The Silence of My Voice

Hello. It's Day Twelve! An anaesthetic mind is a brilliant one, but also an apathetic one at that. Numbness is a nearly adamant quality to adapt as a human. But as humans we're also immensely soft inside. One merely needs a hand and we disintegrate into a million masses of a million people who've been living inside us all our lives. Real isn't what you feel when you're by yourself. You're really your true self once in your life when everything you take as gospel comes crashing down in front of you. When you're busy dissipating along with your beliefs. We all find lost pieces of ourselves in various people we meet everyday. I hardly believe we like anyone because they're similar to us or completely opposite to us. I, undisputedly, regard that we like people who're missing what you dropped off somewhere a long time ago. Because you associate more easily with that sparseness than you do with what you both endow. And we're always looking to lose ...

Hello, everybody! And, it's BlogMas Day Two! I had a very quiet day today, as it happens. I had a goodly amount of sleep, woke up absolutely refreshed to a cup of cappuccino, which I was excited for, to be honest. Know this, friends. Coffee is the best way to wake me up - not in a let the caffeine kick the zombie out of me, but physically get me out of bed and fight the internal zombie of sleep.  My yesterday's conversation ended about how people become a habit that are seldom easily let loose. The issue is, no matter what one's circumstances, or what one must have been through, there's always someone they let a peek of what's on the inside. And I don't mean it wherein only people who have been passed an emotional turmoil do that. Almost everyone for infinite amount of reasons do that. And it's really easy to lean outwards than inwards. Well, most times.  I've talked before during my first year of college many time how harshly your bubble abo...

Hello, Everybody! So, this is BlogMas Day Uno. I actually had quite an eventful day, as it happens. I was slogging most of yesterday, night and early this morning. And at 7, this morning, I finished the left-out parts of my dissertation, edited the entire thing. AND. IT. WAS. DONE. And that one moment, that one fleeting moment when the bar for exporting a PDF copy was progressing, I felt just a little, teeny-weeny grown up than yesterday. It was like being puffed with a little breeze on a beach, I kid you not. I felt really good all day! And, I also got my dissertation hard bounded, and I felt ecstatic holding the eventual result of all my hard work, late nights, numerous books and articles, finally in my hand.   And, as to why #BlogMas2015 and #24DaysofWriting Well. It's how the cliché keeps making its rounds about how difficult it gets when you grow up and you have a mountain of things to accomplish in a day's time, and you perpetually forget about the things...

Helplessness.  It's hard to not be deafened by its inconspicuous screams. Shrill, hard, hurtful. When it touches someone, it ceases the soul. It renders, the unfortunate, inhumanly vulnerable. And sometimes, only sometimes, allows the white light to peep in. Imparting its only emotion to the one it strikes on, it never leaves. It sucks them out, feeds itself off them. Its presence starts to be felt in the gut, rising to your heart, increasing its beats, reaching out for your throat to squash it, wrangle it, and choke all your strengths and happiness down the drain. Those people with a frown on their heads, a doubt in their eyes, and a silent scream in their slightly opened mouth? Yes, them. They're the ones helplessness has been feeding off of. Nibbling at their coils, it spreads like termites in your body. You'll feel it. When immobility will dictate over you, and thinking of a way out will only burn those extra cells in your brain, you'll know it. You'll know ...

What am I doing here? What is everybody doing here? What if I'm the only actual human and the rest are my mind's projections? What if the world doesn't exist? What if we were manufactured out of a machine and hoisted upon a matrix mind device right after the machines spit us out? Okay, moment-of-crisis over. I keep wondering all the time if what I'm studying for, isn't what I'm supposed to be in life.What if I'm supposed to be a writer, and should've pursued English(Hons.), and spent my life writing and drinking coffee with a cigarette in my mouth, carrying expensive hand-crafted diaries with fountain pens holding onto its cover? What if I was destined to be a secret agent? Or, maybe a guitarist?  They say, we're born with a purpose to pursue, and it's up to us to figure it out. Often we're faced with multiple choices in life, and narrowing them down to one, when you love all of them, is a soul-crushing act. Well, Sanya once told me that...