Bohemian Ray of Sunshine

Midnight thoughts are a weird thing. But she liked them- she was made that way. People call it overthinking but she thought they were fantasies. She believed that, 'just because its a fantasy doesn't necessarily mean it's unreal'. She was born to see beauty even in the ugliest things. She's different- she has always been. It's like though she has eyes like everybody else - chocolaty brown- but she's the only person whom i met, sees everything differently. The corners of her eyes would wrinkle and would make her eyes vanish into a thin line. I'm jealous of her dimples. Those soft, faint on her left cheek. She would mimic Miguel from Coco pointing her right cheek then left, to and fro- " Dimple, Dimple Gone. Dimple, Dimple Gone." It's impossible to not be cheerful around her. She won't make eye contact with anyone but when she does, she mean it.  She chooses to see souls of only a few people, and she proves that eyes are for sure the gate...

read along music- Maybe Don't by Maise Peters- Acoustic Version // I'm too scared of my own mediocrity. I don't dance for I'm not kyle hanagami, i don't write songs for I'm not as good as taylor, I don't run for i think my sides will hurt, I don't talk and share what I feel for ppl might misunderstand me. i don't sing for I'm not good at it. I don't be myself, what if ppl think I'm weird and crazy? I don't make vids coz I don't know much of it. I don't vent for I'm in an illusion of breaking my own reputation. I don't write what I want for I'm too insecure. I don't play chess for I don't want to make a fool of myself. I run from the things I want the most. I (we) have forgotten to do more of things which i actually love. So, there's this FORCE constantly reminding me to sing at the top of my longs even i sound off, to dance as if nobody's watching even if i keep on stumbling, to confess even if my v...

I like obsessed kind of people. Have you ever seen the way their eyes sparkle like a lake under moon light, as if the whole universe resides in those pupils. They hold their obsession within themselves as if it's that precious little thing without which their life would have been void- like when they get an opportunity, they can't stop blabbering. That gLoW - which starts radiating all of a sudden when they start talking about the things they love- omg that halo light on their face, the way it turns pink- the way corner of their eyes get wrinkled and that enormous attention which they give you- as if all of their life is in that cute little obsession, in that book, in that paint brush, in that music, that Taylor's Evermore album, that bike, in muses of Bukowski, etc.  Whenever I see Dante- I see a boy who's obsessed with Ari, who keep sketches under his mattress, who read poetry books, who make effortless strokes in water and kisses his parents on their cheek. And Ari...

Ok wait, hear me out. Before reading ahead, tell me do you want to have a better experience? I know you want, so pause- take a deep breath *take take*, one more and switch to Spotify or whatever music platform you use and play the music - "Warm Light by Peder B. Helland" in the background. *c'mon trust me and do whatever I'm saying*. Ok now you are ready. You may continue reading. I hope the music fits with this prose. *fingers crossed*  :) I held the bits and pieces of whatever I had and tried to put them together hoping they would all complement and complete the puzzle of my indecisiveness but they never made sense. Like a senseless little earthling I roamed here and there, from the colours of blue and white snowy winter , to magenta and rich orange of dusk, I paced out from smoky black into the lemonade yellow on summer noons, all I knew I had to keep on moving, so I moved. I moved from the starry nights, inventing my own constellations of fantasy making sure I hid...

Somtimes I don't understand how to express what I'm feeling, not to say that I'm not good at words, it's like...well...maybe we don't get words because it was not meant to express, it was meant to stay inside that four chambered sweet dwelling of yours. We are almost in the midst of September and I can feel the chilling wind piercing my skin, biting my bones and sadly I don't want to let go of my forest printed cotton shorts. *cries in the corner holding them* It will take me quite some time to get used to nylon lowers, into which whenever I flex my legs, my hairs stand like porcupines. Sadly my mommy will soon bury my favourite shorts along with other cotton clothes into a bag and hide them in the deepest darkest corner of our store room or cupboard. In the next summer, I can predict myself getting delighted at the sight of my old forest printed shorts only to realise it has become even shorter after completing its hibernation in the storeroom throughout the wi...

Ok fine then.  I'll leave you for you wished it but then don't go on saying any further that, "Good people don't exist". They do exist, you just didn't have those frequency and eyes to look beyond your own fears, dear. It's all within you darling, what you have is what you see outside of yourself. Ok, I get it what you're going through but just don't shut yourself in that deep caves of hell while fighting your demons that you forget what colour ray of sunshine beamed. I hope you somewhere you still remember the warmth of sun on your skin in those stinking algae, dark and lonely hollows of yourself. I tried but I can't force you to vomit the shit out so I hope you take your time healing it.  I won't tell you that I'm too sensitive to people's emotions that I end up crying even while watching an action film. It's not just you, I've seen many even worse than you, covered with gaping wounds with fresh flesh hanging out, sunken i...