Everyday you’re in the same routine

So you might think that

What you see is all there is.

But this is surely some mistake

Look around outside instead.

Can’t you see there’s so much more to it?

Pay attention to what you’ve missed.

You don’t just live inside your head.

Call for me if love is what you need.

That is all I have to give

I’ll give you more than I can take.

Call for me if love is what you need,

Because I’m right here

For when you feel out of place.

Call for me if love is what you need.

You don’t have to say a thing,

There’s no need to talk through tears.

The things you can’t say,

I can already hear.

I am just one person, putting pen to paper in my room

while the world lives on outside my window.

Amidst the buzzing, the whirring, the chirping and the shifting,

as I sit here I can make time stand still.

There is only me.

Yet this isn't really where I want to be.

As I wrestle to find the right words,

I am hoping they find a way out into the world.

I am not sure how to get there,

which is why I am still here,

writing for you.

If we were having coffee, you'd talk about what you'll do. You'd think out loud as an imaginary idea cloud forms in front of you.

If we were having coffee, I'd build my own clouds too. They'd form from the words falling out of you. You'd carry on as you do, unaware how every word latches on and pulls me into you.

If we were having coffee, I'd watch the coffee steam dancing out of tune. As the dancing fades and the coffee cools, I'd take smaller sips to spend more time with you. And as the dancing slows, so it's time to go. I'd wish we had more coffee in those cups of joe.

"I see myself in a managerial role, hopefully leading a team and taking on more responsibility for managing the Chemicals portfolio," I say to the interviewer for the role of a Chemicals Analyst.

The interviewer nods, as he is supposed to, to an answer that he was expecting to hear. No surprises there.

2 weeks later, I get the job and go on the path of doing what I am told.

2 years later, I'm in an office with my manager for our monthly check-in. These meetings go the same every time. We go over my performance for the past month, he makes some remarks about the good and the bad, and we move on from there. This time, the meeting goes differently. Resignation letter in hand, this is not where I'm supposed to be.

2 years ago, I was fresh out of University, desperate for any job, because "employed" was what I was supposed to be. "Employed" gets you nods of approval instead of uncomfortable, confused silences that follow when there is clear way to label you. The lack of identity is confusing for you, sure, but it's so much worse for anyone trying to make sense of how they would judge you, and how they should treat you.

Anything is better than nothing, you think, as you spill out rehearsed answers to the Top 5 Questions Interviewers Will Surely Ask You.

This might work for a while, but you can't live a good life avoiding your own truth. Eventually, the constraints binding you into the role you've conformed to will give way to the person you were meant to be. It will happen eventually, so don't wait your whole life to figure it out.

It is not until

The rain drenches the drought that

Hidden seeds could sprout

*Happy Haiku Day*

As the night winds down, the city follows along with it. Roaring of engines by the roadside slows to a low rumble. A solo motorcycle groans in the distance. The wind whispers its quiet tune, only to be interrupted by the the songs of cicadas. The sun has set but the streets are glowing with their own night lights.

The city is quiet, but the sun is rising halfway across the world.

The silence is broken by the waking of the day. Birds are chirping because they made it through the night. Lights are turning back on and cities begin roaring their engines. Soon enough crowds flow in and it was like night had never even passed. The momentary quiet get lost beneath the work and urgency. There is no time for quiet when all you have are deadlines.

I shift and stir, untangling myself from the covers. The covers that kept me warm through the cold night are smothering me as room warms and the sun rises. There is a song playing in my head, and I am singing along to its melody. It escapes me the more it replays. I grasp at the scenes in my head. They come so quickly I can't tell if they are memories or dreams. I think I had a dream last night. But it disappears the moment I try to recall it.

My body is stiff and barely there. When I wake up, I don't know where I came from. My face is scrunched up and my eyes are too dry to open. I pull myself up and sit up on the side of my bed. My mind is loading like an old computer and my memories are waiting to be downloaded. I am just a body for now. No identity, no past, no memories. Please standby while your computer reloads. Time is paused, and I am at peace.

I open my eyes barely, gazing out at the door to my room. Any moment now.

Before I remember that those moments are past. That the sounds I've gotten so used to hear will never reach my ears again. The tiny, excited footsteps that have always come to wake me are just echoes in my mind. The sound of you greeting me excitedly as if you hadn't seen me in an eternity. The way you pounce on me, the first thing in the morning, to lick off any trace of dust on my face.

In my waking moments, there is a peace. Before I remember, you are somewhere I'll always miss.