Dream, Dream a Little More

Future. Wasn’t it supposed to be an abstract idea? Something full of hopes and dreams and all the rosy promises. Having a dream was enough. Like, yeah, I’m going to be a writer with shit loads of money or own a magical chocolate factory with my personal little orange people work-force and have a house with a room just for books and an Olympic sized swimming pool and maybe, John O’ Callaghan as my husband. When all the little girls my age were dreaming of being the future Miss Universe, I was hoping I’d be a space scientist and finally figure out what lies in the vast emptiness beyond the skies. I wanted to be a fashion designer, an artist, a singer (so what if I can’t sing?), a dancer. I wanted to be a tattoo artist. I wanted to invent something cool and have my picture in Physics books of the future for my great-great-great-great-great kids to draw moustaches on.  I wanted to be everything I could be and more. I wanted to be anything but ordinary. I swear, I had the perfectly clear idea of my future. I knew what I wanted to be, who I wanted to be. I swear. Until, now.

And now, when I need them the most, my dreams desert me. All those crazy, possibly impossible dreams. Right when the time to work on them is here. Right when the future waits for me, in all its uncertain glory. It’s waiting for me to make my move. So, what do I do now?

I write a stupid blog post about it. I laugh for no reason at all. I get mad at people for pointing out the obvious mistakes I know I’m making, and I love them for pointing it out anyways.  I crib to everyone I know about how my life sucks and be glad that those people are in my life to listen to my crap. I listen to music and dance while I solve shit loads math problems.

I work, and I work hard. I dream and I dream a little more. I hope and I give it all I’ve got.

 

Colour

A touch of red, fiery wrath of a father scorn’d.
A hint of green, fresh and rejuvenating scent of the wild.
A shade of yellow, the warmth of the fire on a cold night.
A drop of blue, the gloom, the sadness, unwanted yet inevitable.
A deep brown, the eyes of a lover, filled with words, unsaid.
A lovely mauve, the sweet smell of belonging, of everything, of nothing.
A rosy pink of a mother’s lips, like petals of an exquisite flower, kissing her newborn.
A little orange, spilled across the dusky, twilit sky.
A sliver of grey, the clouds, laden with rain.
The black darkness of death.
The white light of life.

A Question

I’ve been wondering and I still haven’t reached a conclusion yet so I have a question for you all -

Would you prefer to know the precise date and time of your death or not?

While on one hand, if you knew when you’re going to die, you could bid your loved ones goodbye and do everything on your bucket list before you finally kick your bucket, on the other hand, the knowledge can as well turn out to be a burden. If you knew when you are going to die, it can turn into an obsession, a sort of count down to your inevitable end, to the point where you lose sight of what’s important, that is, living the life that you have left.

What do you think?

When I Was A Little Girl

When I was a little girl, I was told that all the things in life could be classified as either right or wrong. I was taught how to do that and I was told specifically to pick the right ones. I was brought up to believe that if I did all the ‘right’ things, my life would fall into place and everything will be alright. But now I’m not sure. I’m starting to think the line that divides the right and the wrong doesn’t really exist.

When I was a little girl I used to believe there were only two kinds of people, good and bad. But now I’m starting to figure out how people have so many layers to them and so many shades of all kinds of traits. No one’s perfect and I guess, that’s okay.

When I was a little girl, I was made to believe we could only love once. Maybe, I just watched too many movies or maybe, I read too many fairytales. Or maybe even listened to too many love songs. I believed that when I met my knight in shining armour, my life would get cheesy background songs automatically and everything would be magical. But now, I’m not so sure if that’s how love works. You can love more than one person at once or maybe no one at all. It’s pretty mundane and ordinary and at the same time pretty magical too.

When I was a little girl, all the adults seemed to have all the knowledge in the world. They had everything figured out, how people became stars when they died, how the rain was just God watering his plants in heaven, how clouds were just pieces of cotton the wind blew away. And now I stand on the thresh-hold of adulthood and I’m starting to worry that adults are as clueless as we once were and still are.

When I was a little girl, what frock should I put on was one of the most difficult decisions I had to take. Now, I’m faced with all the choices that’ll decide how my future turns out to be and I’m feeling lost.

Can I please just be a little girl again?

Other Side of The Moon

Have you had moments where every little thing bugs the fuck out of you? When every thing suddenly seems pointless and you just want to scream out at the top of your voice? When every thing you do is some how not even close to good enough? When you want to put your thoughts into on paper but you can’t find the right words? When everyone seems to be hell-bent on pointing at your flaws and you don’t even want to fight their doubts because somewhere in your mind, you’re feeling the same? Ever feel like you’ve been walking for days to realise you’ve been going in circles? Ever felt like you know what is to be done but you can find neither the strength nor the will to do it? Ever feel like you’re this close to giving up but you’re not ready to let go of your dreams just yet?

Have you ever wanted to take a leap, wanting to believe you can fly but haven’t for the fear of falling? Have you ever felt like a volcano that’s been dormant for so long that people have forgotten that it can actually explode any moment?
Have you ever felt like writing a blog post and giving it a name that’s completely irrelevant with respect to its contents, like this one? Have you ever wondered what would life be like if you were not you but somebody else?

Do you ever hate the people you’re supposed to love and love the ones you’re supposed hate? Do you thank the universe for the people in your life even though they annoy the fuck out of you?

Have you ever felt like a plastic bag, like that Katy Perry song? Have you ever wanted to cry for no reason at all? Have you ever wanted to laugh for no reason at all? Have you ever felt like you’ve been running after all the wrong things?

I have.

Mirror

If I was a mirror, I’d be convex because then I could show the people that they all look pretty funny to me. Because I like to look at the bigger picture. Because I like to believe that the good things and happy times are always closer than they appear.

What kind would you be, if you were a mirror?

Love,
Signet

Shut up, I’m ranting.

It’s been a while since wrote a silly ‘let me just rant about stuff no one cares about’ post, isn’t it? Well, here I am to give you all live updates about my extremely mundane and ordinary life. -drum rolls-

Actually, I just felt the urge to write. Write nothing, something. I don’t really know why I’m here and what I’ll write about. I’m just here because I am and I’ll let my fingers run wild on this keyboard, hoping it makes sense. To me, to you. I usually don’t like having no goal, no direction but sometimes, you just got to go with the flow, right?

This thing is, I’m feeling weird. Confused, shocked, sad, amused, a little useless and a billion other words which can not completely describe my state of mind. Maybe even a little insane. But that’s okay, because that’s what being young is all about, isn’t it? Being confused and trying to find the meaning of all the little things that make up our life what it is. I bet the grown ups are just as clueless as us, they just keep a straight face for our sake and theirs. I guess I’ll just have to wait a few more years to find out for myself. By ‘a few more years’ I mean ‘lots and lots of more years’ because I don’t think I’ll ever grow up into a sane adult person.

That reminds me; I’ll be in twelfth grade in a fortnight’s time. I’m so, I don’t know if there’s a word for it, somewhere between excited and scared. On one hand, I look forward to whatever comes next but on the other hand, I don’t want to grow up. Now, I know twelfth grade is not exactly ‘grown up’ but it’s not exactly ‘fuck the world, I’m having fun’ year too. I’ll have to put in all I’ve got because I’m also preparing for engineering entrance exams. I’m scared all my hard work won’t pay off. I’m scared I won’t work hard enough. See, I’ve never been a hard worker. I’m more of a ‘learn at the last minute and still ace the test’ kind of girl. At least I was till the tenth grade. The point is, I’m scared of the future.

Future’s weird, you know. You don’t even know if you have one. You never know what’s the last thing you’ll do. Maybe this is the last post I ever type or the last one you ever read. And that scares the shit out of me. The things, they keep changing. The people, they keep leaving. I’m lucky, I guess, to be alive and have the people I love with me, at least in this moment.

Anyways, what I was wondering yesterday is, how do we know the colours we see are exactly how the other people see them? We were born with our eyes, so we’ve never seen the world through anyone else’s eyes. That means you can’t be really sure if the green you see is not anyone else’s blue. The sky is blue but maybe your blue is someone else’s red, it’s just that they call red as blue. Does that make sense? I don’t know. The point I’m trying to make is, you just need to see the world a little differently and also I’m crazy, so don’t listen to me. And you are too, if you are still reading this.

On that note, I should probably shut up, but I shall leave you with a question. What are three things you wish you could tell some one but haven’t had the courage to? 

Lots of love,

Signet