Stop dreaming

There is a part of you that dreams. That part wants things it can’t have. It wants things out of your reach. For some it may be to find the unexpected waiting to happen, to step out and see that what they expected was only a shadow to the person that cast it. Their expectations will fall short. That part all of us think is the reason why. It’s the reason why we find strength to ask questions that may break us. It’s the reason why we cry alone sometimes. It’s also the reason why we smile. It’s the part of you that you think makes life worth living.

But there is a part of you that brings you back. Back to where you belong. When you thought maybe just maybe dreams exist for a reason. This part shows you dreams are just that dreams. They are illusions. Yes you may see glimpses of a few somewhere along the way. But they disappear when you try to hold on to them. People think this is the part of us that makes us ordinary. That it stops us from staring in wonder at the leaf falling from a tree, at the sun setting by the sea, at the tear rolling down a cheek. But all that part really does is it stops us from losing ourselves to a fantasy. It tells us don’t. Sometimes dreams may be misleading. You may not really want what you think you do. It is not wrong to get out when you can, because what looks like water in the hot desert sun might just be sand. So wake up. And stop dreaming.

But for that part to stay alive you need the one that dreams. You need to know what you think you want so that when something extraordinary happens you know it is bigger than all you dreamt of. Don’t hold on if you want to let go. But don’t let go because you think you want diamonds when all you get is a rose. Because that rose is the best there is. It is better than a thousand diamonds. If you can’t see the beauty of it then your reality can never be beautiful. Let go of those dreams, let reality be the only dream you have. There may be something better around the corner, but the thing about reality is it has thorns, it is cloaked, it is hiding. Only those who have dreamt right will find it. Because sometimes reality is better than your dreams could ever be.


A post of no nonsense.

This is what would happen if Edward Lear was to write feminist verses with not so much nonsense!

There was a young girl with spunk,
“you think you own me if you get me drunk,
You disgusting deluded fool.”
Said that young girl with spunk.

There was a woman from Germany,
Who had lovers so many,
She wished she didn’t have to be ashamed.
That wonderful woman from Germany.

There was once a girl on a harley,
She had more tattoos than skin,
Why did she have to spend nights with a monster called Charlie.
Asked the brave girl on a Harley.

There was a little girl from Rome,
She had blue eyes and a stubby nose,
“don’t wander far away from home.”
Thats what they told the chubby little girl from Rome.

There was a country girl so bold,
She loved her whiskey neat and beer ice cold.
She sat on that barstool and asked to be left alone,
That country girl so bold.

There was a mistress from Wales
Who asked everyone she met, “he says he loves me,
Why then to ask for my hand in marriage he fails?”,
That tormented mistress from Wales

There was a boy from Bombay,
His parents told me on his birthday,
They had dozen girls aborted to be blessed with him,
That golden boy from Bombay.

There was a girl from New York,
She walked alone at 10oclock,
They groped her and she tried to run,
That terrified girl from New York.

There was a man from Italy,
He woke up to a different woman everyday,
And every night beat up his wife,
That wicked man from Italy .

There was an actress from California,
They called her Mia,
He said the part was hers but for a price,
that agitated actress from California.

There was a waitress at a cafe,
They called out to her,
“hey hoe, come let’s play”
That distressed waitress at a cafe.

There once was a peaceful person
Who looks upon the world and her anger worsens
She hurts inside, and gets up to fight
That once peaceful person.


Learning to love, laugh and live.

A rainy day with flooded streets and wet to the bone. I left home to get here. The city gloomy and depressing welcomed me like a vulture welcoming death.

The clouds parted. And I lived. Like I never had before. A small town has streets with voices and every house has windows with eyes. But a city will go by not noticing how different you are. It thrives on the quirky.

But it is also alien to you. You don’t have your backyard, your morning tea, your bed just as you would like. You have instead a shanty to fill with love. And you have freedom to be who you chose. Freedom is a scary thing. But without it everything else is inconsequential.

There was so much I loved about it, the hustle bustle, nothing stopping for nothing, the life throbbing through its veins, it was alive. It taught me to walk with my head held high. It taught me to love myself. It taught me to stand up for myself. It made me feel alive. But like everything I loved back then I hated it as much as I loved it. It was everything I ever wanted but sometimes everything is not enough.

To hate a place like I hated that city. The stench of death, of rotting human souls. The sickness that enveloped everything like fog. I knew for the first time in my life what reality looks like. What it smells like. What it tastes like. And I didn’t like it. I wanted my cottage on a knoll, I wanted to sit by a river bank lazing in the shadow of an old elm tree. I wanted that cliff by the sea with no one around for miles. I wanted an uninhabited valley and snow capped mountains. Reality stung, like wasps, like sting rays. I wanted to run away, to hide, to disappear. But it found me and it clung to me like sapling to the soil. It fed on me till all I could see was the black in all shades of grey.

Tears. I woke up to them, I went to sleep with them.

Loneliness arises from within us. It consumes us unitil nothing is left of us. And we just stand by and watch. Not because we don’t want to be happy but because we simply can’t.

Then i came back home after five years. To the backyard, the tea, the bed just how I like it. And I still like it.

Why did you leave they ask me. We didn’t. We avoided all the pain. We stayed home. In our town, out cocoon. We were never waiting to die.

And I said I know what it feels like to want to die, but that feeling gives me the strength to live. It’s easy to live among familiar objects. The house you grew up in, the tyre swing, the view from your window. It is where your heart learnt to love, where it learnt to forgive, and where it learnt to hope. But when you leave those faces who pulled you up every time you fell. When you leave them behind on that road that takes you on. You find a new place where your heart breaks, where you sin and ask for forgiveness, where you know what is it to despair. For without those things we are incomplete. And only when you know what death feels like do you realise life is beautiful. I want those chilly nights so when I finally find the cabin in the woods with a hot meal on the table, I know I want to stay.

So no I don’t regret any of it. The sadness within me did not arise from a place. It was within me. Only I couldn’t hide from it there. And when I faced it and I fought it. And now when I smile I feel lighter, when I laugh my eyes light up. When I love I don’t do it because I need to feel loved but because I have love to give. So yes sometimes we have to fall, we have to live in darkness for only then do we learn to stand tall and move towards the light.