Origin of Thoughts

You. It's strange how we crave for isolation but disgust our loneliness. Imagine this. How would you feel if you were changing the world but nobody knew? Today, my loneliness could not embrace me. I kept looking for answers, for reasons for why I am how I am. Why I exist. What difference do I make. I make no difference. I want no one to help me. My own isolation guides me. I find little, sometimes no pleasure in blending with people. What do I do then? I work. I work some more. When I'm done, who's going to be the one to see what I've done? The people of course. The people I forgot about. We all do this. If you don't, you're one step ahead of me. If you do, you're still ahead of me, that is,if you haven’t lost your mind questioning your existence like I did. How often have you not been able to explain your sorrow? The truth is, you can. You actually know the reason why you are in such a pain. Your life is purely doubtful. Your existence

Inside Out. I'm running. I'm running, so fast that my breath is louder than my footsteps. I have no time to tumble. Behind me I see people shouting at me to run faster, telling me how proud they are of me. In front of me, I see my heroes, waiting to grab me and pull me to a place beyond this soul crushing forest. Sometimes I don't know what I am running for. It's like I'm running, looking for places where I can heal, but with every mile I keep losing bits and pieces of me. Often, I get scared that at the end, there will be nothing left of me. That one day I will reach the mountain top but when I look at myself I will see nothing. Nothing at all. Is it worth it? One day, I will not be scared of death. I will let it feast on me and happily remember all the times this body has helped me, betrayed me. But for now, I'm a coward. I don't yet want to meet my inner self. This side of me has done too many wrongs. I have though, explored myself in so m

Saving You My thoughts will never meet yours, for my level of tranquility never matched with anyone's. I find peace in ways you can't.  Your depths and skies are not of my universe. Yet, we all are unique. And therefore I am just like you, because even I, am not like anybody else. It's like we've crossed paths often. Like we're in a maze, and the only direction we go is forward. And there, from the corner of my eye I can see you making your way out from your own direction. We've crossed paths, number of times, but never have we stopped and looked at each other more closely. Are we scared? Because in my mind you're all the things I want in me. You're the last picture of which I am the pieces. I almost want to run back, grab you and say stop. I know you. You don't know me but I know you. And I can fix everything you want me to. Because in some or the other ways, you have fixed me. What will you do then? Some reasons aren't worth sa

The Person Behind This Person Dear Friend, I'm trying to be myself. I'm not yet there. Over the years I have looked at this body, these words, these possibilities, through other's eyes. Mirrors cannot penetrate deep into my soul and show me the real me, and neither can you. You have yourself to take care of first. I am a mere creature, whose body is relaxed peacefully on this chair, but whose soul has been aimlessly wandering through the streets of this city for years, hoping, that maybe today it would find its true identity. I wonder how I am. I have not met with myself, someday, though, I will. I will meet myself lost in time, sometimes looking for scissors to chop off my rough edges, other times sharpening my soul. I will meet myself, grab shoulders, shake myself up and look straight into my own eyes. I want to see me. How am I? Why do I never get tired of this question? Why do I always want to hear from people about how I am even if I know their answers? W

The undecided being Our tracks were never made. We will never make them either. Paths aren't  created for others to walk on. And no one, I swear no one will ever walk the same path that you have. Our lives are as vast as this land. Our paths will be just the same way. Do you make your path to walk on? You don't. You don't have a path. You don't build one. You don't follow a trail. Life was never about having a path. Life was always, always about getting lost. But life was never about losing your purpose. It was never about looking at your past or future. Life is, and will always be, about finding peace. The true meaning of existence, of becoming a human. Why do we spend hours trying to figure out what is wrong with us? Why don't we stop in the middle and realize that life is just a part of the existence? That mistakes are not worth sobbing over if we don't have much time? Do you know how close you are to death? Do you realize how morta

Break to dust Do you like being lost? Everyday I see your nest getting thicker and your wings growing smaller. I see your sleep less peaceful, eyes more guilty. I see you, more amused by others than by yourself. I see you, looking at yourself more closely at the mirror, wondering what is wrong with you.   Everything is. You aren't a human. You have yet to become one. Why do you keep searching for your home? Why do you want find someone else's touch on your skin? Why do you want someone else's eyes to see your own self? Why do you try to find your essence in someone else's lips? Why do you feel incomplete when you aren't even a whole? You have no home, love. You are meant to be lost. You're meant to be pushed, pulled, loved, crushed, broken and built. Because in all of these highs and lows, you will find your horizon. We are but scattered pieces of a single energy. It's up to us, whether we pull ourselves together to find ourselves, or we le

The Gray Side. It's the horizon that I want. Your horizon. Your black and white side, I've seen them. If I haven't, I have felt them. I have felt their power, I know, at least a little, of what they are capable of. Your demons. Your angels. Locked up in opposite corners of your soul. They know me. I don't know them. I don’t know if they look at me with anger or patience. But they have seen me, through the bars of their cage. They have figured out what I am. Who I am. Or at least, how I am, from the outside. I want to, NO I have to, See your horizon. Your gray side. I have to see your gray side. Where your angels and demons meet. Where there is no wrong or right. Where you're peacefully numb, where you're happily lost. Where you're not what others see. Where you're exactly what your eyes tell me. Where you don't take a step back or run to me if you find me. I want to see your gray side. I'm not me. I have neither angels, no