Now Playing: Black Crown – The Tree Line

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A Little girl once lived in a room made of glass. Her name is irreverent, and so are her dreams. She is unbeautiful in the eyes of her mirror. Her only beauty is the mounting scars building up on her chest. As she heaves at night, desperate for the moon to settle in one spot so she can sleep oh so peacefully, her little brain carries thoughts that weigh twice and once the size of the universe.

At times – right when she is about to fall asleep; comes a frightening cry within that shakes her entire being, and opens up her eyes to yet another sleepless night spent with the reflection of owls through her glass room.

She would rise out of her bed, o so tirelessly, pick up the colorless chalk and draw her fantasies on glass hoping that someone, somewhere, somehow – feels her pain through her paintings, breaks through the glass, and rushes her weary soul into salvation.

No one was ever near enough. No one ever tried hard enough. No one wanted to try. The closest anyone ever got to her room was a young lad whom she believed was her savor. He would come by everyday with his chalk and paint the world by his hands. The more they drew, the more he was closer to breaking her free. Alas, the moment her glass room was about to shatter, he rubbed his painting and walked away – doubling resistance of the glass, and shattering her heart instead.

Seasons would come and go, and her colorless chalk was to never be touched again.

Dreams are what separate us from the harsh reality. We are taught to follow our dreams and take adventurous routes in our lives by mostly everyone we meet. We hear and read stories of those who dared to ‘dream and achieve’ so much so that they have become the rule, not the exception.

Or are they?

What if those dreams are what makes our reality so bitter in taste and dusty in view?

What if those dreams that keep us awake at night are the reason reality is so stormy at times?

While we dream our hopes and wishes seem as real, when reality feels out of reach and so conveniently non-harmful. However, once our feet hit the ground and our eyes open up to reality – our sight becomes blurry, and our ears become useless only to the beat of certainty. We crumble and close in on ourselves, refusing to accept destiny and thinking this life was not meant to be ours.

Destiny, fate, and providence – The holly remedy that both sickens us with one sip, and cures us with the other, making us greedy for more, only to continue the cycle of sickness and cure; reality and dreams.

Is it sleep that unbalances us? If so – I wish to never fall asleep as long as I live, for I shall sleep forever after my soul escapes my body. If not – then why do my dreams haunt me at day, and when do they form if not at day.

Forgiven are those forgotten – Forgiveness is a state of mind where our brains and hearts bare no more of pain, hate, or the sore emotions of feelings. Forgetfulness is when we reach that moment where forgetting is the only option to live a moment with no regret.

But we do wake up from it all, every waking moment or so, right between every breathe we take. We try to miss it. We try to pretend that it is not there. We trust ourselves to lie to ourselves, solely because we cannot bare lies of others no more.

I make no sense of my words or obscure thoughts at this late moment of night. I seek self-soul redemption from thou memories and pain. Perhaps tonight is the beginning of my self-revolting soul against the tyrant living in the darkness of my heart; pain.

Just like those in Tunisia and Egypt Succeeded, and those in Libya are struggling for, I shall chant to my inner soul late at night and early at dawn: The Heart wants to topple the Pain. The Heart wants to topple the pain…

Pain: The Tyrant in Darkness.