Almost 

“I guess I’ll never learn to say goodbye, or even stay in touch.

And I guess that’s the drill, the distance becomes goodbye, 

but that’s not it.

I’ve always been distant and I’m always going to be.

I’ve always had the universe or a void or something, I don’t know what to call it between myself and people.

There this empty space that no one can cross to get through to me.
I guess that is why where my hello ends, goodbye begins because I’m never the one to keep check or text or call. Call me selfish or self centered but I’m too busy doing my thing, 

until one day something reminds me of you.

Even I would call me selfish if I were you, it’s okay.
I guess I’ve always been at the peak of a mountain, one that everyone’s trying to climb but get too tired and walk down again.

I guess that is why, no one has found me yet, and I guess that is why I’ll always be with the head in my clouds, wondering what to do with all the silence, 

almost forever.

Almost.” -Marlyn Pereira

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Book love?

Words bounce from the pages and filter into my mind like images in motion, 

and everything around me suddenly stops.
I am in a place I don’t even know existed, but it’s beautiful.

There is wind without wind. There are mighty dragons around me. I’m walking through the mental turmoil with Frankenstein, or I am running with Elizabeth Bennet to Netherfield. The flight in ‘The Book Thief’ is one that I took and Max is my angel too. I’m the tension in Lés miserablés and the Child in Blake’s Songs.

I have also been Lochinvar, and abducted a bride.

I also am listening to the nightingale and wondering if this is a dream or am I asleep?

I was the kite and the mud and the journey in “Kite runner” and when Hassan died, I died too.
I’m fighting the case in “How to kill a mockingbird” while I sneak into my neighbours house too. 

I run away like Margo and I find myself a miracle like Landon. I also am Iago, plotting a plan that will unfold like a perfectly folded paper, when left loose.

I’m also the message in a bottle found. I’m the letters in “Colour Purple” and I’m punished like Shylock. 

I’m Frodo and I’m on a quest while I also am Thorin waiting to take back my home.

I live in the shire like Bilbo does, a complete Misanthrope, and I relish and savour the world as differently as Gus. 

All this, I am, when I’m right here. In one spot, in one corner of the world, like a spec of dusk floating somewhere, yet paralysed.

All this, I am, when I’m reading.

When the world embrace me and take me into another dimension where reality is just the past or somewhere else entirely. Obscure, I know, yet 

I am all this when I’m static in one corner, huddled up with a book and a cup of hot coffee

and people ask me “Why do you read so much?” -Marlyn Pereira

Black memories 

It did not feel taxing, 

the fourth time,

or shameful,

the way 

your hands 

went down

to parts 

of me

even 

I wasn’t 

acquainted with 

yet.
It did not 

scare me 

anymore, 

It did not 

make me 

want to 

leave 

this body.

I had left

already.

This, 

these hands 

and feet 

and these eyes 

are just

vacuum and skin.

I did not 

feel disgust 

the tenth time, 

in that corner 

in the dark.
I did not 

want 

to run away 

I was home.

I did not 

want to escape.

There 

was

none.
I did not 

feel the pain

the seventeenth time,

when 

my mouth 

slit open 

and bled 

from 

too much 

force.

I did not 

feel 

the need 

to wipe the blood 

off my 

thighs.
I did not 

feel the pain

or the sting 

of your nails 

cutting through

the insides 

of me.

As a matter of fact 

I did not 

feel

anything 

at all.

-WANDERER // B l a c k M e m o r i e s 

Best friend.

When I was a little and somewhat losing people, I thought having a best friend was about having “my person”, somebody I could have forever, someone who would be there for me, someone who would never fight with me or turn against me.

It was a pretty magical notion to be true.

I thought having a best friend means constant contact, conversations everyday, good days everyday, and I thought it meant having the world in one person, but reality is complicated to comprehend and yet it’s beautiful when you finally do.

I recently came to terms with the idea that a best friend is in fact not somebody who will never ever argue with you, it is somebody who will fight with you the most, whom you will want to punch out of anger, but you will overlook the rage and choose to understand, whom you will forgive a million times if needed.

It is somebody who cannot always be there with you, everyday, but when you need them they leave the world behind. It is somebody who constantly annoys the hell out of you, makes fun of you, but respects you the most. It is somebody who has the courage to forgive, to reconcile, to build from the broken again, to make a home from what is left.

It is somebody who gives meaning to the word ‘forever’

Somebody beautiful told me something I wish I had understood long ago, that best friendship is about quality and not quantity with regards to time, memories, or conversations. It’s about how meaningful they make your life.

It is about having people who you can go back to, regardless of the time chasms, no matter how bitter the end, 

and when you do, 

it’s just the same as it was where you left off.

-Marlyn Pereira

Reason.

“I realised something very important the other day. 

If your reasons for doing something are anything but yourself, it’s nothing more than a compromise, it’s not genuine and it’s obviously not right.

Even if it does feel like the right thing to do right now, somewhere down the line it is going to feel like a mistake. 

If your reason is something else than your own will, or someone else then there is a possibility that you will be lost once that reason goes away.

You see, you are letting somebody else, something else, be the fuel to what you do. 

You are putting power into something else, power to control you, your mind, your actions and that I think is very unhealthy.
Don’t do something because someone expects it of you. If you can’t write a poem today, don’t. If the charcoal won’t etch your mind on the canvas, don’t, leave it white. You don’t have to do it because someone asked you to. Let things flow. Don’t agree to force yourself. 

Let your reason not be others wants but let your reason be genuine.
In simplest words do something because you want to, because its an energy flows from you instead of you forcing it out 

Do it because you feel like, not because someone asked you to.
It is so important to realise that your reason has to be yourself, because if you don’t do things because you want to do them, regret is going to clog your nerve someday so bad, that life will seem like rope around the neck.

It is important to be your own reason because everyone can leave someday, but you’re stuck with yourself.

You need to be your own reason because you matter, your dreams, your aspirations, your desires matter. 

You deserve to do what you love.” -WANDERER // Do what you love Because you love it 

Sunshine and Shadows 

“There will come a time when peace will seem like a long lost luxury. In the middle of chaos you will find yourself standing, lost in no thought specifically but you will feel like you’re concrete, you will feel numb, and you will begin to question whether being this stoic is even human?
There will come a time, when you will have no idea what to do, and you will come back to reality after zoning out a thousand times, from some moment you wished you were in, or one that you wished you never lived through. 
But remember that these days of feeling indifferent or rather inhuman, don’t last long. They are demons, shadows that leave remnants of themselves through the sunshine, but although they exist they don’t overpower. 
These are parcels that come along with life for us to learn that the sun and the shadows are metaphorical balanced entities that explain life quite simply, if you pay attention. 
They explain that the good and bad are equally present in life, either cannot be eliminated, and that there is always something to make back from either.

Friend.

I look at these strangers around me, 

faint giggles and jokes.

I’ve known them long enough for me to realise I don’t. 

Suddenly, they fade with the wind, and I’m alone in the room, 

alone with a glass before me.
The curtains let the sun kiss the alcohol in it,

and the bottle shies away.

With my head resting on the table 

and my hand stretched out, 

the perfect drunk, 

I watch the friend I tend to rely on, 

when I have no way with my mind.
I down the drink I was but, supposed to enjoy, because it’s too much to take. My mind is wandering off wildly, and it’s not an adventure. It’s a suicide trip. 

I feel my thoughts suffocate me, 

I feel the silence, the emptiness turn into a rope around my neck,  and I open the bottle, 

consume my cure entirely, 

trying to find transitory liberation.
The last drop of alcohol mixes with my blood 

my eyes turn heavy with the weight of the unsaid and unexpressed, maybe the high too, 

they close after a long time of being ajar,

and I’m finally relieved. It has come to a stop, for now.
Until next time, fears.

Until next time. -WANDERER // E s c a p e s