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And just like that, the thoughts begin again.

I have stopped trying to stop it. In the first six months this year has given me, I have decided to instead embrace the chaotic mind-stream. To swim within that which makes me emotions change their wavelengths so frequently.

Nevertheless, in this mind-space of white noise, there lies a more joyful tone in the air. The thoughts are not as dark, and neither are the solutions as grim as before. The memories are lighter, the heart is warmer and most of all, the switch that deals with whether or not I choose to care about situations is being utilised to its maximum efficiency and I believe that is great.

I hope.

But even with all that, the melancholy tune wisping it’s way through my thoughts don’t stop. They only get louder. And as it peaks at a mad crescendo, my hands cradle head; one wiping the specks of mental fatigue from my face while the other runs it’s fingers through the uncombed mesh of hair strands on my head. And in the midst of the whole process, one sentence drops into my thoughts…

“Life is actually great, but…”

And I feel my body release an accidental sigh almost on reflex.

Today began like every other Tuesday.

Dull, boring and uninspired. Judging by yesterday’s work end, I wasn’t particularly looking forward to today. But the wheels will turn as God has willed and I found myself on the train to work, penning down thoughts onto a blog one would think I had forgotten.

Surprisingly enough, work went swimmingly. Maybe it was fate’s way of telling me that things can change. Which I know, but you know… sometimes, things will get you down.

But I digress. Work went well. I got a breakthrough that had been hounding me since Friday, so I felt accomplished by the time I was locking my desk and tap-dancing my way to the train home. It wasn’t the best Tuesday, but it was probably the most memorable in a long while.

I slept on the train. I usually do but I was uncharacteristically tired today so I dozed off before I even had any say in the matter. On both trains.

i get home. I make dinner for the family, as I have been doing on Tuesdays and Fridays for the last couple years. And for the first time, in God knows when, I burnt it. Because I fell asleep waiting for it to cook and be done with.

I make the necessary apologies and everything calms down. Returning back to my room, I found myself lost in thought as per usual. Something along the lines of having all these different tools and technology and not using them, but instead using the “when I get back from work, I am usually just very exhausted” and then proceed to de-stress game the rest of the night away. How the heck am I supposed to achieve dreams like this?

So I make a quick life plan. Usually I’d be in Destiny, making a name for my Guardian (if this is above your head, just ignore it, to be honest) but I figured I’d do something different for the next couple hours.

SO I power-up the graphics tablet I newly bought about 4 weeks ago and put it to work.

And it made me feel great. I was even jamming to some nice slow mellow tunes which usually helps me focus my attention and thoughts into the task at hand. (Spotify is my bae like that…)

And then my Dad returns back from work.

And enters my room to say a few things and hash out a new argument, and just like that… all the motivation, all the art, and positive feeling and music, they stop.

And I’m back to square one, where Tuesday is nothing but a shitty day in the week.

Not quite a Drag Monday, but Not as cool as the rest of the days in the week.

Bah.

Half the year has trailed on and here I am, back again, to the piece of internet haven I have learnt to hide my thoughts in.

Searching my emotions, it appears I have missed this… this blog, and writing out emotions in general. In the six months between ‘Nightmare and Daydreams’ and whatever this ends up being, I’m actually happy to be able to say a lot has happened.

And yet. Not so much.

Retrospect reflection is due.

So, I’m not sure if this is going to be a bit of a weird one, but I would like to believe that I have learnt some new stuff. Or learning some new stuff.

Either way, I am going to spend the rest of the week diving into some or all of the things that have occurred and possibly, anything that I’ve have learnt in the mean time.

I can’t promise you a happy story. But I can give you a story, nonetheless.

There lies a certain weariness in the sky,
blackened by the drab wearing, ink coloured clouds,
rain beating the earth in fury,
thunder and lightning lashing out,
nature at war with it’s very self.

I.

…set on the mountain against the wind,
alone with my hands to cover face,
clothes and cover ripped apart
as the air bellowed it’s frustration at me,
bending down to gather and protect the –
broken up future as it lay weeping at my feet

On my knees.

Fear gripping my heart as I cradled it,
greeted with fire and ash as the ground rolled under me,
soot in the air and burnt dust on my tongue,
fingers on the electronics but all i get is the dialing tone
So I look up to the sky and then behind me

Bodies laying on the floor in pieces…
Bodies rolling in the fire, brief instances…
Teeth gnashing from the pain

They all look really familiar,
but it can’t be… can it?
Could it?

//

The sun streaming it’s warmth in 4K,
windows open to usher in life.
Eyes opening to greet the body
laying across mine in intimate embrace

I.

Can’t recall her face but her smile…
even as my whole wall yields before her
Her hands leave my chest,
her finger touches my lips,
and a current travels down my spine.

I want her.

My name resonates through the walls of the house,
and I’m found at the top of the stairs,
surveying the familiarity of faces looking at me.
They smile, and their pride in me,
straightens my back enough to walk down confidently.

Assuredly.

Certain that nothing could top this moment,
I feel a hand around me,
and I’m led by my future onward,
face to face to meet the creator.
Bright lights as I’m warmly welcomed home.

And I see them in the distance,
the two of them,
smiling and waving and calling me home.

I am home, I am home.

//

I wake up to stare at the ceiling
as cold sweat rolls of my head.
A heavy sigh escaping my mouth.

I am home.
And not home.
And before I get the chance to relive the last,
I am dragged back under by the sweet whisperer.

The tape plays again.

And I go back to the beginning.