NeW sTaRt

 Ah, procrastination's here knocking on my door again. The weirdest thing is that it brings a great rush that numbs me to the deadlines that I keep for myself. The deadlines that would enable me to produce quality over quantity. The deadlines that make me a planner. That makes me do whatever it is that I stand for. It waltzes in so effortlessly, breaking down every small bit of me I slogged to build. It drags on until I think I have to find "the fire" within me and set it to everything I see. I guess lucky are those whose lives aren't yet plagued by this cause and effect. It is told time and again that you can keep a fire going to push you to your best. You light it in whichever way that works for you whether it be self-hate, doubt, harsh goals, or bitter truths. Maybe my list tilted toward the dark side there, but no post-its saying "you can do it" ever worked on me! That's what I wish to change moving forward. I believe that the strangest thing you can

Imagine a world wherein your character traits; the good and bad are personified.  These traits are separate individuals who you tend to attract and are willing to spend time with so as to decide whether they are something you want to keep in your life. You are left with the characteristic of judgment and decision. It's quite a mighty task to perform. It's what formulates strategies to deal with the bad ones and strength to not be overdosed with the good ones. It's what helps filter out daily interactions and limit any issues should they arise. The point of personifying them is to make it relatable to the kind of people we interact with and the ones we are close to in life. When they are separate individuals, it's easy to categorize and assign some sort of value. You have an inner circle that can be a healthy mix of whatever qualifies as good and bad for you, your mental and physical health. You take from it what you want and what suits a situation. The harsh reality is

The early dawn that day was never meant to be seen by me because the simple taste of exhaustion put me to a well-earned sleep I woke up a bit later than usual that day with an obvious peace felt through to my bones; the kind that comes right after a month of the hustle-bustle of our bittersweet lives. The sky was a type of blue that I have only read in books about Its something I've always imagined a happy sky to look like of course it was nothing compared to the mighty blue I could see in front of me Where the river circled to meet the ocean And touch, shyly while the wind blew by ever so mildly  carrying the salty hints of a nice day Little did we take in this view that we switched our attention to the myriad of tiny precious things That filled the sand Those shells being picked are somewhat of a tradition a bond, a memory of a necklace-making activity! Oh if I could I would pause the time  in that moment when my shoes had more shells than it could hold because we got creative wi

  I read somewhere that maturity is when you accept change without drama and fights. It said to stop asking why they lost contact with you and that you notice the change and accept it with a smile. I believe that's utter rubbish. Walking away with a smile is often painful and unnecessarily saint-like. There have been instances where I have done it. Didn't ever make me feel mature just made me wonder where I went wrong. Over and over , stuck in a loop of thinking I'm not good enough. I feel that as long as you still fight you are finding a normal and human way to channel the fact that you still care and want to maintain that relationship. Not entirely justifying fighting as it never always reaches a solution, but bottling it up and pretending it never happened tends to be worse . Why do we normalise to deflect our negative emotions with a smile? Why is that enthroned with a powerful term as maturity? Why do we overuse the term mature when there is actually no true standard t

BLURRY BLURTINGS a random thought amidst the mix of all things mundane it passes by  and I entertain it never been one to resist its temptation but I guess this one brings that feeling you know?  the one where something rises to your throat; breathing, is it one in, you out? at that second nothing adds up memories feel hazy I am forced to fight the urge to scream not because it makes me look weak or crazy but because it wouldn't make the crippling anxiety vanish. how can I be shut down with temporary relief when everything about the half a year gone by is etched into my mind like those sweet engraved gifts you give to someone you cherish. somehow the scene shifts the corner of my lips fights gravity because it is reminded of the taste of precious moments the ones that would make little to no sense to an outsider because they look at pain with pity that's alright because I know I never did collect the energy to paint that portrait to let the world know the colors I felt. will it

The sweetest thing about a conversation lies in its randomness. Then there are ones that can't be explained to another human without background, the ones that bring a wide smile to your face, the ones that keep you up at night deep in thought, the ones that have luckily been typed out on text and etched in your heart verbatim. In all these instances, it boils down to just the shared connection and finding new ways to keep it intact. The unexpectedly beautiful conversations come about when you have the least expectations. When you just take a shot at the other person and hope they catch whatever it is that you're throwing, you might just find something irreplaceable. That's the beauty of references in texting. There's an organised way in which the thoughts flow and the ideas meet to make the prettiest of memories! Of course the autocorrect plays the role of the villain and comes in the way of the words finding a way to your heart, but it'll stay in your mind anyways.