i killed myself yesterday.


I killed myself yesterday.

the sun crept out from behind
the blue lilacs
like flakes of peaks beyond
the cityscape.
my hair started
to rot away at a slow pace
while the vultures flocked
for my remains.

one by one
they took me apart
and safely stole
what was essential to me
almost as if
this was their fate.

to decide my fate.

and they left.
i got up and collected
my remains
the essentials
destined to fate.

little did they know
what is essential is invisible
to the eye.

luck.


and cracks seeped in,
the land trembled away,
and a phoenix rose from
the ground.

they cried
“what a luck.”

and under his
heavy patient breath
he smirked
for he didn’t remember
the last time he ever
stopped digging up
his luck.

Don’t be that guy


You know that one guy who wouldn’t write his first blog post because he’s waiting for that perfect topic that’s going to make him famous?

Or that guy who never shows you his amazing movie scripts because they’re not ready yet?

Or that one girl who won’t stop complaining to you about how un-perfect she looks?

Or that girl who wouldn’t go up to make her pitch because it’s not the right time yet?

Or that one guy who wouldn’t take a damn risk because the conditions are not right?
Or the market isn’t ready?
Or he’s waiting for a better opportunity?
Or he’s just unlucky?
Or bad things always happen to him?
Or he can’t take another rejection?

Yes. Don’t be those people.
Please.

Because there’s never any perfect, ready, right time, right conditions, right market, better opportunity, luck, or anything like that.

Especially, luck.

I miss the star


Stars. Hundreds of stars. Sometimes, even million.

I miss lying down on the ground and seeing those stars. When the grass used to be the comfortable mattress, and the chill in the air used to awaken every sensual part of you. When I used to wonder looking in the infinite mass-less space whose non-existential presence I still question. The hours ticked away, and the birds went silent, with the occasional chirping of their hungry ones, and I still laid there, just looking. Was it true that those are our ancestors? Or that rare falling star will fulfill my wish? It never did, though. Maybe it was too busy with others’ wishes. So many weak people asking for that ‘one’ wish. It must have been really busy. But how did it pick one out? Destiny? Or some random algorithm to find out who deserved it more than all the others? Maybe it’s the instinct of the star.

But you know what? I don’t care if it didn’t fulfill my wish. Or in case, anybody else’s also. It’s still a star, in fact a rare falling star, and people still crave for it. It’s still breathtakingly beautiful and can’t be forgotten anytime soon. The sight of that star makes you feel life is worth living for. Every small moment of that beauty makes your living justified. No matter if it comes once a month, or even a year, it’s always surprises you, amazes you, makes you feel needy and bring out your emotions for what you really want and desire.

I miss lying down on the drew covered grass and see that falling star.

I miss my falling star.