Someone asked me the other day, “what am I doing here, does this even matter…?” So I sighed, and responded, but never spoke my thoughts into existence for them to hear

Though I think about that day sometimes and how I should’ve said something, I realise that I have you with your pair of eyes behind your screen and hopefully, even the tiniest ability to read; so I take my chances

One out of a pair of old, worn-out, gloves covered in dirt leave a rather piercing sting in my heart

It is inexplicable how the human mind processes the mundane

We have been told that little things are fleeting illusions meant to comfort the mind and delay what we were meant to do

Pardon me, but isn’t comfort the sea we wish to drown in and isn’t love the warmth of everything that feels right?

Isn’t what I’m meant to do include the simplest forms of being kind and gentle to this world and its people?

There is a list of existences that I could write about, if one were willing to read, but time is of the essence and I have yet to see it all, so I try saying what slips through the cracks

I sit in the line of a drive thru and wait for my drink and if a barista ever so kindly writes a few words; my day is beyond made

Supermarkets and grocery stores, children run through the aisles of them all

A whole-hearted series of laughter mute the stiffness of the rooms sitting in the hall of our hearts, and if seen literally, our grocery baskets

And so I think that I should grab that box of cake I haven’t had since I were in the fourth grade 

What is it about belly laughs and big round eyes that reminds us of overly sweet desserts?

A glint of hope in the eyes of all the intricate people I see standing at bus stops

Have they been living here since they were born, or are they striving to find happiness in a place they cannot call home

I hope the lady running late makes it to her only ride on time

Please don’t trip, don’t fret too much; you’ll be fine

Two strangers meet at a training they need, to get jobs to feed them, a connection starts, it sends ripples down the sea and the cosmos smiles

Two elderly ladies, never having met before, listen to the other once, but with great attention, remembering forever, “she has two kids, one here and one wherever”

Planes in the sky, boarding announcements being made, we get to stand at a place that has seen longing and attached detachments

She looks back at him, her eyes crystal and clear, the humid wind blows its way between the two and as he waves with shaky hands, crosses the road, and sees the reunion of an entire generation, he can’t help but be awfully mum

Call it ungrateful but some things stay like a moth waiting to go back to light even if it were still night

All he wants is for her footsteps to trace their way back

A man on a cycle holds one foot on the ground and balances himself as sternly as possible while he speaks with his friend, giving every expression I’ve known possible, even if his legs ache for the proper seat of a couch

Overhearing a parent decide what to make for lunch, listing out all the options that they know you’d love, tears strike your eyes as though a piece of dust floats by, unseemingly ignorant of the space it takes

God tell me a better way to wear my heart on my sleeve for I haven’t found one so to speak, tears are all that ebb and flow

Happy and sad, confused and angry, it is difficult to find anything that could ever make more sense to show than this

Sobbing into your friend’s shirt, maybe loneliness was a myth you had made to smoothen out that which felt wrinkled

The sharing of stories and food, nothing wraps better around your fingertips; that long to listen and to feed

You ask me what matters and I told you about the world and its people that twinkle; beyond repair, beyond every horrible stare, beyond calloused ribcages and what lies behind, beyond the hate we choose to define our wondrous minds

although 24 hours, 7 days and 12 months bring with them everything that feels needed and unneeded, please choose to see the mundane and the joy of ‘us’, this earth’s sky, trees and water persevering, (with happiness), despite, and watch it spark so much faith. to sense this is to sense life beyond our own, and maybe, just maybe, true living is in coexistence and as repetitive as it may sound; looking at the brighter side.