Freedom in flying

I’ve always had this dream of flying. I remember how I used to ponder how birds could fly with such freedom and swiftness when I was really young. The obsession with flying has remained. Ironically, I hate aeroplanes, probably because I like the concept of being in control and not being dictated by the constant fear I experience during flights. I think I’m drawn to the imagination of the soft breeze hitting my face, me singing loud amongst the hills and trees and the view that I would observe from hundreds of metres above the sky. It must have a deeper meaning to it and I’m sure it does. But I’m more focused on enjoying this beautiful childhood desire of mine rather than going into proper depths. I often watch birds, their flights, migrations and stuff like these on the internet. I am aware about how brutal and bloody the sky can be, and that there are strong battles in play. But just the thought of being able to fly is powerful enough to make me forget all those survival games up there.


Unjustified fear

I have this unjustified fear of those who know how to salvage everything. The architects also know how to cause havoc. They are the perfect destroyers who know about every faults and cracks in the structure. I feel like they have this power where you need to unconditionally trust them with everything. This, for me, is a scary concept; the fact that it’s always a matter of choice for them. Any moment they feel like they’re bored, any moment they snap, they can opt to stop being the good person they are and rip everything to shreds ~

The end

Don’t fall for words
Don’t get caught up
In lust and love
And all other dangerous games ~
Don’t befriend fantasies
And the impossibles
Because end is what awaits us all
Without any exceptions ~
Fall, rather, for this eternal darkness
That we all hate to embrace
Fall for truth
And you shall be salvaged ~


It’s a shame how we’ve always misunderstood our emotions. The things we wanted but were never prioritised have defined us. We have so much confusion in us. Love and hate have become synonyms. Loud silences have deafened us. We have become prisoners of our pasts. We have travelled with a hope of evading truths. We have failed to succeed, succeeded to fail. We’ve died multiple times wishing for reincarnation in a place where we belong. We’ve been repeating the same mistakes; trusting ourselves more than we should, worshipping people as heroes, escaping reality and wishing for the impossible ~


Life, I feel, is moving too fast for me right now. So many things happening but barely time to reflect on them. I don’t know if I’m the only one who’s been saving memories without properly assessing them. I haven’t thought properly about my life, about the deaths I’ve witnessed, about the hurt in me and my people, about family, about my career, about hobbies, about love and dangerous fantasies I always wished to come true. I’ve cut down my sleeping hours some days just so that I could walk through those memories and check how I feel about them. Life is about learning. Sometimes weeks fly by just doing things, without much thought of why and how I do it. As I sit beside this fire, I feel a bit more alive because this is the warmth I feel I rightfully deserve. I remember my mistakes, my achievements, my pain and my attempts to block those torments. This warm fire is like a proper hug that I probably need right now. Words don’t do justice sometimes. I am thinking of something distant, something unforseen but something very dear. Sarah Kay’s “Postcards” came to my mind in the middle of all this. There must be a reason why it popped in my head. It makes me happy, the way my words are so messed up, disorganised and without boundaries past midnight ~