The Hazy Road

​One day. We base our lives on one days. We dream, and we promise, and we live for one days. I didn't have a one day. Hell, at one point I was certain I didn't have any more days. 9 and out of place. 10 and friendless. 11 and too quiet. 12 and walk home alone. 13 and don't know how to talk two sentences without messing them up. 14 and a slight waste of space. 15 and heartbroken and want to die. 16 and no idea what to do in life. 17 and hurts so bad I don't feel anything else. 18 and stuck, with no idea why. I don't really remember it being just a phase. There are happy parts in every story, but I think I only have the parts where I'm busy and pretending it is all fun. Somehow, it's all disappointing when it needs to matter. I'm all disappointing when it needs to matter. But to the world, nothing matters. I'm smiling. I greet back. I get grades. I help out. I exist. I am. They don't care about one days. They probably don't e...

When I told my friend, I've never memorised anything I've ever written: Neither the beginning, nor the end, He was curious, like most men are, About pointless things, which is bizarre, And asked me, "Why?" And I said, "Scars." What I didn't say was, Everything I've ever written, has been written with sadness, With pain, all stained, An overexposed negative with too faint colours, All in an attempt to make a picture. Their idea of brilliance isn't staying up nights, Because the mind refuses to stop thinking, Nor is it breaking down every fragment of life Until there's nothing good left, Nothing worth an ounce of happiness. Years of memories are lost in my head, So I don't remember why I was scolded, For being too talkative when I was 7. When I don't remember ever having friends, Or things to talk about, lies to make up. Words in my head are always out of order, Like they were when I was 8, And every...

​I don't know how it happened, but somewhere along the way, we grew up too fast. We were the '90s kids. Lost in our worlds. Not phones and Tinder and Instagram. But people, and pranks, and cycle rides, and cricket, and football, and badminton, and just playing around and racing. We sat on benches, and balconies, and rooftops, without cellphones in hands to capture the beauty of the world. We never really could, could we? We couldn't replace sleeping on rooftops, under the starry sky, wondering if now is all there is. We couldn't replace laughing so hard we felt tired, and our stories weren't about dates, no. We were questioning the simple. Looking at airplanes cut through the sky and wondering about their destinations. We'd wonder about our destination, so some other kid could one night look up and see us. Whatever happened to those air bubbles? And the tazzos? Collectible cards, and those beyblades, and saving money for them. Those small Frooti...