Dreams.

Dreams come,

They come from anywhere

Shadows from a memory distant past,

a fleeting breeze.

Perhaps a beam of light

hitting the window at an angle.

We do not know 

but everyday we try to make 

our dreams

into reality,

We live to make things occur,

We live to change,

morph

evolve

the world around us

make it 

ours

leave

our

print

When we do not,

When we ignore our dreams,

We start decaying inside

We feel the pain

Because we fight something that should be

Because we fight what we have to do.

This is why dreams

must

never 

be

forgotten. 

Summer: The Lost Girl!

So yesterday I was walking back home after one of the nicest burgers I had in a while. The Falafel burger at New York's Best blew my mind away, and no they did not pay me to give them this advert, although they are welcome to give me a free burger next time <3. But yes the burger was out of this world, never expected in a million years for it to be so good, especially since I am not a big fan of Falafel.

Anyway I digress, yes I was walking home, tired from a very long day ( I will get to that in an other blog post). While waiting on the bus stop I eyes a gorgeous girl, who was vividly lost and panicking, so like any good citizen I look at the ground and kept myself to myself. Something which I am ashamed of having done, because the poor girl then came up to me and started asking me directions in very fragmented english. She was sounding very panicked and kept trying to explain that she needed to get to Marsaxlokk, which was around 2 hours bus ride away, and since it was at the end of the day buses were not passing as frequently. Not to mention the insanity of Isle of MTV. 

Me feeling guilty of not having made the first step and tried to help her even though I realized she was in distress, I told her I will help you get there. I stayed talking to her and have a really wonderful conversation. That frankly put a lot of things into perspective for me.

I will not give you the details, however she was a foreigner who came to Malta so that she could find work. She had made a contract with someone back in her country allowing her to work in Malta for 4 euro 50 cents per hour. Something that she was over the moon about, working long hours yes but she was happy. Why? Because back in her country she was making 1.50-2 euros an hour.  She is a European citizen, yet what she was describing to me happily, her dreams her aspirations. Were so different from mine, her way of thinking so simple and happy go lucky. I felt that she was being used, working long hours as a waitress so that she could make some money and go back to her country and buy a car. Yet, at the same time, it was her way of life, she is young, she choose not to go to university, she choose a different path. 

This made me make a promise to myself, I am going to try harder to talk to those random people that I will be meeting. Especially since now I am forming part of ESN Malta, which I am sure is going to get me to meet all these amazing new people who have incredible backgrounds, simple back ground, just a story to tell.

I regret not taking her number or contact, so that I could listen to more of her story, but then again maybe it was for the best. It was such a fleeting moment, a gust of wind that took me on such a discovery.

Sensation

I exploded,

I was every where,
I was air,
I was dirt,

The land and the sea,

I felt them,
I felt the stone,
I was dancing,
I was driving,
I was drinking.

I exploded,

Outside my body,

I felt the need and urge,

To do it all,
Be it all,
I was everything,
Yet I was nothing,

I was a god,

Yes that is what a god feels like.

For that brief moment,
For that instant of time,

I could feel,
I could act,
I could think,

Like a god.

Myself.

I have this constant fear of slipping out of my skin, this fear of not being able to contain my consciousness inside my body. Yet with this fear, I also have this great desperate need to do everything and anything, to be who I am.

I have this state of mind, when I am in my, most panicked state, to be the person who those next to me want me to be. I cannot be myself, no matter how much I try, no matter how much I work for it. I have to be someone else, I have to be what makes those around me want me to be. Being able to define who I am is very hard.

I am a man dancing off the walls of a building, I am a writer, a poet, an activist, a leader, a public speaker, a scientist. Yet, what happens when I am entirely on my own. With nothing but my deepest fears, and my inner most thoughts.

I am terrified, I am scared of myself, of who I am. Why?

Why?

Because I am absolutely and utterly insane, I see myself doing everything that I could possibly be doing at one single point in time. I see myself exploding, and imploding, I think of what the past, present and future should, might or could be. Thinking is a luxury, yet it is also my torture, my prison yet my freedom.

Why?

Because almost every single time I opened up my insanity to others, they are terrified of me. They are terrified of who or what I am or could be. They do not accept me, they reject the identity of what I could be.

This is why I became the person that you want me to be, I am your lover, I am your best friend, I am your follower, I am your leader, I am your enemy, I am a friend, I am drunk, I am a philosopher, I am what you need me to be.

Yet.

I found poetry, I found prose, I found writing.

When I write, people do not find it terrifying, they do not find it scary, they find me interesting, attractive, sometimes even inspiring, perhaps it is so. Yet, I still cannot even start to scratch the surface, of what I am.

I rarely praise myself, I rarely put myself up on a pedestal because, that is indeed going against all I am striving to be. Yet this one time I am allowing a luxury of doing this and being, 'myself'