It is here, alright.

I tried to hide it from myself to no avail.

I have been running away from it.

I now realize that I have been going around in circles towards it.

So, here I am now.

It is time to face my fears.

No longer am I running away.




How do I believe in life, in the face of death?

How do I practice hospitality while I am in self-preservation mode?

How do I share when there is a fear of scarcity?

How do I hope when the future seems so bleak?

What do I hold onto when there seems to be no cure, no solution?

When I give up all hope, what do I have left?

What is life without this frail shoot called “faith for a better tomorrow”? 

“It shall be well,” I tell myself despite the darkness that has descended upon me.

I hold onto the dying embers of my former existence.

I grab hope with trembling, worn-out hands.

“All will be well,” I shout to my haggard, fear-stricken soul.

I don’t know how, I don’t know when, but I will rise again.

We will rise again like the phoenix.

Tomorrow it shall be well; this is my hope.

It is the spring rain that waters the dry, parched, tormented mind of mine.




Just be me.

Enjoy myself.

Make peace with me.

I aspire to do all these, but I am at a loss.

For you see, it is a whole new world for me.




She knows it is time.

She must act now.

She knows it is a no-brainer.

She has to decide; it is now or never.


She must seize the moment.


She looks at her barren hands.

She stares at her empty self.

She gazes at her weak hands.

She glares at her imperfect soul.


She tears her eyes away and looks up.

She turns inward.

She finally discovers the treasure hidden within herself.

She has finally locked onto her purpose.




It is quiet.

It is calm.

It is clean.

It is orderly.


A feast for the eyes.

A pleasure for the senses.

A lovely aroma.

A delight for the soul.


Is it the real deal? I wonder.


I scratch the surface.

I look into the closet.

I peek under the rug.

I perceive double standards.


Is this perfection a mere veneer? I wonder.


I think the tranquil atmosphere is deceptive.

It is the calm before the storm.

It is darkest before dawn.

The deepest wounds are numb.


Let it explode.

Let out the captive mind.

Let the skeletons fall out of the closet.

Let the abscess burst from the dormant wound.


The only way out is through the dreaded pathway.

The only way to heal is to confront the pain in its gruesome glory.

The only way to thrive is to face the storm head-on.

The only way up is moving forward a step at a time.


Rebuild again.

Keep it real.

It may not be perfect.

It is authentic and alive.


So, let the hurricane ravage in all its majesty.

Fear not for you will rise again.

You will come out better and stronger.

You have grown through your pain.




She folds, curls, and tightens herself into a taut ball.

She no longer moves onwards.

She isolates herself in a compact, unyielding pall.


She clams up and falls inwards.

She rejects, repels, and returns no phone call.

She shuns company and dares not look outwards.

She strains, struggles, and can barely stand tall.

She crumbles, breaks down, and chokes on her words.

She tears hope asunder and lets it fall.


Depression and self-doubt bind her soul with steel cords.

Her heartbreaks leave her bitter as gall. 

Fear, guilt, and anxiety come rushing in, smugly dealing their cards.


Oh, why for help don’t you call, my dear?




It is impressive the way lives intertwine.

The way each twig and branch bends and enlace each other.

The roots may be seas and oceans apart.

Yet, when the doors of our hearts fling open, we discard prejudice.

We finally realize that we do click.

We are all the same beneath the surface.

Together we form a lovely canopy of humanity.




I wonder.

I ponder.

I gather.

I scatter.


I throw my queries to the four winds.

These questions keep gnawing and nagging at my worn-out mind.

How do I measure the life I have lived?

How do I tell if it was worth the while?


When I go off yonder beyond this here time zone;

When I leave this here time frame;

What will I leave behind?

What will my legacy be?


Will the space I occupied remember me?

Will the roads I roamed miss me?

Will the people in my life now, remember me?

Will the strangers I chanced, along the paths I trod, take note of my absence?


Will they, will you, will anyone miss me?




It doesn’t concern me, but it touched me.

I can do nothing about it, but it shot through my defences.

It is too complicated for me, but it crawled into my soul.

I can not go through this experience for them.

It is their journey and their battle, but why has it infiltrated my mind?

My dear heart, why do you bleed, melt, and yearn to be a change agent?




I am eating my sadness away.

I am “sleep neglecting,” my pain away.

I have thrown away self-care,

In a bid to throw away all care.

Does it work?

Or am I just killing me softly?





Leap, jump, don’t hesitate.

Do it afraid.

Don’t let mistakes petrify you.

Fail forward.

It is better than regretting.

Or agonizing about, the “non-result” caused by your procrastination.

Don’t let trepidation paralyse you.

So today, push past the fear and soar.

Don’t tear up this cherished dream; you took so long to conceive.




Look at me.

Like me, please.

Notice me.

Want me.

Listen close.

Trust me.

Lonely, I need you.




It’s time to curtsy.

It’s time to let the curtains fall.

I have much enjoyed each moment spent in the company of you.


It’s time to turn the page.

It’s time to start anew.

The memories of us always I will cherish, forget you soon, I will not.


It’s time for me to move on.

It’s time for me to exit.

It’s neither that I loathe you, nor because you are lesser.


It’s now time because we’ve grown.

It’s time because our paths have broadened.

You have new horizons, and I have new dreams.


So dear “night owl” friend, it’s a goodbye, and I wish you well.

If you chance to be close to “early in the morning avenue,”

You will most surely find me there.


Goodbye, “night owl”.

Goodbye, “late-night up.”

Goodbye over sleeping.


Early morning, here I come!




Dream big, I dare now.

I edge out slowly, cautiously.

Can I fly this high?

Am I an eagle and not the chicken I have always allowed myself to be?

Oh! What do I do?

The greatness within me is pushing its way out.

It is breaking down the walls of my timidity and resistance.

I am finally giving in to this long-time hidden, repressed desire.

This vision has grown and is pulsating, developing, and pushing outwards.

It is no longer dormant in the far recesses of my mind.

Here I am.

 I give myself permission to live and dream big again.

I am breaking out of this chrysalis called fear and people-pleasing.




By your side, I never noticed anything distinctive.

Well, that’s not true.

I did notice, but I let it be dark under my lamp.


You dealt gently with my reticent heart.

Your patient coaxing broke the walls around my wounded soul.

Your thoughtful gestures rebuild my damaged esteem.


Now that I look closer, I am quite surprised by the treasure I had ignored.

I am amazed by the numerous simple nothings you bestowed upon me.

Your loving heart enveloped me.


I nearly overlooked you.

I waited for the eventful moment where you would declare your affection.

I wanted proof that you had lost your heart to me.


Yet, you had always delicately showed me your love.




It’s dark.

I am nervous.

It is cloudy.

I am worried.


Is this the right road?

Do tell me.

Comfort me.

Clear my doubts.


Can I move forward?

Do I stand still?

Can I try this?

Do I do that?


I know I am asking for too much.

I wish things were more accessible.

If only I could receive an immediate response to my requests.

I wish making decisions came with ease.


I know the answer, but I am scared of implementing it.

I need to take the first step.

I have to move forward despite the blurry vision.

I need to put one foot before the other in spite of my fears.


Walk by faith and not by sight.

I guess that is where I am in my journey.

I take one little step after the other.

Nothing seems to be happening yet.


My heart is awakening and flying joyfully.

Please don’t get your hopes too high, my dear soul.

I am in a process, and I gradually advance.

I inch forward slowly.


That is all I know how to do now. 

Dear heart, I applaud you.

Keep on keeping on; your eyes fixed on the vision of better things to come.

Let hope arise and let nothing distract nor deter you from your dream.




It isn’t enjoyable.

It is cutting.

It is scathing.

It is acrid.


The remarks you hurl at me, make me squirm in my seat.

I long for peace of mind.

Oh, I do yearn for a rested, quiet spirit.

This ruckus in my mind is draining.


Being pulled left, right, and centre is bending me out my shape.




Dear guilt, you are a cruel slave master.

You whip me.

You thrash me.

You flog me.

You trounce me.


You are ruthless.

You are unbending.

You are merciless.

You are inflexible

You are cold, hard, and distant.


When you appear, you release me not.

You hold me tight in your vice-like clutch.

You squeeze every essence of light joyfulness out of me.

For you have decreed, “there is no respite or joy” for such as I.

I deserve no peace of mind, for I am imperfect.




It is quite strange.

Whenever I feel like I have it all together, everything unravels at my feet.

I have to deal with issues I once brushed aside as being facile and insignificant.

Now that I am in the thick of things, I realize how wrong I was.

I had allowed myself to be narrow-minded and blinded by my inflated sense of knowledge.




Am I good enough?

Have I ever been good enough?

Do I do enough?

I wonder.

Do I like me?

Do I even know myself?

Am I compassionate to others?

And if I am full of empathy for others, how do I treat me?

Am I merciful, gentle, and kind to myself?