i'm bending the truth
Looking into oneself has become cliche, in a society where writing down your innermost thoughts for the world to read is a common occurence.

Some people take time off, others hold people at an arm's length, while others hold on tightly to whatever they can hold on to.

Because somewhere in a kitchen there could be a woman stopping the dishwasher, her yellow-gloved hands in the soapy water, gazing out the window, realising that she always wanted to be an actress but had become a mother too soon. On the other hand, there could be a spinster in a rocking chair, crying over the child she had aborted when she was young, feeling more alone than ever. And maybe, in a hospital somewhere a doctor could be holding up a newborn by its ankles, marvelling at the miracle he had just performed. Elsewhere, who knows, a college student could be cheating in an examination, to meet his parent's expectations.

As for me, I lie in bed till 2 in the morning, writing about my passions and dreams in black ink, thinking back on past experiences, present circumstances, and the mystery of the future.

Thinking of past lives, of threads and stars. Of Universes in one's palm. Of portals into the soul, of lost convictions, postcards and passports, of jumping from one mountain to another.

Self-introspection leads me into viewing my Life in some basement, a slice of dust-light from the projector beaming images, episodes, and sketches of the quilt I'm slowly stitching together.

And I watch my Life so far with a smile, bittersweet, and sometimes I laugh out loud, and cry. Most of the time I keep quiet, watching the slideshow in awe. Everything I've ever held close to my heart, I watch.

Elementary notebooks filled with summer drawings. The cresecendos and lulls of my favourite songs. My first paperback book. The sting of a palm slapping my cheek. My mother's laugh. Watching a plane take off from behind an airport window, shielding my eyes from its silver brightness.

Fingers intertwining. The taste of tears, saying goodbye at the airport. The shock of hearing about someone's cancer. Seeing a wedding. Beautiful sunsets I've collected, midnight walks. Slipping stones into my pocket.

Looking back, looking within.

5 whispered | sweet words