Update on The World Past Me.

It has been just a little more than a month since I’ve last posted on my blog, and over six months, since I stopped posted continuously. This is an long, overdue explanation for that.

I had trouble writing. The enthusiasm with which I wrote had deserted me, moreover, it felt impersonal. I’ve always written because those were words that I didn’t say, and they needed to be said. They’ve always been from the heart, they’ve always been about things that I felt, or did, or thought; my writing was never about just writing- it was a means for me to express myself.

Lately, more specifically starting last summer, I ran out of things to talk about. I ran out of things to say. I didn’t know what to write. I felt that the one thing that I had with me always had emancipated from myself. What I wrote was a result of my frustration of not being able to write, not being able to feel empty after I’d written, not being able to say what I needed to say. And let me tell you, that isn’t a good place to be. Imagine someone taping your mouth when you are telling them about a very personal event, or not being able to find a recall the word that would say exactly what you want to say and your mind going in circles at that thought and you’ll know what I mean. 

Many of you may also know that it was around the same time that I started my undergraduate studies as an English major in a university about two hours from my house. of course, as a language major, I was also supposed to write a lot. My conviction in my writing only grew weaker, and the feeling of being wordless was engulfing me. I could only write for my courses. I felt that this “academic” writing was draining me of my ability to write, for myself. I wrote, a little, as I said, but they were not writings that I was satisfied with. Their purpose was simple: to keep the blog running. And in that way, an entire semester passed, without me having blogged successfully.

However, last month, at my end semester break, I decided to write anything, poetry , prose, anything that would make me write. And I started a little something. From 11 pm to 3 am, I would sit with a cup of soup or coffee at the dining table in my house, surrounded my a warm blanket and alternate between writing and watching YouTube videos. And I did write; I wrote about 7.5k words in a span of 15 days. I don’t know a lot about these stats, but the important thing is that I wrote. I wrote without deleting every second word and without closing the file in my anger and without getting distracted.

Fifteen days since I last worked on it, I have finally written something today that I am satisfied with, that makes me feel like I’ve done a good job. And it is in celebration of that that I am finally making this post, my first post in the new year that is 2017, that is making me think that yes, I will be more punctilious and adhere to blogging regularly.

Hopefully, this post today will unjinx the bad voodoo that has prevented me from writing, and hopefully, it’ll be the welcome mat for the next, and more frequent posts, on The World Past Me.

A very (late) Happy New Year to everyone. May words always be with you!



An Ode To My Blog

An ode to my blog, that turns five today, that has grown with me, always, through the thick and thin, never ending in its support.


This was the day,
about five years ago,
on a whim, pressed enter;
I’ve grown, grown. 
Along the A, 
made some virtual friends
some old and young,
hope mends, mends.
Words come to life,
worlds come to life,
in endless pursuits,
endless strives. 
Furious binaries,
some ink and pen,
everything displayed,
in my little, worldly den.
A thirteen year old,
when hesitation stalled,
now eighteen years old,
I go on and on.

And yes this blog
that grew with her,
turns five today;
motherly love stirs. 
This love affair,
sometimes broken, 
may seem unusual,
but it always repairs. 
So, I write on and on,
and on and on,
and on and on, 
and on and on.

With Just A Second Of Breath.


With just a second of breath left in me,
I’d like for the world to see,
What I am, who I’ve become,
What I’ve done, the thoughts,
That became my actions.
I want the world to identify,
the things that touched my life.
That changed my life for better or worse.
And affected those who I acquainted.
I want the world to see the beauty,
that my dying eyes now see.
I want them to smell the lovely scents,
that my nose now fills itself with.
To forgive and to forget, I want the world,
To spread the air of love and peace.
I want the world to spread happiness,
Like the happiest we’ll ever be.
The young should celebrate, the old rejoice,
saved by the dangers of this earthly life.
To spend the lovely times they’ve got,
Happily and with laughter.
I want the world to live freely,
to never be scared or hold a grudge,
For life is too short to be spent,
In pain, misery or regret.
I want the world to make mistakes,
To love and to learn,
For a heart that loves shall see no pain,
Merrily won’t it ever trudge.
So, with just a second of breath left in me,
I say, live your life. Don’t fear. Dream.

This is my random usual chemistry class poem. I hope that you like it.


 For days, the fire spread ahead, 
 Leaving nothing in its wake. 
 She came and destroyed and hurt and burnt,
 Everything in its way.
 The glass that broke seared through her skin, 
 Which made her breath go shorter.
 Blood now colors the floor red,
 So severely her leg bled.
 The heart that spew the thread of love,
 Is now broken beyond repair. 
 The shattering sound that shouts first,
 Gets quieter layer by layer.
The lips that kissed your sweat soaked skin,
 Are now cold and blue. 
 And no one leans on the body, 
 As no one has a clue.
 The amber sky goes topaz gold,
 To black and blue then yellow. 
 No bird that flies in this sky,
 No one to walk on the meadow.
 The quiet murmur in my ear,
 And the gentle wind that blew.
 We swayed so lightly on the grass,
 Beneath the mistletoe that grew.