And I still think about you, even from the lowest point, half daring to dream, half mockingly jesting.

To stand on the edge, to look and see your life flashes before your eyes- what it was like, what it is now, and what it'll be like. Wouldn't you be intrigued?

Then you'll feel your future right there and then, calling to you, and whispers its gentle sufferings, its metallic caresses ever determined to keep its rhythmic touches upon you. 

Do you not desire liberty? 

Back to your native spring!

What does it matter now? Change is the only constant- one must keep chanting in one's own mind. At what price? Who knows? 

One must keep up the apathetic disposition, smile in the face of fear, and seemingly mock at the ever fluctuating nature of occurrences one has been graced with. To recoil from doing so is to torture oneself more slowly, for the trials are perennial and stretch beyond the foresight, the end of which never appear even in the slightest manner. Yet, to what extent? The mind is giving way to despair, to abandon itself to hopelessness, and attiring itself in nothing but disdainful defeat. 

What use could life be to one who can only wish but no longer hope? 

Testament

The matter is beyond all human hopes only marshalling the way for despair. 

God help the woman who has to face her fears for 2 years again. God help the woman who would rather die than do that. God help the woman who has to relive her fearful childhood again. God, help..

And somehow it's doubtful if she could make it past her nineteenth

Plunge

In times..such as this, what can one do but continue to hope in the Lord? It's indescribable the notion of the matter weighing so heavily upon the mind and dare I say, the heart. 

Can't one hope? Is there even something to hold on to? Does it seem like a flailing hand desperately clutching at straws? When fear and desperation claw on one's mind and gnaw at one's heart continuously, is it possible not to falter and give way to distress? Is it not possible that one might not recover from such a fall as this? 

My heart is heavy beyond measure. What will it take for fear to dissipate from my mind?

Occupation of an idle mind

I have been meaning to write this for a long time now. Actually, what am I saying? I have been writing to write so many things for a long time now. Time and laziness just got in the way. But I have been writing, yes, I have. Verse by verse, stanza by stanza. It is almost formless and thoughtless, but the reason it took so long is because I have been contemplating so much about forms and the thoughts in between to make it seem otherwise. So much for writing, I digress.

I am grateful for all the God has given me. As I embark on my last year as a..as a.. well, very young person, I am indebted to God for bringing me this far, and always being with me. There were unpleasant times, and I dare say it is an understatement, where I have been tried and of course, if God hasn't been with me, my physical self can hardly be expected to be typing this, even as it typed on a different keyboard with a trampled spirit. To be fair, it has been good mostly, outwardly at least, so I am thankful. Many, God has sent, as blessings to me, and well, blessings are really...how shall I put it, comforting, to say the least. So it is hard to put it..and it is hard to achieve, but I pray, with the guidance of God, that I could be a blessing to many, even as the young adult age approaches. Of course, I am quite specific. Specificity is necessary when you are striving to achieve something, without saying. But for now, I shall leave it as this. I have not fully developed in thinking and well, there are many factors.

Like, for example, my pituitary gland releasing unnecessary signalling molecules at strange time and in strange amounts it interferes with my rational thinking preventing useful things from happening and triggers useless occupation of the mind with idealism and of the body with luxury like penning the thoughts which relentlessly occupy the mind.

There I have said it. Foolish as it is, it is still happening. And I have been writing, yes, I have. Verse by verse, stanza by stanza. It is almost formless and thoughtless, but the reason it took so long as because I have been contemplating so much about forms and the thoughts in between to make it seem otherwise. So much for writing, I digress, again.

Our paths will cross again

They are like all the others, playful, merry and pure, I watched them as they fought with one another, some trying to intervene, some shouting to stop. I watched the boy from the front row on the second column stood up and lead them in prayer for the end of the day and another boy from the back row on the fifth column do the same, giving thanks for their lunch(whether they had any or not). A lunchbox would feed 5 of them. Their enthusiasm for learning echoed across every "Finished, teacher!" as they raised their tiny hands, impatient for their turn. "Good morning, teacherrrr," was what I looked forward to during those days. It was brief, too brief, in fact. But I am just beginning to learn.

Yet, I could not help but wonder about their future. What will they become? Who will they become? I am very much interested. I want to know. I want to connect. I ..want to help.

They are very young to remember an insignificant girl coming to their class but the eldest was fifteen and I have high hopes. I wouldn't just leave a thread hanging. It would be most careless.

Voices- they are calling.