All posts filed under: thoughts

a mind split into uncountable fragments, thinking of everything and anything in infinite instances 🌌

to my dream

The truth hurts worse than anything I could bring myself to do. Oh, dream schools. I made this weird promise to myself. I held this weird sort of belief. If you take enough time to think when your minds are in that chaotic dearth, you see the sky clear again. You see the world rise once more. You see beauty against pain, reason to triumph over conflict, the light cascading and piercing through—symbolic of hope: in good mornings, fully-rested naps in the middle of the night, good food and the extra pound or two post-buffet, your heart tumbling, twirling, and fighting after the climax of a movie you’ve seen over and over, teenage freedom and believing that you are in love. What I mean to say is, there are many feelings that we believe are pristine and pure. Convincing ourselves these are unique sensations, looking forward to moments of happiness and sense in an otherwise bland and decrepit world. These are innocent reasons for our being, which I firmly believe are the ones that drive …

reasons why i have begun to let the sun set

I’ve always clouded my thoughts. I drown them in verbose descriptions of pedantic moments and scenarios. Little murmurs in time that mean nothing to be but late-night visions and blurs that make me shudder in fear for what I had left behind. Every thought here existed in time, even for just a moment. I relay my fears onto drunken rants with the computer screen rather than eye-to-eye. That’s how I was raised, after all. A child of blinking lights and the whirring of fan blades. I. Love is a fucking farce. And I am endlessly contriving new reasons as to why it is.

the deafening of a heartbeat.

ie: something that we have come to be familiar with in so many ways. We are used to the dawning of hope, inceptions of promise — something bland and stupid like love or things that last. Let me tell you that we have seen little bits and pieces of the end, captured the procurement of nihilism and antagonistic self-hatred. We are the beginning of the end, in the stories that should have never been told. i. in the coffee shop. her name is scrawled on, it is generic and placid — just as the life that is reaming within the lines of creamer. her order was taken wrong but she doesn’t say anything against it; the apron-donned mass serves it with apathy, accent ridden from the dwellings of a hundred miles over. stir, the window is tinged with a hue of emerald. stir, the marbling of the floor reminds her of the corner tile she had grown to memorize in her mother’s home. stir, the eyes of the lone student in the corner are as brown …

a self-orchestrated, half-drunken ramble towards demise

when i was a kid i used to pray every single night. it went something like this: in the name of the father and of the son and of the holy spirit, god i love everything. i love all the galaxy and the universes and the stars and the sun and the moon and the planets and the earth and the clouds and the rain and the trees and the dogs and the rollercoasters and the books and the oceans and the sea and the lighthouses and all the food and the people who make the food and the dust and the grass and the rice and the eggs and the houses and the doors and the beds and my grandfather and my grandmother and my yaya and my cousins and mommy and my daddy and my sister and myself. bless us all. i am sorry for everything bad i have done, please help me get better always since i love getting better. i love the world i want to be better. please help me. …

im probably not good at anything but memorizing song lyrics it’s scary once they can really be applied to your life i try and understand experiences and walk in footsteps of people who i have never met, people who ripped out their past for money and fame and an apartment in the middle of the city where they can lie to themselves about what feels like living i’ll never understand until i experience the words. twist overanalyzed wishes when they were just stories and games one day i swore id write my own. be a poet for the masses. the song you hum at the corner of the pew while you pretend to believe in all there is no more sorrys. i understand why people write music. i understand that we are all one and the same. if you know youre wrong why dont you just say it and if you want to sing why pretend that you would do it for me and if on that day the beating sun scorched us and warned …

Five Films

After being given a miraculous one-week term break with no reason behind it whatsoever (and the rest of the school reporting regularly while my batch’s sanctity was saved), it was cue to spend the days making up for the sleep-deprivation and coffee-fueled chaotic days, with of course — self-productivity and amazing films. Here’s a short post on five films that I had really enjoyed and would like to share — I highly recommend each of these, adored different parts of them and saw more than just an average drama in them.

Effete

When the parents of my batch first gleefully announced a mandatory career talk, I marched my way onto the fourth and final classroom of the day. Another Saturday stripped away from us with the promise of a better future. After hearing repeats of things that I have heard over and over again (yes – med school is incredibly difficult but rewarding, no, I am not really going to tell you how I got there but instead let me flash you pictures of my astounding achievements) perhaps the very last class would prove itself different.

day 1-4; Inner Mongolia

I visited Inner Mongolia at the end of July to participate in a Robotics competition. Aside from the sleepless nights, team huddled together in a hotel room with the scent of soldering and endless talking until the words seem to get so muffled and lost, unable to understand anything and everything – realizing we take language for granted — it was beautiful. Waking up every single day to a beating sun that reminded one of home only to be swept with a foreign breeze that was far too cold to be named familiar.

Sunlight

Normally, I would begin this with talking about exhaustion. My deflating belief in the world and everything within; every single moment, every single person, every single heart that roams across this planet. That is a lie, however. Beyond it all, there is always the underlying sense of the fact that: I know this world can do it. We are made of tearstains of fight, of the galaxies and beginnings, of lies and the end; but for now we will keep on living. I am set to leave on a flight for a robotics competition in less than twelve hours. The airport anxiety never ceases to get to me — and the perplexing situation that I am in is further giving way to my unwaning fears. This is set to be for a robotics competition held in Inner Mongolia – an inner district in Ulanqab/Wulanchabu. Maybe it is how used I am to seeing information and details in the grasp of my hand within a few mere moments; but there is literally no information available towards …