nobody said it was easy

I learnt this lesson about five minutes ago: things are never what they seem. Sometimes this is a good thing. It is better to think of something as bad only to find out it was good, than to think of something as really out of this world, only to find that it is, but not in the direction you thought. I was hoping for something, something I hoped for a long time ago, so long I even forgot, then all out of nowhere it was as though it was coming to me, but then as I learnt five minutes ago, things are never what they seem. What I saw was a mirage, the closer I got to it, the farther away it seemed to move.

I love books, I love the vastness of the world they represent, the power an author has to transform the world using one story, sometimes not even a whole big one, sometimes even just a 700 word story. I love poetry, the undiscovered rhymes and rhythms, the tales, the music hidden in those words. And because I love these things, I have loved writing since I could hold a pen. I used to have a little book of poems when I was in primary, on its cover I put my name as an alias, just in case someone ever found it and found out how I think. In high school I got another pink book, I wrote poems in it, about love and the strange imaginings of a sixteen year old mind. I loved Okoth p'Bitek, and those funny poems of his we did as part of course work, so sometimes I tried to write like Okoth. This time I showed my little pink book to my three closest friends, after some long internal battle. Then I went to some college, and an editor friend of mine saw it, thought it nice. That was the first time the world ever knew what i thought. I was never more scared. But still I wrote, because if these things stay in the head, they threaten one's sanity. 

Last year my little pink book got lost, and a part of me went with  it, a few of my words, a few of my rhymes. I haven't written a single poem since. And those things I mentioned, they are threatening my sanity. my mind is full of half-constructed thoughts, my document folder full of unfinished work and my life seems like one big puzzle.I took on this blog six months ago, hoping that I would never turn it into another stage I act upon. There's supposed to be a lot of safety in masses, especially masses of people I may never know. But this too has become a stage, and so I have been omitting most of the things I would rather be speaking about.I've got to go back to the beginning, I've got to take it from the top. I've got to get down to the heart of the matter, try and finish those thoughts that lie half done threatening to overwhelm me. I've gotta figure out how to untangle this web. I've gotta be honest with myself. That's where the math is.

That mirage I was chasing, I'm still hopeful. What's a man without his hope? I very well know it may never be mine, but I suppose this is better than nothing at all. Playing in my head: Coldplay - The Scientist:

I was just guessing at numbers and figures

Pulling the puzzles apart

Questions of science, science and progress 

Do not speak as loud as my heart...