A Point of Emphasis?

Days after days, I keep losing my sense to hold on to the beauty of life. I let go of my loved ones because life demands that. I hate the idea of living, yet the lust for survival keeps creeping in, time and again.

I fall in love with mere ideas in my head and each reality-check shatters me. I build homes only to demolish them with my own hands afterwards. I knit wings for myself only to have them cut when the time for flying comes. I know it’s hard to confine life into microscopic definitions, yet I long to define it once.

The generation and time I belong to hold the scariest of dilemmas: I am free, yet my religious beliefs, political opinion, gender, sexual orientation, ethnicity and what not can have me killed.

The personal and the generational anxieties tire me.

I want to have a home on the clouds but my ladder breaks down before it could reach the clouds. I try to gather every little piece of sanity I ever found, but I am still confused about almost everything. At times, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee is all I need to calm down, but other times, even career, friendships, major triumphs against life do not fulfill my incomprehensible cravings.

I wish to advocate the weakest of voices, but silence entraps me.

Words bring me solace, but run away before I could cage them into my poems. I exchange pages-long letters with strangers, yet struggle to make an everyday conversation. Wanderlust and an urge to spend all my life inside a tiny room inspires me equally.

I carry so many conflicts inside me. I rebel, yet I conform.