Haven

There's no place like home. No argument about that. But in a situation where you have to be away from home, you must have a place-like- home. For some, being in chummy with someone is a good one for those who fear being alone. A tete-a-tete about other's business is a better one for ego-maniac. I, being melancholy, found solace in my blog a.k.a journal.

With my blog, I feel safe. Free from inflicted suffering and pain. In here, I can be who I am. I can say whatever I want to say without being modest. I can be naughty with less harm. I tend to forget my philosophy to always see the good in the person and in any situation. Although I still dread misinterpretation of the intriguing mind of others, their cowardice and assuming character is no longer my problem. Unlike them, asking question and finding certainty, as much as possible, is my religion. With my blog, I can also divulge my doubts without anyone disrupting me while making my point. No birds and trees, no flowers and bees.

My journal neither has prejudice nor cowardly side comments from thoughtless fearful entity. It is a helpful catharsis that freshen me up and reminds me that there’s always a brand new day. Every state of mind ends once you contemplate and decide that the world does not revolve around me. It does not have to just to prove my worth.

I wrote a poem when I was younger about the Escape from my state of mind by daubing the pages of my journal with the ink of thought. Here how it goes:

The squared of several inches
Realizes my being
Gone from oblivion
That I made love
With ostentatious lover
Lover that piss

Once, I embrace world’s cruelty
And felt the onerous caress
Perfected by my imperfection
I kissed its reason
And likened the taste of blood
In my hand

Impregnated with cruelty
Gave birth to philosophical child
Together with its siblings
Have ruled intricately wild

The delusion is ceased
Whenever I see this squared of inches
As pure as a virgin
Its innocence hypnotizes
Let me scream the primal pain

From then, I can smile again
And face the world with gain
While the purity of the virgin
Is daubed with my ink of thought