Urge kills as much as it fuels you

Every day I used to crave for an urge, an urge so strong I would not dare go against it. I craved of what was a fallacy all along.

The third quarter was the death of a distant dream I once craved at the start of the school year. This quarter did not permit the rebirth of the 13-year-old lassie who once lived in a shell of blazing fire that continually seeks validation. It is a quarter that spoke to me to keep things that only fit in my pocket; all the keepsakes I can only bring. It armed me with the comforting touch of a mediocre I once was during the last quarter of the school year.




Writing, as much as I adored it was something that I truly struggled with during this quarter. Spending time thinking about what to write rather than writing is yet again a line that conveys what this quarter was all about. Blogs kept piling up that even the other side of the hourglass is full of the sands of time. Draining may it be, I managed to let the blazing fire glow. Slowly, I emptied the checklist and stopped the ticking of the bomb from bursting out.  I emptied a bowl of grapes that the sun made warm to remind myself that sometimes it can be bitter and sweet and it's fine as long as there is togetherness. 


I've outgrown in my bed for the past months learning that sometimes the fire burning within me will not always be ablaze — Third quarter taught the coward in me to look in the mirror despite not seeing much of the future and fragments of what was once a dream, to continue having hopes and holding shattered hopes, and to genuinely uphold the art of standing still. 



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