No mid life crisis here

I have been so lost lately, I just don't know where to turn but this blog. It's a given that loneliness follows when your interests conflict with that of the crowd, but its' kind of hard to avoid that you're human and that you'd rebound to delve into humanly needs. For instance, having the right people for the right kind of conversations.

I also have lately changed my reading habits, I am juggling to three books at a time ( prior to my one book at one time oath), completely blank out when I hold my pen to write, having rice sprinkled with lemon juice on it (don't even bother asking), and all I dream for breakfast, lunch and dinner is chocolate. Is this what they call mid-life crisis? No! It's just a normal next door girls' normal rant. I just called my self normal... I do need a check-up. See what I mean by not doing so well?

I am constantly looking for inspiration, I often dream about my late grandfather and his stories and wish profoundly he'd be here to tell me more. I wish to dream extravagantly again, because day dreaming is all but a dead end these days. The only saving graces of my life are perhaps these books,my blog and studies. Which shouldn't be bad,  but adventurous soul seek adventurous terrains. And conquering the same land over again loses its charm eventually.

The maybe-s are killing. I need to step my game up here.

Sins and fear.

The monsters fed on the silence,
for the voices of logic were too catastrophic.

The fear that kept quite for the sins to go louder,
leading me my surrender,
ready to burn through my eyes,
a display of evil, I birthed with my first few lies.

I think my fears are coming alive,
taunting me, itching my skin from the inside,
taunting me - for they lived inside all along,
and I was ignorant, not wise.

And we know how the ignorant end:
eaten up... alive.

From school,college to university : The build up of classism.

As illogical as it may sound, education where it should be a force to eradicate class difference does more to solidify it.

 You attend school, as young naive kids, and that point you're least judgemental. Thus clearing the notion of attitudes being groomed and bred, and not natural in its raw form. Then onwards, we are at the edge of clearing school and entering college, at which point you're still evaluating people on the basis of general attributes, scaling in on the judicial scales lightly, the good,bad and the grey. Its when you enter a more materialistic life; when your outfits matters, when social judgement stands more important than ethical judgement. It's then we build in these deceitful and downright erroneous theories of class having an impact on our perceived 'esteemed way of life'.

It is here I end up questioning a lot of standards we swiftly abide to, without so much so giving it a second thought.


My eyelids felt heavy, opening only to be closed again by the scorching white light. They didn't burn, for even after subsiding in pauses, journeying but softly from my irises to the brain, the light felt different, almost welcoming. It was taking me over whilst my eye lids battled and batted rapidly until it felt at one with me. From then, the brain to my toe nails, it had consumed me. Once conscious, I saw what was ahead me - pitch whiteness.

I could not feel myself, just that I was there, a presence. I was neither flying nor was I detached from my body, it was somewhere between the two. Perhaps afloat? Slowly at first but at one with my thoughts the light began to fade, as I fused words, then sentences to make sense. I wonder if I was really making any. Although the light had soothed down outside, it was still caressing me gently on the inside, as if in no hurry to leave. 

Royalty dawned me. My hair flowing, long and warming, partly covered with something, I say something and not cloth cause it felt like a mere layer of air. Also, I was wearing a gown. A magnificent one. I couldn't see it, for only my sense of sight was focused; the rest of my body still there, I guessed more than hoped , my gaze too transfixed on what lay beyond to give my self a good look. For that second, I felt I was only my eyes, the rest of me 'organ-less'. I couldn't even then help but ponder still over my attire. It was loose, but firm enough as skin naturally I know to be - never discomforting but ours and protective. I must have looked beautiful, I knew it more than just a guess.

The colour purple emerged, deep dark purple that is. And with the emergence of it I felt life.


The black around the violet so gentle, soothing the atmosphere. I pause to think why black often is associated with wickedness, when in all honesty its just a colour like any other, in fact so chaste of all impurities. It is the presence of darkness that shows you the right path out of many, without it its all but a maze.

Tenderly before my eyes the purple restrain to channel a pathway and with that I start to feel my feet - each nerve of it flourishing as softly as young petals of a rose. My nerves on my feet alive yet gaze transfixed on what seems like horses, I think, striding out of thin air. They are so white against the darkness, just two of them, that a grey outlining forms bordering their bodies ,giving a feel of self emitted energy, except that their riders, caped in black but a shade that set them well apart contained the energy well. They were neither good nor bad, they were just - creatures. Their shape was so human like , yet nothing in me wanted to discover them any more than they were as in front of my eyes. God knows they felt distant and for good, not posing any threat neither interest.