All in good time;

The ruler of everything we are now living in is, image. Society’s image, self-image, the quality of Instagram’s image, defined perfect standards to reach a goal image, and even a corporate’s image can change its financials, operations, and even its status and reputation. What is funny about this is that image is on the constant change, and it can be affected on daily basis and changed by random events. Let’s talk about fashion for instance, what you thought to be trendy in the past is now what you can never lay your eyes on, and what has dominated its era of popularity back in the 90's, is coming back to hit us faster than a meteor.   There is no definition you can live up to that can define you or standards of life, all you can do is try to either flow with the dynamics of the current living or resist to be part of the flow. At the end of the day, none of this really matters. The trigger to gossip and excrete certain amounts of energy towards a subject which has n...

It’s you doing you, my love. You get up in the morning for you. You feed yourself for you. You go out for you. You work for you. You play for you. Replant your presence in the world and your responsibility towards yourself. People could support your presence, and could be intimidated by it. As long as you are an integral part of a bigger picture which suits you and makes you feel well-fitted, then you are comfortable enough to be in your own skin. Start putting your head and senses to where they belong; into your own body.

My soul is on a string You have reserved my soul,  Ever since our eyes met  Placed it in a box,  Upon your desires and control.  I’m a domino of your free will,  Well-built but easy to collapse  You hold the fur ball,  While I hold my own fantasy to catch it.  My soul is on a string,  You push and pull as you see fit  Stuck in a pattern,  while hope laughs at my ignorance.

In order not to hate you, I need to love myself again. I am learning to take breaks, in between the dips of my relationship with you. You see, at the start of a connection, I usually jump in too deep, swimming into the waves of our personalities, that boundaries start fading with each common interest we endure.  We begin flowing with each other, to a point where the shore’s existence seems too unnecessary, as safety beholds in our presence. Our worlds get interconnected at our own seas, octopuses perceive our eight limbs as a threat to its survival. We merge together, as the connection raises its roof, and have us drowning into each other, begging for some air.  In order not to hate you, I need to love myself again. In order not to hate you, I need to take easy breaths again. I order not to hate you, I need to hate you, until I love you again.

Some bodies feel like home, It’s not the shell of the body, but the collection of cells familiarized with each other.  You become connected to their core in an instant, Your cells make love to each other, connecting on each level, sharing thoughts, words, soft touches and heavy breaths.   But if each cell in our bodies get replaced every seven years, then what becomes your home? my love, would my old cells teach the new ones to love you? Will the new ones agree? ————————————————————— I have read this sentence once somewhere, “The atoms that make up my body aren’t mine, it’s just my time to use them.” So tell me,  do we come from the same stardust? will my cells have the time to get familiar with yours? Are we losing each other every seven years? Or are we teaching ourselves to last?