Since I was little, I always dreamt of singing in front of a roaring crowd. And I would represent the crowd in my head whenever I was shower-singing or thinking. Once I had held that concert in our bedroom with my little brother as the only crowd with the Malaysian twin-tower model we own hanging at the wall, giving my feelings a grander landscape. And my dreams were more real than my abstract thoughts. I would hit those piano keys- almost perfectly and belt out the high pitches accurately- more often of Coldplay songs than others. And my crowd would be dancing in the rain of confettis. My dream ego always came through for me.
And that’s why I hated waking up. I thought I was past the point of these dreamy, subconscious cliches. But now, I think I’m into my alter-ego even more. Because while everything looks so messed up, I have suddenly realized how I’m the reason or the cause behind it all. I had forgotten to factor myself in this massive chaos that is revolving around me. Nobody’s at fault. They have perspectives and they own that. The difference is that although I have my own too and I know I’m right with those, I’m not applying myself. Because I’m too scared. Or maybe too adamant on pulling through the end- to see what lies there awaiting me.
And I don’t believe in messaging and consolations anymore. Even the companionships I used to endorse are brittle as fuck. They’re busy. As they should be. I’m just smelling lithium all over. People are basically fake and try-too-hard edgy. They have less feelings and more phoniness to show. All they look for is a hole to punch in their comfort and dig out our vulnerabilities. That’s literally the only thing they’d do for you. Show up when nobody’s home and then brag about it. Alienate when you need it the most and then call you the drama. Always in comparison, always in retrospect. Never in the moment- where you are and how you’re holding up.
All you’re looking for is a home. Find it. Wherever you are. My home is the blog as of now. I’m just letting myself loose here, letting it all out. I take the keyboard and it takes me to places I’ve never been. When I’ll look back at my articles, I know they’re gonna loop me back to how I was at the moment whilst writing it. Sort of a time machine. And that’s why it’s my escape, a journal. I just live and relive but the problem is- there’s no disparity between. Because, a poisonous air has filled up my room and I’m living fast, dying slow.
Scientists can’t fix you. There’s no magic or miracles beyond your point of existence. You can’t everglow and that’s a fact. All that’s left for us is an adventure of a lifetime to clock in every tear that is a waterfall. So, put some guns to your head full of dreams, let the birds fly on up and up and don’t panic. Don’t cry over your everyday life. God put a smile upon your face. Your loved one is your church, calling you over when you’ve been orphaned by the politikal daddy. Everything’s yellow nowadays and all we’ve got is each other and a Higher Power. You’re welcome in my place as well- just for a hymn for the weekend.
An Escapist 