the making of a dream

i was adding butter into some yellow sludge called banana cake when suddenly, out of the blue, i asked my sister "what does home feel to you"

she said "this is home"

I remember the thing closest to home, is the red roses i see in paris, the chill air I felt when i stepped out of claridges

i kept stirring the mixture, my mind as cloudy as the white foam

i felt so wrong when everything is so right

"maybe someday, I'll write."

"i'll open a bakery, one section labelled homemade, the other patisserie."

"you think its hard to make a movie? even one with a small budget?"

" i think its sad to stop dreaming"

and the kitchen was suddenly immersed in the smell of a sweet answer.


dream on girl

today, i decide, its not worth it

to make pretend that its time to give up your dreams when thats the only reason why you've been living

to hurt the ones you love

to lose your words your smile your time

this might be wrong

but if its all it takes to dream on

i'll take the plunge.


we are born to forget -but only the worst and lets remember the rest.

yup. i survived another breakdown.
am currently on med and a new lifestyle.

the winter blue's been haunting a little too long
i wish spring can take the plunge and let the buds blossom so we can all be reminded how beautiful we still are

i once wrote to a girl "we are born to forget"
i am right but also so wrong
because we tend to forget the best together with the worst.
we forget the reason why we smiled
we forget the ones who deserve your love
instead poured too much time into those who threw it all down the drain
we forget we traded tears for every heartbeat we skipped
we forget how it felt like to fall head over heels for someone something some song some promise
and how good it is to be home.

it took some love from brown, some words from sherborne, a flood of confessions and some belated talk to recall the best

so for now, i'll take it easy and try to remember the rest