The Boy Who Never (4)


He taught himself how not to lose

By never really trying to win

It was as if, I had been lurking into her mind unintentionally or without us having direct interaction; but there we made mental connection; like there lied an imaginary bridge of understanding had been built between us and I felt like I had her in front of me telling me what each of those books was about with sparkling eyes; especially her grasp for Friedrich Nietzsche. Through her sanctuary, I secretly followed suit, I found myself loved to stare at her back as it told unspoken stories. “What will she think of me?”

Thus spoke the boy who never.

That’s how the man in front of you became the boy who never


The Boy Who Never (3)


He taught himself how not to lose
By never really trying to win
Cause the only kind of love that never gets built
Is the only kind of love that never falls

Little did I know, from her stack of reading list I had a chance to know; in a way it was rather incognito, she was majoring in English Literature; even though she seemed to carry it with ease but her eyes projected the contrary; it was glaring with passion. It was her immense love in literature and her altruistic pursuit of it what I remembered the most from her. It was from the way she told the world her philosophy of life without her telling it at face value what made me knew a glimpse of her heart. But her heart held scars no one knew I could tell and I wish I could make it better instead of worse. She carried the spark in her stumbling steps. She gathered her sane from numbing in her solitary like the world had been on the other side and she walked against the gravity. “How strong is your soul? I know it cracks, it cracks badly inside.”

The Diary of a Late Bloomer (176)


Smile though your heart is aching

Smile even though its breaking

When there are clouds in the sky, you’ll get by

If you smile through your fear and sorrow

She is hurt and wounded

Dear God,

I’m afraid of what lies in store for me tomorrow and the day after tomorrow. It has been taking a toll on my emotional stability. I’m afraid whether I ever make it, there is so much doubt, will I ever reach the finish line? Do I exert too much effort on this? I want to cry, everything seems to turn sour. I need comfort even when I know, my shadow is the best company I could have at the end of the day. I’m crying my heart out, I wish someone could heal my wound. I’m hurt and I’m wounded.

Although a tear may be ever so near

That’s the time you must keep on trying

Smile, what’s the use of crying

You’ll find that life is still worthwhile

If you just smile