Blog of a Forbidden Dreamer

I was never part of the stage; it has always been a part of me. A part that always left me feeling I was firm footed and that I have it in me to stand my ground, to stand and make a point, to express what is true and honest and to inspire. I could have always been a shadow among the audience who watched and applauded and criticized. I am not afraid to show my face and to let people know that it is me speaking or writing. I’ve always wanted to show them that it is I, one among them, who always walks with them or cracks jokes with them who is singing or speaking or dancing in front of them or writing for them to read and realize that it is in everyone’s capacity to do something amazing, to do something inspiring and artistic. People needn’t be an intellectual to be creative, to make the world a better place. Even the moon that is just a sphere of dust and rock becomes magical at night reflecting off the sunlight that falls on it. It wouldn’t have been this spell-binding and soot...

Pain!!! My innards screech for the sake of my powerless and lifeless vocal cords… They haven’t lived for a while. If the theories of evolution ring right, then probably I might evolve, like once the reptiles did; and my sound shall sink into abeyance. In that soulful silence my starving soul shall burningly eat into my last living cell for a knot of existence. And after that miniscule nanopart also wane away into exhaustion and in desperation send out to the already half-dead brain a parting, feeble signal of farewell; my heart shall stop beating and brain shall black out. The question is, will you leave my body, Soul? Or will you manage to cling on an hour longer waiting to imprint this death, all those reeling images from my past that my brain has been endlessly playing out in my inward eye since hunger began to ruthlessly claw fiercely onto my intestines, gashing them open for death? All those images from my happy-sad past? I remember my Professor, with a twinkle in his eyes a...