Daydreaming at night.

An attempt to unload excess baggage from my head, in the hope that it clears to make way for bags that are not so heavy to carry, sprinked with yen :)

Sometimes I wish my mind were just blank, a plain white canvas with no hint of a sketch on it. Isn’t a plain white canvas more conducive to creating a painting that evokes life? Isn’t an uncluttered mind a necessity to think lucidly? And yet, my mind won’t let go of superficialities that are scribbled on it unwittingly. Sometimes, I have to imagine a dusty black board and a duster and imagine myself cleaning my dusty mind, each stroke deliberately taken to remove layers of unwanted words, unheeded tears, irreconcilable altercations, unattainable aspirations and irrational fears.

It is easy to criticize, except oneself. I am astonished at my ignorance often, when by strange twists of fate, I find myself involved inextricably in the same actions that I deemed below my condescending scale of what I consider worthy. If only the oblivious critic would peep behind the curtains to see the amount of effort that goes behind each creation, however ordinary it may appear to be, he would not have the heart to criticize! How often have I been this critic until one day, I was the person behind the curtains and not in front of it?

If I had one wish, I would ask that my loved ones never be taken away from me and if I had a wish before that wish, I would ask that I never fear that I may live to see that day.

If I had one adornment to choose for myself, I would ask that I be given a string of jasmine flowers. I know not of a fragrance that endears more, of a hue that conveys more purity, of petals that convey more bashfulness even as they bloom...I know not of a flower more alluring in its beauty.

I want to write, not for a million eyes to read, but for a few hearts to feel. I want to write of a million different things, of dancing raindrops and smiling sunshine, of enchanting places and exotic cuisines, of wistful nostalgia and heart-breaking emotions, of unconstrained tears and amusing smiles, of fleeting moments and enduring pain, of love that hurts and those that I love…I want to write till I tire.

If all my friends lived a holler away, maybe I would spend more time creating pleasant memories everyday rather than just reflecting about those already created.

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