The moment you start to speak and understand the meaning of words, everyone you know will ask about what you want to be or what your purpose in life is at least once.
If you’re anything like me, then that means you don’t know the answer to the said question, and people look at you weirdly when you tell them that. Especially those who are older than you.
Although I understand the concern or rather, curiosity, living passionately or not is a choice, not an obligation. Here are why.
Trying to find the purpose of my life led me to…
The voices are muffled
and my heart is heavy.
No matter how fast I run,
It always catches up to me.
Lurking in the shadows,
Hiding in the crevices,
Silently waiting for a sign,
to break me into more pieces.
Is this what growing up feels like?
Shattering my own reflection,
As doubt holds me in place.
Making myself accountable
for things I can’t control.
Wishing for another year
But when it’s a grasp away,
The yips knocked on my feet.
So, I whispered to many ears,
With the hopes of a little warmth.
They said I’ll do wonders,
And some screamed advice,
I remember the first thing I lost
It was a stuffed puppy
My first ever birthday gift
In a foreign school, I just moved in
No one noticed it disappearing
Until a few years after
My cousins fling it around my face
And I demanded it back.
What comes second was a friend
She was my partner in crime
We laughed, danced, and mimed
Separated at the tender age of seven
We lost each other forever
She was there
and she vanished before I knew it
Were we even granted a farewell?
A year went by
And I learned to stop…
You’re alone again in your bedroom. Mind seemingly blank.
So your mind decides to overwhelm you with thoughts, rendering you to start overthinking about even the simplest thing it can come up with.
Before you know it, you’re now worried about whether you have enough income to cover your monthly expenses, and whether you’re living a good enough life, or whether you’ll ever find the one.
Your thoughts are stopping you from acknowledging the present and the current event going on in your life. The what-ifs are blinding you from the good things you most likely own.
I was 8 years old when I excitedly said to my dad, “Dad I liked a boy in my class! Can you guess who it is?”
I don’t remember his reply, but I could never forget his disinterested look. “I don’t care” was written all over his face.
That was the first time I started retrieving into my invisible shell.
I didn’t understand the concept of being too tired because of work, and what the hell is monkey love? How should I know that a kid’s crush is something that adults couldn’t care less about?
All I know was that…
My parents kept me from children who are brown
The violence and bloodshed were to blame
In the war of killing disparities
Created by hundreds white colonists.
I am trained to be loyal only to my kind.
My parents kept me from painting my love
It’s the small actions that matter they said
It was how they were loved
and how I learned to love.
But it has cost me my dearest ones.
My parents kept me from revealing too much
No, that’s too short was their mantra
They fear the disgusting hands of the dry
Keeping them from touching their bud.
It’s one of those rare days again: You wake up in joy, thinking that it’s gonna be a good day. For once, you’re ready to face another day.
But just as you step out of your house, your car decides to break down, taxis are nowhere to be found, all your colleagues are irritable, and for some unknown reason, everything and everyone is determined to annoy the hell out of you.
We all know how miserable it is to feel the drop from being high on energy to cursing ourselves for expecting a smooth day. …
You’ve made another mistake and crashed again, spiraling down into another dark place. It got you thinking of your past slip-ups, reminding you of how much of a failure you are.
Once again, you feel miserable.
Things are not going to plan, and I get it.
I don’t like comparing, but if it makes you feel any better, I spent the last 5 days lying in bed all day doing nothing. I was disappointed at how far I’ve come, which is not very far.
Wasting 120 hours of my life to just lay down proves my failure even more.
I wanna be happier, but it’s dark
The abyss can’t afford to show light
It’s too busy hiding the streets
And even the sun knows it
But it gives nothing short of a hug,
Killing my courage to leave
I wanna be happier, but it’s muffled
No matter where I turn,
The sound of support is a bee
It’s pushing through to find me
But the air surrounding me is stronger,
Intensifying my loneliness
I wanna be happier, but it’s sly
The fox knows after all,
Where to go to curb the light
And how to use my intruding thoughts
But it’s also cruel,
I used to believe that Paris is beautiful because it’s the city of love, the same way a Vanessa will always be more attractive than a Laura. It’s just meant to be that way.
But I was wrong. A city or a person cannot be attractive just because.
Some might have a little of an advantage in terms of origin. But studying one of the most attractive cities in the world has led me to a discovery.
The secret to being attractive is more about knowing what is attractive in the humans’ eyes and making those qualities authentically yours.