Heartfelt - Blog Posts

Do you ever think 'how did I end up here?' Like you are in a maze and totally lost and it's all your fault because you were the one who made every turn? And you know that there are many routes that could have helped you out, because you hear all the people on the outside of the maze who made it through, and they are laughing and smiling. And sometimes you get a glimpse of them through the hedge. A fleeting shape through the leaves. And they seem so damn happy to have made it and you don't resent them, but you do resent yourself for not having their ability to work it all out. Do you? Or is this maze just for me?

The Midnight Library by Matt Haig

My take on an ideal Christmas.

So, I saw a lot of people blogging about their ideal Christmas. It, frankly, tempted me—though I'm quite aware this'll go unread. Just a place to share my thoughts.

Christmas is a celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ. You know, the guy that died for our sins and was initially condemned for it but later returned in full glory, embracing every nook and cranny of the world as a religious breakthrough. The main idea he propagated was basically that we care for everyone, spread love and abide by some basic principles—most important of which was to stay humble and kind.

Then, tell me, why do we feel the need to be extravagant on the very occasion that is supposed to celebrate the birth of someone who is the humblest of all?

The idea of people throwing small, domestic parties is quite fine—comforting and valuable, in fact. Cosy gatherings with your family and friends, all huddled up close with fulfilling and hearty but not necessarily extravagant food, a piping hot cup of coffee and a crackling fireplace, whilst helping out those in your locality with warm food and clothes—even the street pets; the perfect idea of Christmas. Being grateful for all you have but not indulging too much.

Usually, I'd never comment on these things—it's none of my business on how people splurge their money. But recently I've been seeing posts about people having extravagant, over-the-top and simply infuriatingly indulgent Christmases. Not just that—these are the same people who refuse to help someone in need. They'll come up with excuses like, "Oh, I'm not rich enough to help this person."; or worse, "Oh, I don't have anything to give to this poor stray.—and then they proceed to make themselves look like a kind person by sharing quotes like, "give back as much as you can." Very ironic, isn't it, considering that a sandwich for a starving homeless person is barely 3 dollars at a Walmart and a sausage even lesser for the poor shivering dog on the streets? Don't you realise that the time you spend preaching, you can use that time to actually help people in need and make a difference? Even the smallest difference counts, people! Make a change! Splurge less on things you already have and start splurging on kindness—no matter how less you can give away!

Anyway, this felt more like a rant than a take on an ideal Christmas. This post is just futile. People don't change. But I need to channel the angry humanitarian inside me, so—Here goes nothing.

It doesn’t happen often—to connect with someone just through words.

But this time felt different.

We talked so simply, effortlessly, like we’d known each other for a long time.

Maybe it was just a conversation, but it left me with a beautiful feeling.

And now that you’re not writing anymore, I feel the absence.

Because when someone touches your heart with simple words…

you don’t forget that easily. 💬✨

Poetry

Am I a man, a woman, neither, both or does it change from day to day?/ I honestly don’t know/ it just goes to show/ that almost nothing's as simple as it seems. / I dream of reams and reams/ of stories/ of the glories/ from a throne, from space, from a place/ in another universe./ I want to be free with my ideas. With myself/ But I can’t get them out because I’m afraid./ What will they say?/ Will they tell me to just pick straight or gay?/ Or will I be the target of their hate? Day to day, I worry. I can’t know./ Sometimes everything just sounds like a crow/ crowing “Nevermore!/ For evermore/ You will not be sure/ who your friends are./” I know I got the bird wrong/ but this is getting long/ and I haven’t even started to begin.

How is it that yearbook messages can go from "You're amazing, fantastic, and beautiful" to "Thanks for not killing me in my sleep"?

3:19 AM What’s around me is sleep. What’s within me are thoughts dancing on songs I hate to hear.

3:20 AM now And I’m done with this prose— or to put it right, I’m done with this observation.