You'll have me

Dreams are the glimpse of truth that one tries to avoid, ignore or exclude from the life, but similar to Karma, they strike back with the force that defying them becomes impossible. How creative or diplomatic our creator could be, who leaves no stone unturned to compel us to feel every emotion that resides in the Earth, our planet, which is crowded with complex human behaviors and thoughts, yet, contains room for something as clear and pure as an ocean or as bushy and fulfilled as a grove or something that is as rich as soil. So easily it could be said that if you want to see the world, close your eyes and believe it, I rather would look into someone else’s eyes to watch my world. Someone’s eyes that are similar to brown scapolite, held with long laced eyelashes, and whose smile hop around my heart.

The thunder splashes light like an arrival of divinity, that is felt with closed eyes, and my nerves trembles in response; a grasp of threat heard by passing seconds. That’s when I woke up, touching my face to reassure, silence burning in the atmosphere. I climbed down my bed to visit the balcony to watch the playground which was the residence of 3 elderly trees around each curve, homes of many birds and a place of imagination for children. The open sky symmetric to the ground, which used to be naturally blue in the company of clouds, today, radiate gloom with the imitated redness. I stood, like a pillar that alters nothing to calm the atmosphere; angry nature had terrified birds inside their nest, silent. I calmed myself, for clarification or to express solitude; but in vain, I couldn’t even begin the root of the problem. Some may think, what’s the difference? It’s how the rain arrives, is it?

Darkness was beaming around the sky, when I ran to the ground, searching the openness for some clue, for something that I could talk it out, that’s what a girl of 8 years old does, right? I wanted to express my feelings and fears, but I was afraid, the sky was already in its angry mode. So, I went back home, shuffled my bookcase for a handy small book along with a pencil, and sat under one of the trees, though the breeze was strong, a little girl with a stuffed mind like me, can only enjoy it. Because, that was the moment when it felt like a conversation, or some encrypted reply. I looked at first page and wondered what to write, with a sight of adoration towards the sky, I said,

“This journal will represent my thoughts, it’s my diary. To feel calm, you should try too”

Wondering I wrote some words around the first page, naming it,

“Dear Diary, You’ll have me”