With
                                                                My heart


                                                                 


                                                                    -


Written on
 2 August 2017

Saturday, August 27, 2016

rose tinted








tinted in rose
glaze after glaze
how many hits to take
till it fades to waste


wide eyed past dusk 
questioning tears
sound asleep with a colossal mask
quenching warped fears


almost was never enough
all the lies a rough draft
same sights different eyes
the vice of truth is pure wrath


lifting the rug
skeletons in a hole
how deep was it dug 
would i ever truly know






----




Friday, November 20, 2015

how cryptic










Empty - is a strange feeling.
Could you even say it's a feeling when empty is tantamount to the absence of something, anything.


Perhaps it is the point of perfect juxtapose - at the edge but never over, the bent before the break, where black meets white , when good and bad collide.





Empty;
is like a dreaming realist.

is like a walking contradiction.

is like the solitary mulling in the flurry of activity.

is like having so much to live for yet wanting to die.

is like feeling happy and wondering what the catch is.

is like having so much to say but saying nothing at all.

is like being told a lie and pretending that you believe it.

is like falling in love with the flowers and autumn comes.

is like coveting a happy marriage yet fearing commitment.

is like being surrounded by a sea of people and feeling alone.

is like consoling a friend when you're falling apart on the inside.

is like the romantic in your nature and the cynic from your nurture.

is like seeing a flashing neon sign that says happy when you're sad.

is like the smile on your face partnered with the scars on your wrists.

is like sticking out like a sore thumb and being thrust into the limelight.

is like knowing that nothing you do or avoid would make it better or worse.

is like wanting to hug someone and cry yet knowing that you would smile at whoever you chose to see.

is like sobbing in a movie theatre of strangers and that's the most comfortable you've been around anyone.





Perhaps, empty is an irony.
How cryptic.






Monday, November 3, 2014

New sights



So, in a couple of hours time, I'd be waking up to get ready for my first office job. The thought of it gives me slight jitters, but more than anything it's excitement- I've never done this in all my 7 years of working. Doing predominantly freelance work has kept me on my toes all these while; the nightlife, my now defunct blogshop, dance gigs, events jobs... I always had the freedom of choice. To work or not to work, it was simple as that. Working meant higher digits in my bank account, but I always had the choice of turning a day of work down. Not that I ever did actually, I never said 'no' to work, even if it meant running back and forth 3 jobs in a day- C.R.E.A.M, right?

Yet, this new journey is really daunting to me- Incorporating some kind of routine into my erratic schedule feels, really weird. Funnily enough, I've always found a sense of comfort in my lack of stability. Waking up not knowing what day it is, waking up scrambling to my organiser and frantically flipping through the pages to figure out why my alarm is set at that particular hour... And now, hello 4 days a week of hearing that annoying beeping at the same time every day. 

Even more bizarre than routine incorporation, is the fact that I'm taking up an office job. I've never once envisioned myself ever having a desk in an office. Well, change is good, right? Maybe not being completely topsy turvy from the rest of the world would do me some favours. 

It's going to be a really interesting time for me, tiring no doubt, but interesting. I'm taking on this job on top of everything else that I'm already doing and mid month, a possible teaching stint. I guess it's going to be one hell of a time for me, I've yet to settle into the changes that this year has bestowed upon me and here I am nudging those already shaky Jenga blocks of life. Time to step up my game. 

With all that self pep talk said and done, I still stand firm on one thing:
Fuck mornings.

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Ship In Harbour




Some days, I'd dream that you'd come back. But on others, I'd wish that you never would. This small city is but a harbour, and you, you're a ship. You are safe here, but that's not what ships are for.

alma mater




Went past my alma mater today and was hit by such a huge wave of nostalgia- Pressed against the glass, staring at my surroundings, wide eyed. It was half an a half; dreaming of a better life and reminiscing better days. 


Funny, really. 7 years ago, I stood at a fork in the road and made my first " real world " decision that changed everything. 


How would my life be like, if I had picked the conventional route- The route I had mapped out over years, the route I was supposed to step on, the route I had envisioned for myself. Yet I turned a 45 and picked the other trail. Everything that I had never imagined, came to be my life. 


At 16, I would never, in my wildest imagination, think that I'd be living the life I'm living now. 


It amuses me greatly;the path I've chosen, the choices I've made, the company I've immersed in...and the person I've become. 




" It can be such a mangled ride,
Maybe we write to save our lives " 








-



Thursday, September 25, 2014

Game Face On.



She got a seat, huddled close to the window, flipped her hair to a side and adjusted her hoodie. If only this bus ride could last forever; trapped in this moment of subtle solitude and briefly relieved from the duties of an expected smile and an upbeat disposition. Why do people treat sadness like the plague anyway? 



She'd been walking on this tightrope of faux placidity the entire day, that though, was manageable. Then came company, and her game face was on. That, didn't sit too well with her but 'responsible' was the word. For months now, she'd psyched herself to learn to live her life a particular way-"compartmentalisation'. Her warped pragmatic mindset of having complete disregard for those nasty surreptitious feelings and trudging on with her day like all was fine and dandy until there was time to deal. 'Compartmentalisation', was 'responsible'.



She had never learnt to deal the "right" way. Alcohol, nicotine, caffeine and, as ironic as it sounds, pain. Those were resident tenants in her library of coping, her little companions of solace. They say that misery loves company and those were hers. 



She scrolled through picture after picture, and through her fervent scrolling stopped on a collection of photographs- Circa 1997. Childhood. That one last untainted year before everything had spiralled into the nauseating disarray that ensued. Her lip quivered and she bit on it, but a sneaky tear escaped. Oh, the things she'd do just to go back to then. 



She stared out the window, every other living soul around her shut off by the music wafting through her earphones. This bus ride could go on forever. If only it could. 




" Perfection is a disease of a nation ", those lyrics snaked in and constricted her brain in a chokehold of mental suffocation. 




She'd been chasing a ghost her entire life. 




"We shine the light on whatever's worst". How apt. 



"Then you break when the fake facade leaves you in the dark". Impeccable. 




She stood before her door, that bus ride didn't last forever. The turn of the key was tantamount to flipping a mental switch. 




She took a deep breath as the lights came on. Game. Face. On. 





" You are nothing but a husk of a person ". 








*******************