Viva Voce

Perfect World. Dear Perfect World, Where have you gone? I last saw you 6 years ago. You were really good to me, did you know that? You made me feel content as a small child and fed me ice cream every day. There was always a good day after a bad one with you, but you vanished, in a couple of minutes. I merely thought you would come back soon, but I was wrong.   You see, finding out that there were things such as suicide, murder, dictatorship and the list goes on forever; made you retreat like a small baby. Now, now, Perfect World. I do miss you and sometimes hope you will be coming back . I never wanted to let go of you and the thoughts of you.   This world is harsh, cruel ,mean and but not because of you but because of its inhabitants. We have the decision to make you come back, but we choose not to. I know your still out there, and I hope to see you again. Please come and visit soon and give us a glimpse of wha...

I gaze out to the dull saturated sky, The loud thuds have been going on for what seems like forever, Everyday I want to believe that they will stop but they continue. They fill me with fury so deep that I thrust tables and chairs at the windows hoping it will cease to exist any longer. They just become louder and heavier creating a repetitive noise within my head. I begin to burst out crying hoping they will stop ;they will take a rest, They just become more deafening and head-splitting. Today I finally gave up, I took all the rage I had for the rain and let it go The tears stains on my face finally dried up. The thuds become pitter patters and finally stopped It finally subsided, the rain was gone. She only then realised that to stop the rain, she had to stop creating it.

All I see are dusty clouds and hazy blurs of what was what we called home. It was beautiful, wonderful, and magnificent- only these handful of words can describe our home but cannot describe it to the fullest. I look beside me and I see him; my brother, sitting there, crying, mourning what we called home. Home is not just a place but a feeling. A feeling that is indescribable that words can try to contain, but just like birds in a cage, these words need to be set free and therefore are portrayed with images. These images cannot be painted, drawn or sculpted. Man and man-made objects cannot compare to this beauty but rather destroy and take the image and distort it. Home is a feeling of warmth, like the sun radiating its rays on a summer’s day on your skin, it’s a feeling of comfort that no bed can provide, it’s a feeling of serenity- no car can take you to, but just as home is not an object it can be taken away. Home was stripped out of my arms and still is lo...

I can’t believe after months and months of procrastination I finally started a blog. Now getting down to the actually point of this. I recently re-found my love for writing this year. Just like my love for art and drawing reading has always been pushed by my mum, not as much as other children, but pushed none the less. You see, I have a mind-set that when I finish reading an amazing book I can't start a new one, I hate change- let’s just leave it at that but after readings amazing stories, my best friend and I decided to write a book in grade 7. I had written a book   years ago on my old laptop and let my mum read it, and let’s just end of saying that she had a lot of things to laugh about, but strangely my book was not at all hilarious but about something serious-love. Maybe she just found it funny that I knew a lot about love and finding it for an 11 year old girl with her parents divorced. We eventually never finished our books and I decided to writ...