Homeward Bound.

Let me just start by stating a fact most of us know to be true, being human is not easy. It might easily be the hardest thing I have ever had the misfortune of going through.


I used to think of myself and all those around me as this indescribable creature that had these giant wings that were bound to make them fly anywhere they wanted and however they wanted. Turns out that was only my version of a perfect world. Turns out that this visionary creature that was my definition of humans was only just a teeny tiny part of them the better side of me refused to see.

See, I wasn’t always like this, so “cold and heartless”, in the words of my beloved mother. I wasn’t always this naive and, somewhat delusional. At least that’s how people see me. For those who truly know me, have spent time with me, know how I am as a person, they look at me different than anyone who’s only recently met me.

To those who do know me, I’m that “emotionless girl who never feels.. anything, neither sorry, nor sympathetic to any other struggling soul”. I don’t like to think of myself as that. I do feel. Quite frankly I feel much more than I intend to. But maybe that’s just how I am built to be.

See, it’s not always how it seems. I may come off as rude and selfish and cold, but trust me, I never intend to.

It’s almost like I’m two completely different souls merged into one body. What I appear to be to most fellow beings, is a gullible and callow young girl who knows nothing of the world and is perhaps, living in a bubble. But see, a bubble can pop. That’s the thing with bubbles, you blow out a bubble and you watch it fly, it’ll just be casually flying about in open air, without a care in the world, and you’ll be standing there watching it go in awe and then, without you ever really noticing, that bubble pops mid-flight. And there’s a shudder of disappointment that might go through your mind but you brush it off, because.. well, it’s just a bubble.

But see, my story is different. When they tell me that I’m ‘living in a bubble’, a part of me will believe them, but a part of me won’t, I might argue about how they’re wrong nevertheless, or I might stay quiet and not say anything.

But the thing is, the bubble I live in, has made home over a volcano. I do want to get out of that dreadful bubble because it has hold me captive, I’m aware that I am, in fact, a slave to it, but no matter how hard I try and how badly I want to break free, I know that I can’t. I know, because I’ve seen it happen before. Not to me, but to someone who I care about. See, if I somehow do manage to break free, it’ll be a lot like stabbing yourself in the foot with an axe. Yes, I will be free, I will have freed myself from that awful slavery of a goddamn bubble, and yes, I will have made it out alive, but would I have really?

Notice how I mentioned my bubble of a home flying over a oh so very deadly and oh so very alive volcano? Now, if I do manage to make it out, I’ll fall into a boiling monster of a lava waiting to devour me, and whatever will be left of me will have to quiver its way to its final annihilation.

So, in conclusion, I’m living my life in a constant battle between my two selves; the one that is trapped within a bubble, and the other that dreads whatever is to come it’s way after it breaks ‘free’ of it.

I guess I never really can be free, but maybe that’s just how far my imagination is taking me.

*** So, here’s hoping, that one day, someday, the universe will work together in conspiring to help me achieve my destiny, instead of dragging me against it. Maybe one day, someday, the wind will decide to come closer, whisper, “I’m proud of you” and then, using all of its force, will carry me away from the horrible, forever dreaded volcano, and then maybe – when I’m finally where I’m meant to be, the place that had been waiting for me all my life without me ever really knowing it, the trees will cheer for me, the autumnal leaves will hustle altogether as tribute to my undying courage, the dandelions will all dance together in celebration for I will have finally made it and the stars, oh the stars, they will all shine for me as they chant in unison;



You’re A Child Of The Universe.

One thing I always fail to understand is why do us humans think that we need a specific someone to get us through stuff? We don’t, and I’ll tell you why.

Isn’t it just so sad that some people actually fall in too deep that they almost give up their own lives for a certain someone that probably doesn’t care? They fail to realize that the world does not revolve around a specific someone, unless that someone is themselves. You are only supposed to keep a vigilant eye to your own surroundings. What’s true is true, and truth is that at the end of the day you’re all by yourself.

Everyone ends up alone anyway, isn’t it just better to learn to live that way?

We came in this world alone and that’s how we’ll leave, and this should not come of a ‘sad reality’ or a ‘bitter truth’, it’s the way it is and we all have to accept it. Because if we don’t, we’re wasting our lives to oblivion.

I, myself, have had several parleys on this such topic with various people being entitled to various opinions. My personal favourite one was, as follows:

Person ((let’s call them A)): “What do you do when they become a necessity of life? Like, say… oxygen. You feel like you need them in your life to be able to breath.”

Me: “A person is just a person, just another human, a sacred part of the universe trying to understand itself and everything around him/her. They’re mortal, and so is the universe. They should never be such thing as a ‘necessity’, nothing ever lasts.

A: “but when ignored by someone whose attention means thee most to you, the reaction perceived by the brain is similar to physical pain.”

Me: “Isn’t that what we claim to be the ‘saddest’ part? We become so blinded by our own perceptions of things that we forget the way they actually are.”

A: “True, we have a constructed and distorted perception which is subservient to whatever narratives our brain is operating on.”

Me: “Exactly, and that’s what makes us so miserable that we somewhat neglect the actual reason for our being.”

A: “And I thought suicide was a coward’s way out. Just need to constantly tell ourselves the purpose, even if we fail to believe.”

Me: “Suicide is what i believe, to be just the result of what happens when we get so captivated by the tricks our mind is constantly playing on us, that we fail to understand things the way they are. It’s sad really.”

A: “Severe cases result in depersonalization and derealization. I wouldn’t wish it upon my enemy, lest I have one.”

What i think we need to realize is that things don’t always go the way you plan, and there’s nothing you can do about it.


What’s worse is someone close to you, someone you oh-so dearly adore, someone you’ve known all your life, fails to realize these things. You just want to shake them so hard and snap them back to reality somehow and show them that all these buildings, the people living in those buildings, the people walking the dimly lit sidewalks on empty midnight streets, the birds that just never seem to stop chirping, the stars that shine so bright you can’t help but endlessly stare at them – they are all here for a purpose, a purpose they all fail to realize.

The entire universe communicates in a language that is too profound to be put into words. The sun talks to the earth, it talks to the plants that somehow converge with the rays of sunshine disregarded by men. The stars talk to the moon and the moon, to the clouds. Together they make this world what it is. You, my friend, are a child of the universe and you have a right to be here. You hold inside yourself a piece of the galaxy, the universe, do you dare put it to waste?

“Dare not disturb the universe, my child, for it is busy in conspiring you to achieve your destiny.”

The Guy On The Other Side Of The Road

I went to the bazaar today. I stayed in the car when my mom went to the shoe store. There was this guy sitting on the opposite side of the road. He kept rocking back and forth. I wondered if he was high on heroine because he had all these needle marks all over his right hand. I couldn’t help but wonder what horrible thing might have happened to him for him to end up like this, hopeless and lost, sitting in the corner of an abandoned building under a dead lamppost.

One thing led to another and I found myself thinking about my own life. How time flew by so fast without me ever really realizing what happened, how, where and why. The image of me having a tea party with my stuffed toys at the age of 8 came before my eyes and unexpected tears escaped my eyes as I tried to blink them away. I’m such a sappy sob sometimes. And by sometimes, I mean all the time.


It’s funny how things change in the blink of an eye, isn’t it?


One minute I’m kinda just sitting there in the backseat of a Toyota Corolla casually singing along to New Politics, and the next minute I’m all teary eyed. I still don’t know if I cried because of that guy or because of my own memories flooding back to me but I was crying and I needed to stop before my mum saw me.

And now I’m home and it’s been about 7 hours since that incident and I still can’t stop thinking about it. Not that it was that much of a big deal but for some odd reason; I’ve yet to know, it made me feel inferior to my previous self, and I don’t know if that makes any sense whatsoever but yeah.

Now I’m sitting here munching on cookies as I write this post. And I’m not good with putting my thoughts into words that might or might not reach another soul so I’m just going to try and pull myself together. For at least now.


If you’re still reading this, thank you. Thank you for taking the time out of your day and reading about the somewhat riveting occurrence that took place in my usually boring and tedious life. I appreciate it