We bomb down civilian planes, shoot in theaters, schools, concert halls, hotels and hospitals.
We kill, maim, thinking that’s the way a point has to be put across. We kill people to protest against killing other people.
We silence, wound, orphan and widow.
We find guns more useful than words.
Bullets more useful than thoughts.
Blood more useful than ink.
We shun peace.
We encourage hatred.
We witness 9/11, 26/11 and the likes.
We witness kids less that 10 being killed in places they called their second home.
We still ignore.
We are Paris, Peshawar, Beirut, Mumbai, new York, Boston, Lebanon, Palestine, Syria and anywhere else that someone has to worry whether he’ll come home safe.
We’re the world.

99 to 18

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In 99 days, I turn 18. While I’d like to consider it a mere number but it weirdly symbolizes the end of my life as I know it and the beginning of something so new that I don’t even know how to describe it.

I’m at  a weird stage of my life at the moment. Where I don’t know how 17 years slipped by, how 12 years of school slipped by and mostly the good part of my life. I stand at crossroads, faced with choices of going with what I wanted to learn, and what I’d like to learn. I’ve come to consider myself unknown. A Marianna trench of mystery that doesn’t know the history of itself.  A dark cloud looking for it’s silver lining.

It’s seems like time has gone by and I’ve grown too slow too late. It’s weird not to encompass in words, what one has felt for days. It’s the fear of the unknown, the fear of screwing it all up, and the fear of actually regretting that I grew up in possibly the wrong way.