The Real Jewels in your Heart’s Core

20130126_Burkina_Faso_00024-382_extra_big                   Women have been in love with glittery objects from the very beginning, perhaps from the stone age it self came into existence, so its pretty much obvious meant for women; jewelries, colors and costumes. These are what makes them look beautiful and looking beautiful has become the  most essential repertoire they have to keep up with.

Diamonds as we are all aware of, the most precious stone in earth and women’s biggest ardor for, she wants to be on it, in it and win it. It’s a dream to accomplish to some and a dream come true to the other. Diamond has always caught the attention. They are rare, hidden deep underneath the earth maybe that is why it is so precious to be found, expensive to win upon and grandstands anyone who gapes through admiring each facets but not just anyone  agrees to that.

These are the children of Africa. Children toiling for you and your diamonds.This might sound preposterous and beneath contempt but it aces truth. Polished diamonds aren’t from the hands of experts on front but from the shackled hands behind the scene. Yes every time when you wish your boyfriend or your hubby could astound you with a diamond ring,  these children pays the price. People who greed money out of our desire is taking advantage working as a middle man illegally abducting young children away from their parents, drugging them, manipulating them and luring them to get into diamond mines all day long with very unhygienic and lethal condition of environment. Most of these children dies tragically out of accidents, succumbed to sickness and some are murdered brutally.

These kind of illegal activities are passed out by rebel groups so government can’t do much nor can the UNICEF, it has adapted as a chain of life but we can break that, slackening their chances to be affluent. As one human to another, I personally think if we are comprehensive about the matter we should act. People might ask what can we do about it?”, I’ve pondered and I think there’s a lot we can do. No wonder we look beautiful and obvious the hardship behind it chisels the feminine glamour but i wonder how we will feel beautiful. We don’t need a wardrobe of jewelries we have the real jewels in our heart to have enough of what we have to save these children. Having enough, lessening demands; these can be the small efforts that we can try out with but it will go a long way to make a huge difference in these children’s life. Ecstacy we will procure from our genuine effort, whether big or small will give us the beauty that we can feel our whole life.

Remember your effort can lessen these children’s ordeal. They are like ours to care for. Be a part of the change.


The Labyrinth

Nobody takes a leap nor can. Dream is a passage without attending to any shortcuts, you cannot even delude yourself of that. Dream just happens to be one way road. Amid “the before and after” dream, it’s a labyrinth i’ll be walking at. One minute I see it all before me and the other minute, I am just shoved away, way back. Does this ever happens to anyone of you in pursuit of your dream?

Delirium, agony throws away their cards simultaneously crumpling you every second that you would want to let it go because you think you can’t take the takes of having it land beside you. That would be a terrible, feeble excuse and you at a generous fault.

It’s the only peace i have ever known and I do want that more, probably until my last breath. I close my eyes and start believing in the modesty of  modality. In life, the first point where you’ll start from will  give you nothing but that’s everything you’ll ever want to remember. I want to feel the magic so bad, so hard, drizzling over me like a rain after a long, frazzling and scorching deserts I’ve passed through. It would be so, so exotic that it will even taste so exquisite whenever i speak of it, just like now, writing down all of this, it feels like I can just caress the existence of the excelling dream right under my palms and even rejuvenates as my nerves, cells and everything that I’m made of feels, born once again.

It’s the divinity of the Labyrinth but I guess I’m still on my grounds and the way up is awaiting. So i need to put an effort. Hard will just drive me close enough and that’s not enough, I need to work harder and to the hardest. I guess you guys have understood that dreams are hard, but that should never stop you, ever. You should be that one bad ass who will tear down those walls. It’s the preciseness in the true measure of a dreamer.

I guess Dream can perform Miracle and I’ll buy this one thing only 🙂poppy_sketch_2__10150__daily_painter_textured_popp_1d004297bfa534f40e95de80982a83ae


It’s more important to prove it to yourself than to others.

I never thought I would want to be a writer. I always aimed what seemed so huge in our conservative society, for instance a Doctor, which appears to be too formal that somehow it just wouldn’t digest the word itself to me, more like a cliché or a category of what people considered possessing sharp brains like the Chartered Accountants, while debits and credits, those cash flow or whatever the tables are called and the algebra figures, the stats didn’t really complied or obeyed to gravitate into my brain or was it I that couldn’t solve it? Either ways those weren’t really my forte.
I felt like a looser, my math teacher not giving heed to how I’m so weak and I would feel so low. I cheated most of the times during Math and Accounts exams. I wasn’t smart that’s what they say 😦 and my life sucked pretty much. If I’m not smart enough, how am I supposed to subsist the lapse of quality life? I’m going to be trampled all over. My life became tremendously horrifying garnered with qualms, anxiety and anxiousness. My life ended up at the verge of precarious treads, but like all normal not-smart-folks, I held it inside pushing myself away like I was never there. I guess that helped for a while- I mean yeah, for a while and I would even forget it at times with not often-appearing-euphoria as an excuse that I’m the happiest person, but no; it’s not. That was just a clincher and wore off in no time, again forging a metaphor.
It would be a shame if I dissuaded myself from not averting the way it had come to me because I knew full well that these world is full of idiots but at least they would try and yeah most of them had tried their ass off but the smart ones outwit them so easily that they wouldn’t even stand a chance. So what rights do I have to feel myself streaming through miseries, not even trying to make it through? Life had been hopeless, seeing other people win the battle and that wouldn’t make me happier at all. How can that idea dry my pain but against my consciousness my hands never stopped writing to it. I wrote diaries, filled them up like I didn’t care but I felt a relief breezing past through me as I interpreted how stupid life had made me, reinforcing my crooked philosophy about how world cherished only smart people and the ones who wasn’t, were left behind. It occurred to me, writing made it easier to get accustomed to it than talking to people. It didn’t judge me and it felt like my need to be heard was fulfilled.
I remember my friends, some of them; the so-called-smart-ones too have asked me to write letters to their friends, parents and sponsors, articles for annual school magazine and even their sick leave applications for them and without hesitation, I would do it all. It was pretty conspicuous, I loved it. I would sit in the library corner and devour books. The first book I’ve ever read was Enid Blyton’s “Famous Five (all series)”. The books were about five friends looking for adventure and they did had it but more in a mysterious way and solved them all like detectives which was pretty much impressive, actually all books would have impressed me but then I wasn’t aware. I loved the whole Literature thing, which is almost a magic blending word’s condiments producing a spice into a whole idea that could overwhelm people. I never complained, instead let it in fervently. Maybe I went through all those times to get me to this one. I wasn’t smart but I wasn’t a fool either, I just didn’t know how to portray myself back then based on what I am not good at. I can’t even top myself as an expert when the congregated thoughts conflates and made sense but all I know is, If I love it I’ll learn to do it right gradually. People say life will choose you, but I don’t think so. There need not to be a faculty to prove yourself smart, you need to follow your heart, what you love doing and that will be your choice. I and my life turn out to be the blend of the perfect me in it and the reason life was there. I believe we hit the road to set a path.
Everyone has a road to walk on it. Nobody has the right to judge what you’re to be but you yourself need to decide what you’ll be. You need not to worry about what you won’t be able to do but focus on what you love to do. I guess that’s what I did; I followed myself who lost her way. My love and obsession for writing led the direction towards myself, not as smooth as it could have been but I know nothing is easy and it never was but I think I’ll make it because I’ll use my metaphor -” If it ever gets hard, I won’t look over a distance from where I’m standing at but will take steps slowly that will bring me closer to my dream because right here I’m safe, I need not to run but just follow. It’s more important to prove it to yourself than to others.”
I’ll keep my nose to the grindstone and this is my niche for writing…

"I don't know, but it's better this way"
“I don’t know, but it’s better this way”