Sometimes the music sounds too loud in my ears. Or maybe it’s just that my thoughts tend to whisper and are drowned out by the notes.

Life is full of inexpensive luxuries.

Sleep evades me, then turns, and takes me. Again, again.

It just hit me now.

Words are sharp and deadly.

Words are weapons.

When I was little, I would stare up at the cloud-heavy sky with my young eyes and think, ‘They look just like cotton candy!’ And they really did - all fluff and sugar and lightness, coasting along up there, far beyond my reach. ‘They could even come in different flavours,’ I justified to myself. Bubblegum at sunrise, tangerine at sunset; licorice during a storm, lemon drop on a sunny-sky day.

‘That’s probably all they eat in heaven, too.’ I pictured the cherubim plucking the sweet sugar-spun treats from the air, and God picking which flavour and colour he wanted the clouds to be. I envisioned him thick around the middle. ‘No wonder he’s got a big belly.’ I was so jealous.

I prayed a lot. I wanted to know what cotton candy clouds tasted like. To this day, I don’t, but one day, I will.

It is dark. The blackness almost swallows you whole. Human bodies crackle all around you, with a hum like electricity. Anticipation is thick in the smoky air, it’s almost suffocating - then those first notes puncture the immense silence, like bullets, and then come the screams. Loud, loud, loud. Human forms carrying the music make their way onstage - them and the lights sear your eyes. It is then that you, the humans, and the music, are most alive.

Brings you closer to your last.

I believe that the most fulfilling things in life are not visible.

Like music - your eyes cannot quite capture it, experience it, in the way that your ears can. So try listening to a song with eyes closed, and ears yearning.

Like the truth of words - sometimes, their being written does not suffice. Poetry was meant to be voiced; so try lending your own to a poem, and taste the flavor of each word on your tongue.

Like a kiss - soft, and subtle, stolen, and sweet. Your eyes often fail where your heart triumphs and soars. So try for a kiss, one that is not colored by sight.

It seems that living life with your eyes closed is not such a bad thing after all.

We brand people with words

we ourselves are so afraid to be.

Who knows what he could be doing.

it’s like I’m reborn. It’s that powerful.

what we have in front of us now.

but it’s difficult for me to truly live those words.

I know that other peoples’ opinions matter to me.

Maybe they matter too much.