Dear owls, how does one ask the right questions?

 Maybe everything is making sense now...

Dear owls,

It is 11/ 24/24 and if I make it on time, I can publish this at 11:24, just for the cinematics.

But that's not why I'm here; that's not why I've blown off the dust from this blog and opened a new page to print it on here. I'm here because I bought a new keyboard and I wanted it test it out. I know you were probably expecting something more dramatic, drastic.

While I'm here though, I will say that a lot has happened. I've loved, lived, and learned. The one thing I haven't done yet is just "been", by definition to just "be" - as the famous saying goes, "We are human beings, not human doings." So, I've started being more. To just accept that life is what you make of it, but it's also what you let in. But if you're too busy doing, you might miss out on the being and then you'll eventually miss out on the receiving too. Wouldn't you?

They don't warn you about the silence adulthood offers. I have never adjusted to that part of adulthood. The part where nothing is really happening and people just scroll on their phones mindlessly, where people just seem so numb. Nobody tells you how quiet some days are. That was the struggle for me. I still sing when it gets too quiet, when nobody wants to duet. I can't really tell though if I'm a quiet person or the type of person that wants to chatter. 

These days, I focus on the things that make sense to me. A good cup of tea, coffee, or a cold water. A nice seating space with a new pen and my favorite notebook and just music or a nice talk in the background. A warm hoodie, because it's the winter. There's nothing really exciting to plan for and that's a good thing; I've been traveling for a while and I've been moving a lot, maybe it's good to settle in and just "be"

It's a weird place to be though; everyone's either getting married, divorced or pregnant. And I'm here, "being..." I don't regret anything, and I wouldn't change anything, but I don't think I thought about that when I was younger. When I was younger, life was just life.

Now, life is a careful line you walk and there's a ticking bomb on everything.

Life is fleeting. There must be a better way to live it without feeling like we're missing out on everything.

The silence is beautiful too. A new keyboard and a reemerged blog that never dies. Isn't that beautiful too? 

So, Owls, how do we ask the right questions? Too many questions make you a stalker and too little of them make you indifferent. How do you find the right answers? Or is Life, not a search engine-optimized platform?

Yours always with random thoughts,

Me.

The Path of Least Resistance

Dear owls,

Wasn't it scary? To stand in front of the world and sing? I understand now why people look up to confident people. They portray a part of them without fear of consequences. 

What happened to my voice? How did it get silenced? What happened to my courage? When I roared, who roared back louder and scared me off? Slowly, I bring my roar back, and I begin to tell my story better and stronger. 

When did I start writing emails better than I could write to the world about things that matter? So I stood in front of the mirror and asked myself, "what pisses you off, what makes you angry?" - it's the things that make us angry that matter the most to us. When you're angry, it's a good time to look at the topic that's causing you rage. Anger tells you what you care about.

I want to be famous, for all the right reasons. To make a difference in someone's life. But, as Jay Shetty says, "Purpose is for others, passion is for you," - so before making a difference in someone else's life, I'd like to find my tribe. I'd like to feel silly again. To speak my truth without fear. To feel invincible, as I once did before my story got lost in translation.

So, owls, I come back here to say, "thank you for being the only constant" - I've been journaling secretly because some things I don't want public, but for the most part of my life, it has been a pleasure to come back to this little writing home that I've created.

Yours with a surge of change,

Me.

Dear owls, a comeback.

 When I get too afraid to write...

I remind myself that it's normal. As Lady Gaga once said, "writing music is like open heart surgery", you really need to get in there to get the art out. And that's exactly how it feels when I'm writing poetry or just putting pen to paper. It's terrifying. It's a lot because you never know who will pick up your book, read your blog, skim into your words, and never know what they think.

My last blog post was 2 years ago. It's not because I haven't written. All my pieces are in 'drafts,' beautiful, well-written, lovable pieces. But, I made the decision for the readers to hide it. I decided to wrap all those unsaid words up and hide them away to gather dust. Letters to my future daughter, updates about life, and my feelings during the pandemic. I had so much to say, but I silenced myself because I feared saying the wrong thing.

When we're younger, we care less about the outcome of our actions, which is great when you're having a good time. Now, we're older, and we calculate very well the outcome - or so we think. Perhaps we over-calculate and under-explore.

Fellow reader, your eyes read like laser beams into the scream, and I am looking right back at you through my words. You may think this journey on my blog is solitary, quiet, and calm... but it is I. Here. Breathing. These stands of sentences are my veins; they swim in the internet, study the surface of your screen, and dance around with each word you read. This blog is not dead. This blog is alive. This page has always been my baby, heart, and brain all in one.

For when I pass away, a hundred years from today, my words are all I'll have left behind.

Love always with tea between my palms and a keyboard between us,

Me.

Dear owls, new place.

Dear Owls,

Coffee in my hand and a million things in my mind. I sit here and I contemplate all the paths life could have taken me. I am thankful that this was the road it lead on. I remember being in my dad's office and writing on my blog. He told me to work for him during the summer, earn some extra cash and gain experience. Little did he know, those moments shaped my experiences in life exponentially.

I am grateful for the many ways those little things made me who I am. Right now, I sit at my day job (my only job, ignore the dramatics) and I write this because I have noticed it's been a while since I've come on here. However, somehow it's always the right time when I choose to come back.

I'm doing my masters while I work. It's funny to me because I didn't expect it to be so different from earning my bachelors degree. I thought it would be attend class, study and ace the course. But with a masters, it's more of "how well can I manage this all?". I started off wanting to ace every course I enter. Then, I moved onto just wanting to get through the course without disturbing my work life too much. Now... I use my masters as a tool to grow and just become the person I've always wanted to be; forever learning, forever meeting new souls.

Everything has been clear so far; finish school, finish university, work. But it turns out, your desires as a human exceed these aspirations. You need something to get you through the weekdays. You need to feel more adventurous. Things need to work out in a much better way.

I believe that everything works out for anybody who lines up to their purpose. Incredible moments can be found in the opportunities that we take despite the doubt and fear that comes with it.

I am so proud of myself. I am so proud of the focuses that I have lead in life. I am sure that everything that is happening to me, is happening for me. I make things happen.

Another exciting thing I would like to continue pushing for is life coaching. It sounds extremely exciting and refreshing to help others. I have always wanted to live a life of service of others, but lately I feel like I have more tools to do this. There are so many things I would want to try in the world. I feel educated, wise and well.

If you've read this far down, I appreciate it.

I'll proceed with my day.

Yours with a passion for letters, love and progress,

Me.

Dear Owls, an infinity of questions.

Dear owls,

First and foremost, thank you for being a platform to understand myself and life. I'm proud of myself and my younger self for resting a nest on the internet, calling it home.

This blog may have started out as a dream that an opportunity would come by and I would get famous, but truthfully, this blog is more important than stardom and fame. This blog is my heart's home. It's a place I slip out of my tight shoes, put on a robe, tie up my hair and enter another planet. It's different having a place to tell your own stories, tell whichever stories you want. I'm very appreciative of the places I've gone, the people I've met, the childhood that lead me to this adult life.

I'm 22 right now. I feel 22. I feel great. Writing on my blog after such a long time feels like entering your childhood room after leaving your parent's house after moving out. It feels like you've gone through so much, but also that everything's still okay. A blog is so powerful. A place to tell my story. A place to read my past. A place to call my own. To decorate. In a world of Instagram, Twitter and the Kardashians, I've got a home here.

The other day I landed on my blog and realized the HTML coding edited out my playlist, it broke my heart. Got it back up. It reminded me of the whole "coding" phase. Gosh, it just feels refreshing to know I went through all these different moments. I'm in such a different place in my life right now and it doesn't necessarily mean I'm better or worse - it's just different and I am immensely blessed. Everything I am going through is a blessing. I am extremely connected to my inner voice. I can hear myself clearly. I understand what I need and what others around me want, without me having to ask them.

Growing up, I was a very confused little girl. I didn't know how to get where I wanted to be, but I always knew I was destined for great things. Right now, despite my chirpy tone, things aren't exactly in the best place they can be. I still feel blessed. I still genuinely feel happy.

I guess for a while, for now, that's all that matters.

Yours with an odd childhood reminiscing,
Me.

Dear Owls, a house.

My fingers tap at the keyboard with nothing to say. What do I tell this universe that has taken everything from me? Am I upset about it? No. However, the fact that everything is temporary shocks me. Why is it that we cannot have our cake and eat it too? Keeping aside the science of it.

My fingers tap at the keyboard with small talk. I've been fine. Thank you. And you?

I tap and tap, hoping that somewhere between the lines, a tear will escape the keys; an indicator of lifeforms. A hint that I can still feel something. A sign that my heart still beats. My heart still pounds, like my fingers at the letters. My eyes desperate to keep along. I worry that my body has outrun itself. My brain has reached galaxies my physical form cannot. And so, I unzip my skin and walk outside this body that has brought me nothing but heartache. I walk out and fly into the dusty, cosmic milky-way. I am now one with the universe. I watch myself dance with my mistakes, with my past and with everyone I have left behind also.

Where will I find my new home?

I giggle at my own jokes and write a million books; "To the humans on the planet I will not return to, do no make the same mistakes I have made. Do not hurt yourself over things that cannot get hurt themselves - do not swim with the sharks. Do not swim, in general. Swimming is boring. To the humans on the planet I will not return to... don't forget to feed the fish."

Where will I find my new home?

Perhaps I am the home... and what I really must look for, is a house.

Dear Owls, personality test.

Dear Owls, 

One of my friends sent me a personality test and I thought it would be fun to try out. As I was answering the questions, I found that it was a lot easier answering the ones that weren't about myself. Which is funny, given as this is my personality test.

Questions like; "Would you respect other people's beliefs?"

"Would you want your child to turn out smart or kind?"

"Would you rather be honest than kind?"

Were much easier to answer than, "What do you prefer more ____ or ____?" 

Click here to take the test and let me know what personality you get!

Much love, 

Me. 

Dear owls, give up.

Dear Owls, 

Perhaps the deepest kind of pain I've ever felt was the pain of letting go of something I really wanted. Recently, the universe tests my heart and keeps showing me that the things we long for most are probably the things we shouldn't hold onto. 

If anyone feels stuck, just know that it happens to the best of us. 

I've held onto a fantasy for the longest time because I promised myself that if I found something that made me happy again, I'd try my best not to mess it up. But, even fantasies end. Even fantasies have a habit of giving up on us. The question is, when do we know to give up on them? 

The truth is, when you've finally gotten the perfect solution to the problem, you lose what you were trying to fix in the first place.

It's okay to let go this time. 

It's okay to give up. 

I'm so proud of myself for holding on for this long; I genuinely didn't know I could care this deeply for anything at all. It's refreshing to know I'm not a zombie. 

Back to ZombieLand - where humans are nothing but cheat meals. 

Yours with a new keyboard, 

me. 

Dear Owls, crumbs.

Dear Owls,

Recently, I read a blog post I wrote in 2015. True to it's title, it was a life changer - but not for the reasons I wrote it at the time. I've had a terrible writer's block and many times people ask me what gets me out of them. These random blocks that ruin your life... a lot of times I would say tea and yummy biscuits. But the truth to the end of most of my writer's blocks are me. I get myself out of my own block by reading things I've written before. Realizing that it's okay to share stories on my blog.

I'm so afraid of privacy, that I forgot some stories can be shared. It's not the end of the world for people to learn/grow from your experiences. I've got tons of stories to share; why haven't I already told them? Why do I keep all these stories in my heart? I bet you'd love to know about the time I climbed a fence to reach my university in time for my curfew. Or the time I sang under the moon in our university to a crowd of friends. I bet you'd love to hear about the places I've eaten at, or the time I drove a jet ski. The time I won at laser tag, or even that one time my dad walked in on me singing my heart out, smiled and shut the door. I bet you'd love to know all about how that smile he gave me made me feel. I've got stories about people who've hurt me, used me or loved me and let me go. I bet you'd love to know everything about the details, about how I've betrayed my own values sometimes.

It is as they say, that the devil is in the details.

But see, some stories are mine. And they will always stay mine. The curiosity will kill you, but it'll keep you wanting more. Perhaps this blog is for those who want a distraction from their own life by reading crumbs of mine. I think the biggest crumb I'll throw out there, is that I've recently had a huge self discovery. In the past 4 years of university, I was tested on my patience. How patient I am with the situations I've been put in. The truth is, owls, I didn't pass that test.

Do I regret it?

Of course not. And that's always the answer I reach; regret nothing.

However, with the end of my university journey, I must bid adieu to the person I was for a while. It's really exciting becoming someone who is this massive fire ball. Becoming this amazing, loud and wild person. But have you ever heard of the snowball effect? Breaking your limits are sort of like that. The snowball of decisions keep rolling and rolling. You barely even realize that the mistakes get bigger, until one day you just stop rolling, crawl out of the snowball and accept the fact that it's okay to be a fireball too. You were born a fireball. Because you wouldn't have gotten out of the snow without that heat inside you. It's okay to be amazingly insane. However, eventually, the real you starts to whisper in your ear... and it starts to tell you that you're not this person. This person that you had fun being, but aren't truly.

Take what you must from all your journeys. Learn what you must and appreciate all the people that have helped you grow into the person that you've transformed into. It's a beautiful thing to experience life in all it's forms. Which is why regret is never a factor you should keep in mind. The pain of losing people along the way is always what keeps you longing for a different path. At the end of the day, we mustn't dwell on what we have lost because what we have gained is far greater. It is not an easy journey, discovering who you are - congratulate yourself, some people never end up finding it. 

Dear Owls, new chapters.

Dear owls, 

Today marks the day I step into the final semester of my university. I know one day, I'll look back at this and smile. These are insane milestones. I want to make the most of this, or just enjoy it. And if shit happens, I want to take the most out of it. I'm so at peace with how life works, and I know sometimes I get super confused but at the end of the day, it's just you against the world. The rest is just external. You can't take care of the external if you can't take care of yourself.

I wonder about all the things I could've been doing had I not been panicking, and I wonder if stress does actually help me get things done. I don't want to be that person, always stressed. These days, I have've been dealing with stress super well. I did really well on my exams without giving my self acne and gaining 5,000 pounds. I'm proud. That has never happened. And you might think I'm joking, but no. I shit you not, I'd always be stressing and I thought that's who I was a person. I guess, sometimes the pressure gets to me because I know I can do better.

You see, this might sound odd, but I've spoken to the deepest parts of me. I realize how dramatic this may sound some, but to others... you get me. I've had conversations with myself. I've hated myself and loved myself and accepted that I am who I am. For a very long time, I was processing that I'm part of my own gender, part of my own age group.

Whether we like it or not, we're part of a community where you're perceived in a certain way. The trick... be something they don't expect. Always be full of surprises. Never leave them bored. The best part about being alive, is that you could still be anything you want to be. When you're dead,  that's it. People will remember everything you've left them with. When you're gone, you have no more chances. And it sucks to think about, but death truthfully doesn't scare me as much as living does. Living is a countdown; and we alllll know how I deal with countdowns and deadlines - I don't.

Reach out to your loved ones and try to meet new people. Don't forget that the best moments come with the ones you've invested your time with. Don't lose hope just because you've lost some people. And never change your values/standards for anyone. I think the saddest thing I see in people is the grudges they keep in their hearts. Our hearts, you see, are like strawberries. Put too much weight and you end up squishing them, bruising them. It's terrible to see how many people are making a terrible mess out of their organs. Learn to let things escape your soul, somethings need to leave your system; like poop.

Here's to better living,

Yours with a passion for improvement and food,

Me.

Dear Owls, counting blessings

Dear Owls, 

What a year! I wonder what happens now. At this point in my life, I've missed blogging so much. I always come back to you, this diary that keeps me sane. It is just so relaxing, talking to myself on a page that is being read by people in the United States, United Kingdom, Ireland, China, Russia, France, India, And even Peru these days! This is insane.

When I first started this blog, it was an innocent attempt at sharing my writings and feelings. Look how far we've come, I humbly thank each and every visitor. I've stopped writing because I didn't want to share the terrible times that were happening. But the truth is this blog wasn't made for just the happy times, I should be sharing both the good and the bad. In highschool, I would complain about grades and during summers I would complain about boredom. In university, it's only fair to tell you what I should've complained about. But, I won't. You've probably gone through it all. You've loved and you've lost; made some friends that hurt you, without knowing they'd ever do that to you. You've messed up a couple semesters and now you're trying to get your grade back. I'm human. It happens. 

I wish they gave a course on how to figure life out. It gets hard, it really does. I feel for anyone who's confused about how life plays out. I want to say, "I miss how things were" but I don't. Truthfully, things always change, life surprises you constantly and perhaps that's why everyone loses their track sometimes. 

I've learnt that sadness is inevitable. After a really tough experience years ago, I've developed an immune system towards sadness and I wanted to avoid it at all cost. I realize now, the most amazing growth comes with the pain. We don't see it until the dust has settled. My problem is that with the sadness, I lose focus. I've learnt the hard way that just because there's a storm outside you can't be productive under your roof - ah, metaphors. Who would I be without 'em?

How do you get through it all? Good friends, good food and working out. I shit you not, this is the only formula that's ever worked for me. Family is inevitable. You need to keep your family close, anyone really - your mother, sister or cousin. Heck, even someone who feels like family. If you feel alone, or the reason why you're sad is because you have nobody - join a community. Sometimes the most amazing feelings in the world come from the feeling of connection. 

Finally, work on yourself. When you're feeling down or when you're feeling happy. Level up your skills, whatever they may be. And forgive. Keep your heart light and your friendships simple. If you've made mistakes, apologize but don't lower your gaze. Never let anyone take away from the value you hold, no matter how much you think it'll fix the problem. Defeat is not courageous; honesty is. After you're done working on yourself, thank yourself. Don't be too hard on that little child inside of you that is still learning what it means to live. 

Take advantage of January. 

Yours with tea and biscuits, 

Me.  

Reader, 

You tell yourself you're going to do something different. You tell yourself you're going to buy the car, or get the grade, or impress the boss, or get a haircut. Stop. Do the thing. Don't keep waiting for someone to help you. If watching a movie makes you feel good, make time for it. Procrastination does not look like progress, and if something makes you feel good then it's progress. Of course, this could be the most hippy way of looking at the world but you don't have time to sit around and feel terrible about yourself. Stop labeling things as "procrastination" or "laziness". 

Some of the greatest lessons I've learnt were through cramming for an exam. Some of the greatest people I've meat were the ones outside the class that I skipped. Life is much too short to keep crying about the same wound. Just get up and live. This isn't an invitation for sloppiness. It is quite the opposite. This isn't encouragement to fail your tests or skip your responsibilities - this is your wake-up call, begging you to realize that if you're going to screw it up, at least make it count. Get up and live! Go somewhere you've never been before, meet people you've never known existed and eat food that you usually wouldn't. And live. Living is a luxury. 

Dear Owls, never.

Dear Owls,

There is nothing more confusing in the world to me than change. It rattles my bones and worries my spirit. Change is not my strong suit and it never will be. Edit: I'm trying to refrain from definitive words, so perhaps not never. I wish, now more than ever, that these letters to owls were real. That when I write, they reach somewhere. Instead, they spin into a whirlwind of internet archives. I wish these letters were real because writing them brings me so much comfort, it's surprising that I'm speaking only to myself. I forget how comforting it is to just vomit words onto my blog and call it a 'hobby'.

Confession: I want to publish a book someday. I want to write beautiful things and I want those beautiful things to help people who need to read beautiful things. You are so kind for reading my words, whomever you are. I say this now because perhaps now is when I  need to be heard the most. The most terrifying thing to writers is that their voice is sinking. It's scary to think that someday, nobody really cares about what you have to say. What would we write about then? And would it even matter? Well. The answer is yes. Writing, with or without an audience always matters but it's always nice to have you here.

When I first entered university, I didn't know what to expect. It felt like I was a little lemon. My memories are happy and fresh. I didn't know anybody. Everybody took me on a mental trip. All these people, and I could do whatever I wanted with my time. I wanted to dance about it. Let the liberty hold my arms like puppet strings, as I oblige to the movements. It was glorious. The second year, I was more cautious, with friends and decisions. My third year went to shit because of all the stress that sat on my heart. I put too much on my plate and it became effort to eat. Now... it's my fourth year. I have no idea what to expect really. It's my final year, and I'm hoping that I feel like a lemon again. Not sour, but refreshed. I miss feeling accomplished. I want to learn and do new things. There' s just never enough to do and so I find myself doing nothing; frankly, pure hypocrisy to all the planners/schedules I set out for myself.

Right now, I'm at a changing point. Like I said, I'm not too great when it comes to these things. I'm at a point in life where I don't know whether to let go of things that I've wanted or just keep fighting for it. But tell me, is there any good in fighting for something that doesn't belong to you anymore? My anxious heart just wants answers to these questions, simply to know. Had I known where I was ending up a few years from now, I would probably be much more at ease. I guess that's the point of life. Not knowing. I just had much more in mind for my last year. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I've done nothing. I just feel like there's something missing all the time. And this missing thing? I feel as though I'm never going to get it. Ok, maybe not never.

Yours with wishful thinking and a heavy heart,
Me.

Dear Owls, mentors

Dear Owls, 

I'm waiting for something to happen. However, I'm not even sure what I'm waiting for. So, my heart keeps pounding, expecting something to magically appear, expecting something to sidetrack me. I think, medically speaking, this is called anxiety. But in a less dramatic sense, I think it's just boredom. I'm tired of this routine, but at the same time- I'm trying to set a routine.

I read a quote today and I'd like to share it, because it hit home.

Perhaps the reason I can't break my nasty habits of being extremely inactive and overthinking about every possible thing is because I can't envision a better use for my time. What if I've taken a liking towards my sluggish obsessive behavior because it entails that I cannot fail, because I haven't tried? What a foolish life to follow.

One of my favorite vloggers on YouTube, Thomas Frank, (click the link, provided for your convenience) is also one of the most productive young adults of our time. I watch his videos some nights and wonder if I'll ever have the same motivation he does. Will I ever read as many books or create an 'Impossible list' like his.

This year, I've been stuck one idea, and it's gobbled my mind up silly - Who is my role model? I've met different people say their fashion role model was Kylie Jenner, or that their humanitarian role model was Sandra Bullock. So... who's mine? My whole life, I was afraid of copying others. Always worried that I wouldn't have individuality because I'd be following someone else's steps. But, recently, I list the greatest leaders in my head over and over thinking, even they had role models. It took me forever to look this up, but I really wanted to know which great people were mentored by other great people. For the longest while, I didn't know how to phrase that on Google! Alas, thanks to Technology, the list was found and I have never been happier.

What I found changed my perception greatly. One of my favorite inspirations mentored another worldwide inspiration. Maya Angelo, my favorite poet of yet mentored Oprah Winfrey. “She was there for me always, guiding me through some of the most important years of my life,” Winfrey said. “Mentors are important and I don’t think anybody makes it in the world without some form of mentorship,” she added. (Link to List)

My favorite Maya Angelo poem:

I wonder who my role model is. And I wonder if I'll ever be lucky enough to find a mentor that I can learn from. It took me 20 years to accept that it's okay to have a role model and mentor.. I wonder how long it will take for me to ask for one. I imagine that requires an insane amount of humbleness and courage. Not to mention, knowing what to ask a mentor for.

Yours with thoughts,

Me.

Ps: here's a link to other people's list of historic role models - for my reference and yours

Dear Owls,

Dear Owls, 

I want to do something different.

Dear Owls, life (again)

Dear Owls, 

Life. 

Life. 

Life. 

What a way to break a writer's block, huh? 

Just, life. 

More than ever, I think I just want to invent a supersonic time machine. I'm tired of the now, I'm tired of the things that are happening. I want to go back in time, when things were so different. When all I had to worry about was where my uniform for school was placed. What time the morning bus would be at my home; the excitement, when the bus drivers calls saying he'd be 10 mins late- just enough time to toss in some cereal and milk. 

Breakfast was the most important meal of the day.

I was the most important meal of the day. I would eat my insecurities away, one flaw at a time. I was never the subject of concern. I miss the past. I was okay. It's not that I'm not okay now, it's just that I miss it, the comfort of the "good old days". I miss the innocence I saw in the world. I miss being myself in a crowd of people. I miss not caring. 

So, I guess some things never change. Here I am once more, trying to make sense of life on my blog. When will I ever learn? It's finals week and everybody is so cheerful. I wonder, when I look around, if anybody knows we're one step closer to graduating. One step closer to becoming adults. One step closer to being rejected at a job. I wonder if I'm the only depressing dingus in the room.

Yours with a sour aftertaste from a spoon of life, 

Me. 

Dear Owls, flying horses.

Dear Owls, 

"Someone used to write this way about you" he told me, with confidence in his eyes. "How could you settle for less, when you know if you only commanded, you would have the world at your fingertips?" 

I miss writing stories. I miss living in a parallel universe some days, where my life wasn't as important for a little while. I miss writing on the blog too. This place was where I'd go to rest my mind, to free my demons (and my angels, if I had any left). These days, I wouldn't know what to write about. I wish I had written more when I was younger, I wish I would have just kept writing, like I wanted to. I remember days where I was worried I would get carried away with the story line, days where I wouldn't start a new story because I was always so worried that I would continue starting things I don't finish. But that wasn't true, I always somewhat knew what I wanted to write about, and my stories really weren't half bad, given I was only a kid (this was 2 years ago, minor lol)

"Then where's the challenge?" she smirked, "What's the point of going after something you know wouldn't require any effort to get?" Her eyes mirrored the sunset that slowly sunk into the emptiness. It was an odd feeling she gave people; like she could drown the universe if she was unhappy with it. Almost as if she fed on adventures, and seeing her hungry was the last thing anyone wanted.

I miss talking to people who made me feel smarter. Not with what they say, rather with how they react to what I say (which may come off as extremely egotistic, but it is, nonetheless, the truth). I love speaking to high-school students because they make you feel like everything you say is gold.

I miss feeling like gold. 

Like, nothing in the world was worth my sadness to begin with.

I hate that nobody really listens to anyone these days. I hate that talking isn't as important as, let's say, dating. Everybody has this agenda. It's getting so exhausting. What happened to meaningful conversations and being there for other people in need? It's come to a point where, if someone gave the biggest cry for help or attention, people would rather spend their time gossiping about that person instead of giving them a hand. Needless to say, some people take "attention seeking" to the next level, but there is always room for humanity.

I miss writing stories because for just a little while, I don't have to worry about this world. Just for a little while, I'm a princess fighting soldiers from the second world war- and my horse suddenly swallowed a plant that could make him fly. My horse can fly... and I am on the top of the world.

Love always,
me. 

Dear owls, clarity.

Dear Owls, 

Oh, it hurt. More than any kind of pain I felt. A silent pain, with no cure. It hurt like a drug, infusing my system with venom that I could not get out. It was spreading inside me so fast, I couldn't stop it because I didn't know the source of it. I ran so fast, I jumped, I was on a different kind of high. I didn't understand myself. I couldn't keep up with my own thoughts, feelings. It was the weirdest situation I was ever put in. And here I am, blogging once more about the mountains that come my way, hoping I could later understand the bliss of not going through this much.

"That's the thing about pain. It demands to be felt," - John Green

Last night, I was splashed with a bucket of clarity, but now I am suffering the cost of the frostbite afterwards. Where are thoughts born? Why are we always putting ourselves in situations that hurt? Where is the growth that happens from all this? All I feel is a fall. Just falling. Slipping. It's better than before, for sure. To tell you about what's happening now, I'd have to explain to you what happened before. It started off with one negative thought, a bitter emotion of some sort. I was offered an opportunity that I couldn't take (simple because of the people around me) and so I had to turn it down. The problem, however, didn't stop there. It escalated, developed into something much stronger; fury. I was furious at the world. At the wind. At water. At anything that had a label (so half the relationships at our university didn't count- minor lol)

So, how does this story end? It doesn't I'm still feeling confused. But, I gained some clarity along the way. Talking to people, the ones you trust, it helps. It's good to ask questions when you think you've figured out all the answers; odds are, there's always something you've missed out.

I sit here now wondering how amazing things would have been if I could gulp up a glass of clarity. Just chug it down until I can't chug anymore. Here's to more understanding. To more people in my life, that remind me of my roots, my beliefs and myself. The real me. The one that doesn't worry about the fear she gets before she asks a stupid question.

Yours,
Me.

Dear Owls, lost but home.

Dear Owls,

I'm losing my mind over a world that offers me nothing but more questions to a question. I'm drunk on ideas, drunk on possibilities and drunk on nothing but reckless thoughts that will get me nowhere. What do they call a place for people like us? Daydreamers, locked inside the prison of their mind, forever questioning everything that comes to them. Or doesn't come to them.

I'm too much of an Arab in Dubai and too much of a Westerner in my hometown. I'm too loud, too opinionated but too quiet and fragile voiced. I'm too much of something but also too much of something else at the same time. I'm too religious, but too open minded. I'm too much but not enough. And where do they put people like me? Where do they store us when they need us? And where can I find more of me? More of confusion. Because, ironically, two confused people clear each other's vision. It is a sanity pill finding someone who is as confused, as dazed as I am. I am lost in my mind. Lost between wanting to know more and never wanting to reach the finish line.

And here I am, years later, asking the same question: what is life? 

Sometimes, I lose myself to the thoughts of "could've been", "should've been" and never really being. The reason I haven't written for so long, was because I was so afraid of saying the wrong thing. So afraid of just blogging again. I sometimes forget that I started this blog to clear my mind, to remember that thoughts can be put into words if pinpointed. There is something so gorgeous about this world, a screen that everyone's eyes glistens to, except mine. Not that I don't find anything beautiful, rather I don't know where the magic happens. 

To my dear owls, I'm torn between the many realities I have set out for myself. I'm going on mini adventures in my brain and none of them are taking me to a destination. And so, I sit here in the comfort of my bedroom, the mountains, the middle of the ocean... lost. And yet so at home.

Yours always,

Me. 

Dear Owls, whibley whobley.

Dear Owls,

Everybody gets lost sometimes, everybody goes through a major shift of events, negative thoughts and just plain confusion. My mistake, now and always, has been that I hold myself accountable for these emotions. I think thoughts must be perfect and emotions should remain stable at all times. It's okay to have a shift of perspective every now and then.

Today, I learn that confusion can be hilarious. I learn that past mistakes become choices. I learn that the world is just a big jumble of a whibley whobly mess. And it's fantastic that way.

Me.