Hope To See You At The Finish Line

As I stare into the night sky tonight and just think to myself. Will the stars always be there? The moon is showcasing a painting which is only a shadow of what it once was. And as every second passes, it drifts further away until it's overcome by an ocean of yellow, as I search in hoping to find traces of what once was.
Life's slowly losing its taste. Sometimes it feels as if my world is about to be blown away, other times I just try to calm my soul by constantly telling it, the stars will still be there once night falls. See life, life's a dark canvas, and those stars, those shinning lights are what make it livable, they are what makes you alive. Those little balls of fire, that illuminate your world, and having to leave them, leave the constellations of memories behind to move on to something new, hoping they'll be there waiting for you when you come back is the scary part, but it is the harsh reality. Even stars can only burn for so long. As for the kid who always wanted to be Spiderman, gets the first chance at adventure, and realizes is the price to pay really worth the adventure? Life's short, really short, and times like this you realize it more than ever, as you begin to notice the littlest things in life, and relive the regrets, as you look at the dark space left, and the constellations that almost were. So each night I take a few minutes out to look at those stars, memorizing where they were and how they were hoping they follow me to where life takes me.

*Takes a look at the sky* No Mr, Moon I have not forgotten you, nor can I ever, because the only reason I still carry on, knowing somehow some way things will turn out alright is because I know, no matter what you'll be there for me, and no matter how many canvases I paint you'll be an ever present figure. I'll find you in the day, and I know you'll find me in the night, and sometimes, that's all a little boy needs to keep going, a constant light even in the darkest days.
So this is where I'll end this monologue, a boy sitting on the balcony treasuring the lights in his life with hope they never leave him.

A Beautiful Concert.

It's 12:30am now, I look outside the window and it's dark. The sky appears like a black blanket while the street lights look like the stars. Guess the world finally turned upside down. No wonder the sky is crying. The rain isn't soft and peaceful. It's coming in with a fit of passion. Pelting the ground hard and giving of such a soothing sound in the process, the wind isn't one to be left behind and it joins in the music. Howling like a wolf on a full moon night bringing with it the jitters that run down your spine. The trees start singing along as they hand over there leaves to be used as drums. The song is in tune and now it's time for the show to begin. The clock strikes 12:45 and all the lights go off. The little light that came from the street lights no more. It was a dark night now, perhaps the darkest I have ever seen. I walk out into the garage, so I can witness the magic, and so it began. Slight gaps appeared in the blanket above, bringing down moonlight. They looked like spotlights. The lightening in all it's glory took over the dark blanket. Now there were jolts of electricity in the sky giving of a purple white disco light effect. The concert was in full flow. I slowly joined in, each part of my body beginning to sing along. I felt like a rebel, so alive. I let the rain take my body like it did the leaves and the ground. I let the wind take my hair, and use them as violin strings, I let the ground take my feet, and produce with them a passion that rivaled the lighting. I let the moon take my heart, as  I twirled in it's light. Oh how I wish the song would never end, but an hour later it did. The lights came back on, the clouds were tired and dispersed away, the wind slowed to a stop. Now it was just me, the ground and the moon. I took of my shoes, and walked bare feet in the puddles and then sat down and stared at the moon. I smiled, knowing I had seen a show which the world had missed. I looked up at the moon, and kept staring at in, enjoying the after party, until dawn broke.

The Little Things Give You Away

Sit down. Breathe. Bury your head in your knees. Cover them with your arms. Now bleed. Bleed through your eyes. Bleed through your tears. Bleed like you've never bled before, and then keep bleeding. As the wind howls and blows against the top of your head, brushing against your hair. Take it in and use it as relief. Use it as solace. Use it as a means of taming the flame, of lessening the pain.
Now close your eyes, and ignite the fire in your brain, let the memory out, and let the flame consume you. She's gone. She's dead. Everything you had with her is a memory. Everything you wanted to have with her is a dream faded into oblivion. You take a deap breath and you let that thought settle in again. Only to jerk up, and go into a fit of rage, a panic attack, a desire to fight life, a feeling of helpnessness. You remember the hospital bed. You remember the blood all around. You remember that little life you both created. You remember how that life resulted in her losing her life. You punch the ground and watch the blood pour down your cracked knuckles, but you feel no difference. You feel no more pain, cause you've reached your limit. You feel your body shaking, quivering, your soul fighting against it, begging, longing to be free so it can be complete again. You crawl over to the lake, and see your reflection in the water, but it's not there. Instead you see a monster.
You look down at the ground, let some tears dampen it and you think back to the hospital. Where your little kid lays, waiting for daddy to come to her. Slowly you raise your head and look into the water, look at your reflection again. You notice the blood on yiur knuckles, your notice the pain in your face, you notice her absence in your eyes, and you feel no remorse for the life you created. Shaking hands reach into the pocket and pull out your saving grace. You point it to your head and smile. The grass painted red, it's all over.
The little things gave you away. All those little dreams, all those little hopes, that little child at the hospital orphaned. Those lips on your face forever turned to a frown. She was the little things, she was the big things, she was everything, and without her you were nothing.

The Girl In The Mirror

Cloudy skies... there were always cloudy skies when it came to her. She was a flower, the sort the world hadn't seen before, but one by one the petals were plucked out, but the flower didn't die.... not yet. It's still there, fighting to live, taking in the dashes of sunlight it gets, and weathering the wind which tries to blow it out of the ground.
I'd see her most days, she would see her self every day, as the girl in the mirror. I think she saw the damage that was done. I believe she started feeling as if things would never change, after all when all you get is gray cloud filled skies, after sometimes you tend to forget that the sky was once blue. Though some times the sun would come out, and on those days she smiled a smile you remembered seeing in your childhood. I think when she looked in the mirror, she just saw the scars, the pain, maybe she couldn't see what the girl in the mirror was capable of. She was a fighter, a real strong one at that. Who could take so much and yet find things to be happy about. She says the girl in the mirror is emotionless, cold and damaged. Yet she's the one who cries sometimes, she's the one who smiles sometimes, she pockets full of emotions. Probably the most emotionfull person I know, but she's good at hiding it. Not always though. As far as damaged goes, that she is, but scars are good. They remind you of lessons. I have mine, I bet you have yours, and she has hers, but the girl in the mirror is running, running towards her dreams, and she's jumping over the hurdles one step at a time. One day she'll reach the finish line.
It's a cruel world, cinical in so many ways, and almost all the times it's against you. Don't let that break your spirit; get inspired by it and kick butt because despite all you say, that girl in the mirror is one of the best people I know and she should learn to appreciate herself, and be happy. Because despite all the pointy objects life throws at you, it still gives you those little dashes of sunlight that keep the flower going.

Hands

She held her hand out, and smiled a smile that made my soul burst into life, a smile that filled every atom in my body with endless energy. I slowly moved my hand out and grabbed her little hand. It was merely the size of my palm and it felt so perfect, so gentle enclosed between my palm and my fingers. She had a an aura. A very strong aura. An aura that spread through me every time she extended her hand in need, and everytime she smiled to say thank you after I did.
Every time we had to cross the road she would be scared of the rushing trafic, so we would croos the road together, hand in hand and I could feel the fear in those little fingers. Every time we sat down together to watch a Disney Princesses movie, and she would clap giddily at the end of it and in those claps you saw sparks of excitement bursting out. 10pm, that was her bed time, and I'd set her down in my lap, wrapped up in a blanket, with a cup of hot chocolate as I'd read her a good bedtime story, and when The GingerBread man drowned, she covered those pearly eyes with her hands and sobbed. That's the first time I realised hands conceal pain too. Then she'd remove them from her eyes and wipe the salty water on my shirt, and I'd laugh.  She also did a good job of showing rage with her hands, everytime I messed up something, forgetting something she asked for, or stopping her from doing something she wanted to do cause I found it risky, she would start punching my leg, with the face all red like a hot balloon, funnily enough I found it adorbale. Though my favourite hand emotion was the one she showed me when she'd lean forward, and put both hands on my face (trying to grasp on to whatever she could) and give me a kiss on top of my cheek, right before asking me to buy her a certain toy, or when she'd put her fingers between the gaps of mine and say, you're my best friend. She taught me something I never thought hands could portray so well. She taught me hands show love, and love like I never thought I'd feel.
I was the older one, but I think she taught me more than I ever hoped to learn. Through every thing we did, I became a better person, and no matter where I go or what happens, I'll always remember that feeling that came when I held those hands. That feeling was heaven.

Healing With Love

Stand on top of the rooftops of Ichra, close your eyes and take it all in. The incredibly polluted air, the ear drum hurting sounds of car horns, the pungent smell of garbage lying all around you, take it all in. Now open yout eyes and take in the sights of the streets, kids half dressed running around, poor beggars around every corner, some so old they can barely walk and some so young that they still can't be without the shelter of their mother's arms. This, this is home. Now feel it. You are a part of this, the bad the good, this is your home. Your home isn't just the 4 walls in which you live in, no. It's the air you breathe, it's the ground you walk on. So try making your home better.
There are a million ways to make a difference, but this one issue, it's really close to my heart. This is about the little ones, this is about Eid. The celebrations of all celebrations, when we all go to buy new clothes, dress fancy, it's just a big party for everyone. So this year; I am asking for your help to include everyone. There's this organisation called 'Satar.' What it's doing is, it's asking for donations for clothes, so that this year, we can bring a smile to the less privileged people, and since we are helping the little ones why not help the old ones too. Hey, they too have got a heart that beats. I mean look around you, those folks on the street barely covered up, don't they want to celebrate Eid? Don't they have a right? And it's not just about Eid. Clothes are a necessity, especially here as it protects you against the scorching sun and keeps you warm during the relentless monsoon. So they'll benefit so much from your lending a hand to them one time.      
This, this opportunity to help, it's coming in the month of Ramadan and it's to make someones Eid. So let's not shy away and lets help. Lets throw a pebble in the water, make a wave. Make a wave.

People Always Leave

The sound of the engine's ignition pierced the air and my heart. Slowly the wheels began to move and it was as if time stood still, yet moved so fast. I wish I could have ran towards you, stopped you some how, but I couldn't, and before I knew it the giant structure with wings was gone and it left an empty space on the platform.... but even a bigger void in my heart. It was then when the realisation began sinking in that people always leave.
A few years prior my Grandmother had passed away. I was just 6 when that happened and do you know what I did on the day of her funeral? I sat in my cousins room playing on the computer. I look back at that day, sometimes during the night when my subconscious mind is running wild, other times during the day when I'm remembering the things I wish I could have changed. I remember days when the rain would be pouring down and I'd be sitting in her lap outside in the terrace, and eating oranges from her wrinkly cute hands. I wish you could've seen me grow up, seen me do my Olevels, struggle with my Alevels, grow a beard for that matter, God I would have loved to hear your opinions on that, and on my first shave. When every one was calling me a "chila houa kadoo." But I guess you were needed up there, though I am still unaware as to why.
19th January. It's my birthday and it's also the day my Grandfather was born. Though  death embraced him before life embraced me. My Dad still talks about him alot, always showering praise on his selfless acts, and the amount of hard work he'd do. Death cheated me out of his love. Two lights that went out a bit too soon.
Now I know this is turning into one really big sob story, but this paragraph is the real sad one, see life and death have taken people from me, but then there are those who chose to go because they weren't willing to fight to stay or maybe they thought I wasn't worth the fight. People always leave, sometimes though they change first, kick you where it hurts, turn their backs at you with a sneering grin on their faces, and simply walk away. I had the same best friends since Grade 4, and one by one they all left cause I refused to do things they all started doing, until it was just me, 4 chairs, a table, and a cup of coffee, which cooled down to a chill.
Change is good they said, they forgot to mention sometimes it's painful, brutal, and it leaves behind a scar, a scar that either always hurts, or becomes a lesson, or both. I'd like to end this with a ray of sunshine though, cause you know what if people leave, it hurts and you miss them, well you're lucky you know? Cause atleast you have something worth missing. Every song ends just remember to enjoy the music. People make it hard for one to open up, but always be chipper have hope for in this rose garden you might just find a sunflower with no thorns.