The days. Flying by ever so fast yet the pain of confusion wears away slowly. Comparing the fast paced life with the soft and unhealed wounds of yesterday seemingly contradict each other. One is a wind that cannot be caught and the other a dream delved into every second. Though, I must say, this is what makes everything so beautiful. The ability to put yourself in the spotlight, exposed to the potential failure and harm, but still persevering and taking the chance. When all that matters is to win and be a part of expectations, the true essence is missed out upon. Confusion. That's what remains. To satisfy all is not an option, but to do good for all is an aim worth fighting for. Left alone on my own, the great world my critic, my young and flustered self a victim almost. A victim. Victim to what? Answerable to who? Wronged which aspect of life? I am my own victim. With the great exposure to opportunities comes the great threat of failure. A woman of color with a headscarf, two st...
Peace isn't when war ends. The war ends when peace prevails. It is our alter ego that resents us from the truth, forcing us to believe that we lack the control of being able to initiate peace amongst ourselves. However this inner discomfort shall remain embered until we are able to find the serenity within us that can calm the fight that lies within. We solely have the power to decide how we wish to continue our life. Although not all the variables in life remain in our hands, it is our mentality towards the way in which we respond that allows the prevalence of inner happiness. Our minds remain trapped until our hearts are able to speak and fend for the truth. Why should we not allow ourselves to chase after the happiness we yearn? Yes, patience is a virtue and good things come to those who wait, however it is our choice, our ability, to search for that which is needed to calm the raging fight. The mind does not control the soul, until the soul agrees to be enslaved by the mind. Le...
Trapped in a moment of overwhelming responsibilities, I sit here confused yet calm. To escape, I assume. Writing is my path of walk when there is no other step so comforting and relaxing. One task, then another, accumulating endlessly until there is no eye to see the world beyond. Almost inescapable. Almost, but not quite. I guess it is at times as such when one begins pondering the depths of life. Is this purely just a matter of intrigue or perhaps another face of procrastination? Nonetheless, it's a time of great thought, probably the best self advice comes when there are numerous things impending at my mind. And here, I will attempt to organise my unkempt thoughts into fathomable words, my mind seeping through nothing but an arrangement letters. Tonight. A time I had not imagined yet a time that is nearing too fast. Potential fear? Or maybe just uncertainty. I do not know. There is however an undeniable and painstakingly constant reality rushing to make a grand entrance. I co...
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