.a written note.

I wake up as I feel vibrations and the alarm I'd set last night. I am alone here. It awakens and freshens me up within first two seconds. Its 2AM and its only been three hours of sleep but when I step on the floor, I don't feel I'm compromising anything. I drink a glass of chilled water and I know I want to make this last until the Sun rises. I get my things together and sit down on the floor. Without any mattress. I look at these four walls and I am now reminded of the same mood I used to be in over here a couple of years ago. Of books. And knowledge. The walls that seem nothing more than just walls now, would feel like my companions back then. With this pleasingly idle, breezy midnight and one of the best sounds of winds and leaves of the Palm tree together, I have the whole house to myself. As the sweat starts fading away, I again know I want to make this last until the morning. And I know it is going to be like this every night from now on. Its time. I've known. ...

I step outside barefoot this breezy early morning and when the breeze runs over me like some waterfall does over those stones washing away their roughness, all that covered me until now goes away somehow. Its a rainy smell. Cold and purely cold. I smell it and just as the cold floor kisses my feet, I wish to keep walking. To keep walking down the streets. Through the lanes. By the Palm trees seeming to be reaching higher and higher every time I see. The usual Blue sky covering itself with the shades of Grey that appears to me as one of the few mesmerizing things and that I secretly love, meet a shade of light lavender only to strike a chord of realization somewhere in me. Echoing that this is what it   stands for. Revolution. That this is the moment I was meant to witness after everything I stepped out of and before anything I may sneak into. The moon looks at its best showing off itself among the clear lavender sky that makes it look brightest like never before and say...

Whispers. The whispers created by the unknown, making me believe some promises aren't meant to be broken turned their arrival into an intention of disappearing a couple of nights ago. And here I am tonight. The bed I lie in makes the saudade, the longing feel less no matter how it feels really. Painful, chaotic or simply unknown. As my body hesitatingly rests on this bed, my internal self hesitates openly for the belief lays inside that I can come out from there..for there are locked doors ahead that I can open. I begin to hear that specific sound of typical midnight as the clock ticks 3am and I fail to understand whether both, the little chirping and the sound of silence, make any difference to the sensations I initially feel as I wait for the same whispers to get back to me. I still believe they'll come back but as the night continues to pass every moment, it becomes more chaotic to know the wait makes my heart sink deeper in an unusual way. This isn't what I thoug...

How everything it, the revolution, provides me with, leaves me with something that will never be, that could never be erased by the mature, standard fingers of this universe. I am not guarded by any thick walls anywhere around me to restrict those fingers and the way they might aim their gaze in wonder or just as I'm someone anonymous. Anonymously known. Reason may be that they assume I'm not the same person they'd seen, that they'd met anymore. I don't mind the pointed fingers and the gaze reflecting so many doubts, probably, that I know I could clear. But when I am under this dark blue sky, I don't mind keeping things unsaid and unsorted since I understand I don't need to keep a guard around myself just as to keep the inside story safe and sound, just as to beg the unknown desperation remain inside. As much as it can. As long as I'm capable. And how, when the Moon is up, I can't be someone who I'm not. I get transferred to a place where th...

Some unknown hurry. Some desperation I knew but didn't have to come across. Until now. Until this specific moment. Its midnight. I guess so. I'm horrified. Scared. Feeling almost empty. And emptier, the more I think of what made me feel like it. The roots of it. The dream I just dreamt. The dream I happened to dream. Unwillingly, for sure. I'd prefer anything over the kind of a dream I just dreamt, my instincts. No, nothing's going to happen to her, the voice almost yells from the inside. Needless to say the dream was worse than reality. So worse that the reality itself would rather seem and feel beautiful. My mother used to say, considering the continuity of the dreams I dreamt back then, that people usually dreamt about things they constantly thought of or wished to happen. I remember the days when I used to stumble across the same as I did now. Bad, painful dreams, making me feel like I was never going to get away from them. Most of the dreams, back then, were the...

Waking up in the morning has never been a pleasant thing. Its more of something that I have to do. The idea of passing the whole day pretending I don't mentally circulate around that one thing, tires me. Passing the whole day trying to divert mind just so that one thing doesn't get the attention and just so I don't end up lying in bed all day long, not speaking to anyone, seeming to be lost in thoughts only to let people wonder what's happened. I never really understood when actually did I start feeling most comfortable alone. Have never been that introvert but when things become as they have now, nothing seems enough to cure it or make me feel that good. I wake up fighting the urge to sleep more. More and more.. until the sunlight goes off again. But I wake up, anyway. Try to pass the whole day doing what comes along. Even the smallest thing, such as keeping the newspapers neat and well, seems to be taking much more time than it should just so it'll decrease ...