Why, hello there

She lurches forward, right foot, left foot. The soil feels damp against her bare toes, sky blue and bare of clouds. It’s exhilarating, seeing the world so vast. Seeing the endless brown plains, how it stretches beyond the hills ahead. Suddenly everything feels small, she feels small. Still, she braves herself to continue onwards, step by step. One step, leaving her problems behind. Another step, leaving her past behind. Another step, and another. Until no one can see her anymore. ___________________________________________________________________________________ Greetings, folks.  It's been a while since I last posted something here. That little paragraph just now was something I wrote when I was feeling lost to the world, when I felt so small and when it felt so easy to just vanish. How it would feel so wonderful to just let myself go and forget about everything.  Well, time flows and things changed. I've learned new things and my worldview has changed so much. I've met a

Hello there. Have you guys been productive these past days? No? That's okay, but I have. I went to the library for two days in a row (which is shocking, to be honest). As I was sitting by the window of the library yesterday, I tried to study. I really did. But, there were moments where my eyes just kind of wander off to the view outside, where people were just walking back and fro. After almost 10 minutes of staring, I noticed some kind of pattern among the little humans down there. The international students were talking with each other (albeit loud, mind you, I could hear them even from level 4 of the library). But, interestingly, most of the local students were walking with their noses in their phones, with no regards of their surroundings. It kind of reminds me of when a group of old friends gather for a 'reunion', but end up sitting at a table together, with heads bend down, just to play with their phones. As I continued to daydream, I thought to myself, is tha

Hello there. A question for you guys, you know how humans are actually slaves of the mind? No? Yes? Maybe? Well, here's what I think. I don't think we actually have full control over ourselves. But, the mind. Ooh lala , the mind is something else. It sometimes do things on its own, things that the heart does not want. Well, here's a little something-something about the magnificent mind that I thought of yesterday while waiting for my drink (nescafe hazelnut; it's really good you should try it) to cool down. _________________________________________________________________________________ How powerful the mind is. How we feel things that do not exist, things that do not make an ounce of sense. How it can paint a beautiful picture of the reality. How it gives joy, even for just a while. But with the great power, it also destroys us. By tainting static serene images with red, creating bloody scenes that won't go away for weeks. The river of red flows insid

Hello there. I remember one day I had a dream about this large burrito thingy looming over my bed, demanding for my money that I had in my moneybox. Thus, to commemorate the surrendering of my wealth to this strange burrito entity, I had decided to write a short story about the whole ordeal. But, being an easily-distracted-human, I decided that I was too lazy thus making this as a prompt instead. Maybe I'll come back here in the future and write a full-on story on the burrito god. Who knows?  Disclaimer: this prompt is in no way promoting shirk or any burrito religion. _________________________________________________________________________________ I woke up with a start, a growl threatening to emerge from the back of my throat as the blinding sunlight peeking from between the curtains hit my face with such ferocity as if saying—WAKE UP, YOU LAZY GIRL. It WAS Sunday after all, a girl needs her beauty sleep, right? “Emily, wake up! Its already half past noon, for God’s sake

Poof! (note that I have just poof-ed and emerged from thin air)  Why, hello there.  Below you will find a poem that I had just written 2 days ago. This is a not-so-adequate-but-meh-it-is-okay-enough representation of one of the oldest thoughts that had been crawling in my mind since as long as I can remember. Since I was 16 years old? 13 years old? Heck,  since I was in primary school, even. Never felt belonged, no matter where I went to. Questions like ' Who am I? ', ' Why are   they talking to me? ', ' Why are they not talking to me?'  or ' Is this my place? ' could be quite overwhelming for a mere 12 year-old-girl.  I've never been good with words, at least orally. Finally coming to the age of 20, I figure that I should be able to put these thoughts into something, you know? Something readable, understandable. So, yeah, here you go. I float around Like ghosts at Maghrib, I stop by places leaving breadcrumbs Just like Jack and J