Warrior

 If the walls could talk What language would it speak? Would it speak the language of love? Language of joy? Of eternal bliss or language of light? Would it speak of only the good, Would the bad be included? Then I begin to think back, upon the seconds, the minutes, the hours, the days, the weeks, the years of when my walls, the years of when my walls were the ears and eyes. If my walls could talk, what language would it speak? Would it speak of the language of darkness? The sleepless nights spent crying? The nights and days that I bled? Would it talk how cold it was? How they witnesses me breaking down and crumbling? Would it share the times only silence came? Of the days only pills worked best? The days each cigarettes inhaled and puffed, to numb the voices that came from each corner? Would they speak of times I punched them. The screams that I let out and tears shed? Would they talk about that little girl, who tried but never enough? If my walls could talk, I'd forced them to st...

 I sat there, on that bench, with a cat on my lap. Papers were sprawled on the table ; I was doing some revision -- or so I thought. There were so many notes from lectures, but somehow I couldn't devour the pages of written words. My mind was wondering somewhere else.Now, where did my mind go? It went back to those days. It may have been a decade after that remark happened, but it's etched deep inside my mind. It's stuck, like a parasite. Eating me slowly, and somehow I did not see it. I thought it was just a normal kind of memory to have. It was just a part of growing up, but... The pain didn't go away. I still feel the pain, It's as though it happened just yesterday. To others, it may not be a problem, but it's a problem for me. I let that remark drenched me in the tears of agony.  What happened that make me hard to forget? It was just a harsh remark from a teacher, and the disappearance of friends and support was gone in a split of time. Losing so many people...

As I watched my little nephew (the second child of my older sister) grow, I began to think about how slowly life goes on and without our knowing, time ages us. Have you heard Adele's song : When We Were Young? That song always remind me of the times I lost , the times I wasted. My youth and adolescent life has long gone, and I am in my half a century. Still a young adult trying to figure out what's my role in my lifetime. Am I someone who withdraws, or someone who can make some change in this world? May it be a small change, I want to be one of the role to be beneficial for the people around me. I remember one teacher that changed my view of life and a few hopes that I can do and take for this life. I learnt to be someone who cares and someone who grasp compassion tightly. Funny that I can describe what I want or what I see now, for words (written as it is) has finally failed me. I haven't written for ages, and today I feel it the need to write (type that is!). ...