The Man on The Wall

Waiting. Watching. Hoping. Disappointment. Despair. Depression.
The wallflower sighs.  No words to be said. Even said they wouldn’t be heard. 
A blur of colour, a chorus of laughter, life breezes by. Barely glancing at the wallflower, it dismisses the lone figure and resumes its mesmerizing dance.

Hot envy settles in the wallflower’s gut. It grows into a hole, consuming from within. Empty, the wallflower yearns. He needs…something.

With the best seat in the house, the wallflower watches them. They don’t look like they are searching for something. They just … were. They laugh, they cry, they move in time to the music on life’s playlist. Even though they miss a step, the wallflower puzzles at how easily they laugh it off before catching up with the music.

From afar, the wallflower laughs as they laugh. Maybe this time, they would actually see him and not just pass him as they usually did. Involved in their stories, the wallflower feels he has become a part of something. The space inside is filled with a feeling. This one he hadn’t felt before.

So the wallflower waits to be seen, watching for the magical moment, hoping to hold on to the new feeling for a long long time.
He waits. He watches. He hopes.
He waits. He waits. He watches.
He waits. He waits. He waits.
Slowly, the wallflower concedes to the disappointment, the despair, the depression . The black cloud weighs him down. It’s difficult to breathe.

Why be when I can’t be seen?
He might as well be invisible, the wallflower thinks to himself. He might as well disappear. He closes his eyes, leans against the wall and breathes out slowly. The space between him and the wall seems to grow less with every ounce of breath that escapes his being.
Conversation dials down to silence. Their eyes are glued to the sight of the wallflower melting into the wall. As his breath leaves his body, the wallflower gives in. He has had enough.
Transfixed, they move towards the wall, where there once stood a man.
“He’s so sad” they say among themselves.
“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful”

The man on the wall,” they call the mural. They come from around the world to gaze into the face of sadness. They stare at him for hours. Waiting. Watching. Hoping. For what? They didn’t know. But they don’t find it. Disappointment. Despair. Depression.
They’re search begins.



And That’s the Truth


There’s no way to sugarcoat it. You can wrap it in an array of clichès but in the end you’re saying no. We want to live life having people say yes to our wants, but we both now that what we want and what we need can turn out to be two very different things.

Sometimes I’m torn in two ;wanting to say no but wary of the effect of the word on that other person. (In case you were wondering, yes, I’m talking about relationships ). So what do i do? I evade. Over the last two weeks I have discovered the slippery slope that is the white lie. It’s scary how easy it is to lie! I say the words and in some deep dark corner in my conscience, I recognize the lie for what it is.

He’s a nice guy, he really is but… no! There’s no other way to put it. My sister tells me to give the guy a chance and some my friends think I’m pretty nuts but … no!

This is not saying that I’m looking for a ‘bad boy’ as they are known. The whole ‘nice guy vs bad boy’ is overrated if you ask me but there is something of merit in it.
There are two types of guys to me ;those who are grey and those who have colour.

Greys are those who fade into the crowd. They like the music everyone else likes, they wear what’s in (even if they are wearing the latest shiny supras with the ‘cool’ haircuts, they’re still grey), they don’t read. Greys are bland. They move with the crowd, and their opinions are based on what the radio personality in the saucy program said. Their not bad guys, they’re just nice. There are a number of shades of grey and this is only one of them.

Those who have colour are a tricky lot! They are more likey to be overrun by their ego and sometimes, can appear to be conformist until you look a little closer. They have a taste in music that defies time and public opinion. They read!!! They have opinions. They are not afraid to state their stand and to defend it reasonably. They have a sense of humor that goes beyond raunchy jokes.   Some are nice. Others, not so much.

For most people, you can tell if they are grey or coloured if you see them with their friends or just have a simple conversation with them.

‘Your just …grey’ is my spin off from the clichè ‘nice guy’. Then he’ll ask me what I mean and then I’ll say, ‘You and I are very different people. I’m just not the colour for you’.
And that’s the truth.            

Idle Thoughts


I dream a wistful dream that has no place in my world. A dream that would no doubt warrant a ludicrous laugh at it’s mention. I dream the impossible and play “what if”, losing myself to the beautiful thought. You might as well be on a different planet but what if?
I know who you are but knowledge does nought to quell the persisting thought. 
“What if?”

I dream of eyes the color of rich molten chocolate ; dark,silky, smooth. They draw me into their dark recesses and hold me steady in their gaze. I dare not move, I dare not breath, lest I break the spell.
Worlds separate us but for a fraction of a second, we are on the same planet, under the same sun, breathing the same air … feeling the same things? I dare not, dare I? 

“What if? What if?”
What if the world would stop spinning on its axis for a moment so we could all think straight?
What if the sun, the glorious sun, would ease up as we tried to fix our ozone layer?
What if hair would stay in place the whole day?
What if the fuse box stopped acting up and I wont have to die from a suspicious fume inhalation?
What if I find the perfect book?
What if I write the perfect book?
What if
What if