Clueless Ink

In my heart’s theatre..

I impatiently wander through my life, pockets gasping for money, the mind bumbling for time, and not to forget my skin for some sunscreen. Sometimes unable to look in the mirror, indulging in my love for carbs, breathing through my anxiety, I live in this rented place, this not-so-perfect person, in her idealistic head

Sometimes I dream of him, that imaginary husband, with our two dogs and two cats, living in a small garden villa. Greens climbing up our living room window ceiling, growing and shedding with the passing seasons.

Sometimes, the thoughts of my future bonus, that imaginary exclusive art I’d like to buy with it. The art with faces that resemble me, like you, like a gentle breeze. The blue color touching our eyes, the red motivation, and the whites holding it all together.

Now, I look at my ceiling; it’s a beautifully painted, cemented peace. I glance at the walls; they lack the motivation, the breeze, but they’re my whites, holding everything together – you, me, and the dreams. For those greens, blues, and the painting in my head, it’s glued.

But at the end of the day, the not-so-perfect me. Away from my dreams. Still wandering, shivering, pausing, clay-ing my dreams, traveling, failing, falling, crawling, laughing, dancing, pausing but somewhat content with the mirror, now that painting on my beautiful ceiling – it’s a reflection of me, with a few strokes of you, but mostly me

I’m that delusional woman, yearning to break free. Here I go again, maybe with a touch of a new city and a new me?