Dreams|vs|Broken Dreams

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Dear Deluded Heart,

Dreams are as fragile as they are sturdy; they will stand for as long as we chase them. The end of a pursuit however, turns dreams into broken dreams. And broken dreams always come back to haunt us.

That is the nightmare I fear; I dread the turn of the table…
…The slight tip of the scale, between dreams and broken dreams: Where one drives me forward, the other will run me over the edge. Where one Continue reading “Dreams|vs|Broken Dreams”

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Water|as|Love

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If Love is Water, then I am a desert, for it is something my lips have never tasted, a thirst that’s never been quenched, a sea I’ve never stepped into.

I’m often asked why I don’t take a plunge into the unknown and dive into the sea of love that awaits before me; the water of wanders, an ocean of life. And here’s why…. Continue reading “Water|as|Love”

Dear Somebody

3.Dear Somebody DODH

Growing up I always wanted to write a story for lack of my own.

But my affinity with letters took my creative writing on a different journey; I began writing to people and things and addressing songs and movies. By way of that, I found my muse in words unspoken, and addressed my love for letters as just that: words unspoken.

From a reflective point of ponder to a curious case of questioning, my letters all carry a trail of “Perhaps” – exploring possibilities, uncertainties and suggestions – It’s a form of grey area where nothing is too definite in this form of confessional expression. But starting with such ambiguity leads to a trail of unanswered unknowns; words sent out with nothing to ricochet off. It is a trail I pursue with no result.

For far too long I’ve been letting letters lay; unknown, unopened, unconnected and to no effect, collecting dust like an archaic mosaic. My “Dear Nobody’s” and “Dear Somebody’s” begins and ends in “Dear Yours Sincerely” – But somewhere between the silence I’ve killed the purpose of my pursuit of perhaps; so now I’m turning what was once rhetorical into something more oratorical.

So perhaps it’s about time for my wonders and curiosities to wander from darkness into luminosities; to seek to serve my letters justice by posing my words outwardly, released from my own captivity. Perhaps my stagnant words will search its addressee and find its home. Perhaps I’ll find my answers, perhaps I won’t. – Perhaps’ are a-plenty; It’s time to seize the unspoken and free my anchored blues and frivolous musings.

Looking back, I think I knew that this was always an inevitable matter of time, to finally release what I always considered, just a matter of mine…

T
Diary of a Deluded Heart

Diary of a Deluded Heart

2.Diary of a Deluded Heart DODH

(- Part 1 -)

You’ve all heard of the great Heart vs. Head battle. Well perhaps it is essentially because of this struggle that I’m at war with myself; – except mine involves less heart and more imagination… so it’s the clash between my Head vs. Imagination which takes charge of this deluded heart.

In this conflict however, there’s a fundamental problem; one lives within the other. Therefore, I live in a world with blurred lines intertwined; what I actually see with my eyes versus what I want to see with my mind. This world is a place regulated with changeable rules, governed by desires and idealisms, which do not depart through the barred doors of realism. I choose my minds eye to lead and blind myself to reality. But where I’ve chosen to move ahead with my imagination which transcends me to a place of infinite possibility, I find myself moored to the dock, chained to the place of my first dwelling. I’m a master of my own outcome on the one hand, but an immobilised and powerless pawn on the other.

I’m a captive who holds the key to my own prison door; the one that would allow me to go beyond just the theory of love/life/everything and towards the horizon. It is however, a key I’ve never attempted to use to escape with, because in a world where I’m anchored by inexperience, my imagination is liberating and sets me free…

I’m imprisoned by my only form of escapism.

So, the question is, do I continue to follow the manuscript of my mind where I’m stagnant and unmoved, yet free to wonder as I will? Or do I take myself beyond the shield and follow the lead of my head, where the air on my face is real yet the shackles of my feet weigh me down as I try to move forward and wander off into the real world..? Catch 22. “Great figure 8, or a tiny infinity…?”

(- Part 2 -)

For someone who’s never experienced love before, I’m always in love.

That’s not the best sentence to start off with; something contradictory and unfathomable, but it’s the God-honest truth; I’m in love with life and people and – kidding, I haven’t turned into a cliché just yet – I’m just in love with figments of my own fantasies I suppose. Granted they all begin with some sort of truth, usually the fictional or famous kind, but then the rest is all me and what I morph these ideas into.

Once I choose my target and cast them as my hero of the hour, I draw inspiration from their life; injecting parts of it within and then projecting it into the walls of my own mind. I adopt an internal view of an outsiders world… and in this enchanted place built up of their world and laced with my own perceptions and judgments of it, I fall in love; both with the idea of them and the narration of my version of them, so I guess…with myself…? Continue reading “Diary of a Deluded Heart”