Broken, happy stories.

Broken, happy stories.

Yes, I named the character of this story after my favorite character on Game of Thrones. I had this concept in my mind for a long time and I like to believe I did it justice. Do you think I did? Tell me in the comments section below. (Maybe tell me your favorite GoT character too.) Enjoy, lovely people!


You know how everyone has a passion, something they love so much, and sometimes they pursue it and make a career in it? That wasn’t Tyrion. He was a dry-cleaner who loved wearing fancy clothes that fit him perfectly. His favorite were solid colored t-shirts that never looked fancy but made him feel like a part of this world. Solid blues on days when he wanted to fly and see the world with a bird-eyes view: a small dotted Eiffel tower and flickering lights and their messages. Pitch black when he wanted to disappear into the darkness and let emptiness take his place. Bright reds or blood reds depending on whether he wanted love or revenge.

Of course, Tyrion never earned enough to be able to buy these fancy clothes. So, he would just wash denims and suits and while his eyes wrinkled and smiled at the sight of these beautiful pieces of clothing, his lips never budged. They were always a straight line. That’s when he came up with the concept of being broken and happy. Did I forget to tell you he loved poetry and weird concepts that made half-sense?

If given the chance to make and wear fancy clothes, I believe he would have the most poetic ones. His wardrobe would be filled with white t-shirts with black eyes and a collar for a smile, or suits with pinstripe lines in the shape of a map that guided you home.

But like I said, Tyrion wasn’t one to follow his passion. He would wash clothes every day and not smile. He would iron on some days and hide his tears in the folds of the clothes. On other days, he would grin so wide, the earth would seem small in front of him. He was happy despite being broken. He did other things that made him happy – like teaching his daughter Salsa on Saturdays and playing football with his friends on Sundays. You can see why he was obsessed with his concept: You can be broken and still be happy.


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The thin line.

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“Condemnation without investigation is the highest form of ignorance.” – Albert Einstein.

Criticism is healthy as long as it is positive and constructive. Things can seriously get messed up otherwise. There is a very thin but fatal line between positive and negative criticism. Positive motivates, but negative demotivates. One builds, whereas the other can destroy. Positive upgrades, and negative degrades. A change in tone, a wrong choice of words, or outright complaints can push positives over the thin line.

I have seen both sides of this coin, and the negative is not as pretty as the positive. It is draining me out, feeding on my doubts and insecurities, but I know I have to stay strong. Whenever any of my friend is upset, I always promise them one thing. That it will be okay. Wise men say people always have the solutions to every problem except their own. I have to believe it will be okay, and so do you.

Here is the deal.

[bctt tweet=”When you grind, your mind starts progressing. The spark of creativity burns all doubts or fears. ” username=”MSpirals”]

The light at the end of the tunnel appears. When you awaken the fire inside of you, everything lights up. But the darkness can return if the doubts or fears are called upon in an inconsiderate way.

You have to learn to digest a few brutal criticisms here and there, but you have got to learn to believe in yourself and keep the fire burning if the darkness tries to rise. It will not be easy, it will definitely not be over soon enough, but it will end and as once said :

“In three words I can sum up everything I have learned about life: It goes on.” – Robert Frost.

A healthy mind can handle criticism. It blossoms because of it. You have to, too. Positive or negative, keep improving yourself. Be the best versions of yourself. Learn to take criticism seriously, not personally (Hillary Clinton). Be positive. The flower will blossom, just work till the right season comes along.

And to all you critics out there, do what you got to do. Just be a better version of yourselves at it. Thank you, too.

Criticism should not be out-right disapproval. Make sure not to cross the thin line.


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How to: Be poetry.

What makes you poetry? Let me know in the comments section below. Enjoy!


Hold a paw, and wake up to the woof or the meow of a furry cushion.
Travel, to the closest grocery store open past midnight and buy that candy you used to love as a kid.
Feel.
Let your chapped lips, which has been a Chandler (Straight, but seemed to be otherwise), light up into a crescent moon more often than you used to.
Cry into the lap of your pillow, don’t deprive your cheeks of the season of this rain.
Pick the scab on the wound you got as a hopeless romantic, and fall in love before it heals.
Realize that you have rhyme and reason in this universe.
Find the fire of your soul and let it burn your regrets as it crackles a song into your veins.
Show kindness as a first language in your degree of life. Water a plant and feed a duck for you never know what they’ll do to you in a parallel universe.
Be you.


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Travel bird.

Instagram handle: @myspirals


Go to places,
Find mountains that remind you of people,
And seas that make you forget everything.
Discover old streets that whisper stories,
and broken buildings that look like broken bones.
Sleep out the day, learn to love the dark.
Sleep out the night, learn to love the light.
Close your eyes and feel the wind,
and rustle like a tree under the burning sun.
Giggle under the stars,
and among the ruins,
Just like the people who lived there
A long time ago,
probably did.
Paint your passports,
and cut in your bucket list,
instead of your wrists.


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Wake up call.

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More often than not,
I’ve slept my problems away.
My problems have been
Like a beast in the dungeon,
Like a dragon in the caves
of the tall golden mountains
that echoes like my mind.
I’ve used sleep as a defense mechanism,
and defeated such dragons,
over and over in my dreams.
My problems have been
Like a task for me,
Like a big step that I have to take,
in order to survive,
amidst the world of flames and cuts.
I’ve used sleep to procrastinate,
and thought everything through.
Used the veil of a perfectionist,
to cover my hopes in a belief of awakening.
My problems have been
Like a clock that is ticking away.
I’ve used sleep as my fingers,
and removed the cell.

Today,
I’ve decided to wake up.


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Related post 1 : Palettes of life.
Related post 2 : It’s okay.

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