i don’t blame you
i don’t blame you for screaming
i don’t blame you for hurting
i don’t blame you for anything you do
and yet you blame me
for every step you take
like it is my fault i have bruises from your assaults
like it is my fault that you hate me enough to stay
all i want is to go back to when you were in love with me
so in love that you didn’t speak for weeks
at least i didn’t have to wear long sleeves and bandages.
As I stand in the crowded train day after day, I dream of becoming someone different, someone new. Someone who isn’t confined to this world, someone free to follow her fantasy, and not remain trapped in assignments and submissions and fears. At times, I wish I could just move out of my shell, speak out, reach greater heights, and yet here I remain, stuck inside my own head, screaming in colour, while the world outside remains black and white.
Crowded trains, empty hearts,
a lover’s turn to scream
like broken mirrors and glass
held together with duct tape,
Blue cold creeping over the rainforest of ruins and shadows,
wind on our faces
a play, a pretense of a smile
behind half a rumour,
there is the rise of a face,
that changed everything.
-inspired by train travel, standing at the door, wind on my face, an empty ache in my heart and a mind full of dreams
When I was a small kid, I had a dream of becoming a nurse. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t have any desire to help people – I just liked the shiny white outfits that they wore in the movies. It was a humble dream, now that I think about it. Then I grew up a little. My ambition scaled itself. I wanted to go into Hogwarts and become a wizard. I waited ages to get that letter of acceptance. By the time I was 13, I realized that was never going to happen – my fantasies were just that – fantasies. I had to find something more ‘real’. Now I turned to being an author and winning the nobel prize of literature. I always thought of sitting at home all day long and writing my stories and become famous. And then I grew up a little more. Now I realized that sitting at home and writing was downright crazy – it wouldn’t pay my bills. So I turned to finding a ‘proper’ course about something I liked. That’s how I turned to design. Now, I dream about forming my own design firm and winning the red dot design award. For all I know, adulthood will kill that dream as well.
We all have had dreams, and we still have dreams, and we will continue to dream for all time to come. But does that mean that we dream of the same thing all our lives? Our dreams change as we age – they become duller and shallower and the spark of wildness that was once found in them is found no more. We loose a tiny piece of our soul as we lose each dream that we had, as we try to be more ‘mature’ and do something that is ‘real’.
What is ‘real’? Isn’t everything that we say or do ‘real’? Who is to say that what we dream isn’t the reality? Who is to say that maybe, just maybe, our fantasies won’t come true? Not in this universe, perhaps, but maybe in some other?