After Awhile.

After awhile you learn the difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul.
I read that once somewhere.
It’s been awhile since I’ve had words to share.
But life, as is so often the case is life and sometimes things get hard.

Have you ever poured your heart out and have someone just say, ‘Man, that’s too deep.’
Can I ask you to never be around people that make you want to apologize for your emotions?
Please, don’t try to understand them.
Their incomprehensible mediocrity will be the death of your soul.
You are so bright, they need to shield their eyes.
Please, don’t shine for the wrong people.

Have you ever that feeling of loneliness, that utter sense of being lost?
Can I ask you to leave this place,these people for something better, someplace where you find peace?
Please, my darling, you deserve it.

And I hope you hold your head up high.
I hope you learn to dance with the wind.
May the stars be your crown.
And the moon,your lover.

And this I can promise you,
Every time you hurt, you will heal.
And I, I will be there for you.
Always.

Story of my Internship: Novotel

She’s finally here. Readers, if you remember my post on Industrial Training- A love-hate story ( http://wp.me/p2tFPc-6f), well here’s her’s. Go read. It’s good.

Baking and Randomness

“Industrial training”: Two words that could send a shiver up my spine, back in my first year at college.

When I first began studying hospitality in 2012, I was perfectly aware of what I was getting into. I knew the subjects, I had a glimpse of what my life would be like in the near future and despite the lingering doubts in my family and friend’s minds, I was confident and I couldn’t wait to start college.
I have to add, that somehow, I had also happily made peace with the fact that following this profession would deem my social life non-existent (A notion I otherwise would have considered absolutely unthinkable)!

The only fear at the back of my mind was the semester where I was supposed to work in the industry, at a five-star hotel. The hospitality industry can be a very unforgiving place and one requires a lot…

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In silence we weep.

In silence she wept
Tears of restraint
Of shattered control,
Of the pieces broken.
In silence she wept,
Tears of fear.
For loss.
For ache.
In silence she wept,
‘It’s cold here’ she whispered.
‘It’s kinda lonely’ she murmured.
‘It’s sad’ she said.
And for the lack of  anyone else,
She wrapped her arms around herself.
‘It’s alright’ she soothed.
‘It’s kinda numb’ she mumbled.
‘It’s cold here’ she whispered.
In silence, she sat.
For hope.
For happiness.
Silence of pain.
In silence, she sat.
Of darkness.
Of resignation.
Here I wait.
For the light of tomorrow.
For a breath taken freely.
For laughter that doesn’t sound hollow.
For a smile that lights my eyes.
Tomorrow will be better-I promise.

Your shadow.

Dreamy World Of The Sleepy Girl

Darkness set in, old friend,
That hour I slighted you
Your friends look at me
Mocking? Shocked?

“You’re my Silver Girl,
The life of my heart”
Heaven is where you are
Haven’t you known?

I only miss your shadows
Your heart too loving
The flesh and bones of you
Too true, too honest, too alive.

I desired fire, hell, spite
A whirlwind for passing time
Adrenaline to soothe
The emptiness of my soul.

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The Writing Room.

I sit in a corner,leaning on a beige pillow,my beloved copy of Jane Eyre in my hands. It’s a small nook that’s more precious to me than any other material possession. It’s a small 6×6 feet loft with a simple mattress laid on the floor. The bright red sheet covering the mattress is off set by the numerous beige and wine red pillows scattered all around. The walls are lined with bookshelves,the scent of old,well-loved books with tattered spines heavy in the air. One wall contains books passed down by my grandfather,favoured by my father and cherished by me. The adjacent wall holds books I have added to an already extensive family collection.

On the other end of this wall is my corner. A simple enough place,a place that gives me somewhere to go when Reality is overwhelming.
A third wall holds stationery because on some days,you need an ink pen and creamy white paper to write upon. Rows upon rows of beautiful papers fill the shelves, but the third shelf from the bottom is different. It has a stack of midnight blue A4 sized sheets,a stack of envelopes, a wax stick, a stamp and a burner.
This shelf is where all dreams begin. It is meant for writing about only those things which are closest to your heart. Your soul is on those captivating blue sheets sealed in an envelope with wax and stamped with a beautiful filigree pattern. This is for mailing to a person who owns part of your soul.This is for reading on those days when it seems too much,too fast, too hard. This is to remind you that You can and You will. Because you once dared to dream.

The final 4th wall to complete this structure…does not exist. In it’s place is a full length window,opening to a regular city view. Rooftops and tall buildings in the distance,a tree outside the window,the road four flights down. The view reminds you that beauty and inspiration lies in the Everyday.

And finally to complete the vision, a typewriter on a table about a foot off the ground lies opposite to my corner,the 2 adjacent book walls. I see myslef sitting cross-legged in front of it,typing away for all I’m worth,Briony by Dario Marianelli playing softly in the background.