chartingconstellationsbywriting

[chartingconstellationsbywriting]

ricocheting words - 26 December 2023

There’s this certain thing of being afraid to speak

Afraid that you might say the wrong thing

Anxious of hurting someone’s feelings

But then again, by holding back what you want to be said, only hurts yourself

The words hang on your tongue

Itching to be spoken aloud

Bouncing about your mind

Looking for an escape of a way out

You would think and think and think

Writing speeches and essays for that particular person

Though it’s always just that

Written but unsent, composed but unspoken

It taunts your thoughts

It haunts your dreams

Staring up at the ceiling

Unable to sleep

Their words ricochets through your heart

But your bullets were unloaded

It wouldn’t matter if you pierce their heart too, would it?

But you hold your shot still

As you worry of the consequences it may bear upon you

Which usually seems much heavier on you than the one before you

And that’s how you’ll be written

Always the antagonist never the protagonist

You would try to take out your shield to protect yourself from the rifle of words

Even so, your barrier seem to only be able to hold up for so long until it leaves you defenceless

[chartingconstellationsbywriting]

“Smart” [1/3/2023-18:00]

I’ve always wanted to be told I was intelligent

When I was younger, I would have been overjoyed

Holding on to the compliment

Thinking it was deserved

And maybe it was

However so recently,

I’ve had my peers calling me smart

Am I deserving of it?

Have I done my part?

Being called smart doesn’t seem optimistic anymore

It has become a burden

The beautiful euphoria that would appear

Has become a blizzard during winter

A dreadful force as opposed to the bright sunlit field

“Smart” or “intelligent” has become something I’d avoid

Afraid of the hope and disappointment that will come

Perhaps in another’s perspective I’m still as smart as I used to be

But in mine, it seems as if I’ve forgotten everything that I knew

[chartingconstellationsbywriting]

Little Moments - 28 April 2023

The luminous colour of the sky when dawn approaches

The wonderful waft of the morning air

Are mostly overlooked

As we would be rushing with the time

Chasing down our list of things that needs to be done, feeling overwhelmed

Dwelling on the mistakes someone had done to us

Having the pit of darkness within us devour us deeper into it

Letting the storm sink our sail

Making us overlook the little moments

A small conversation with someone you care for

That sparks past memories that you’re both fond of

Those funny, silly ones that makes you both laugh a little, or maybe hysterically

Before getting on with the day as usual

The little things that someone does for you

That makes your eyes crinkle as you smile widely

The jokes that weren’t even funny

But makes you laugh nonetheless

Those are often forgotten when the asteroid hits you

Destroying your happiness into a million pieces

And you forget how to put it back together

Until you remember how to glue it back

Because of those moments, memories you’ve made

Until you remember the puzzle of life

That there’s always a balance between;

Beautiful moments that you’d want to garden for the rest of your days

And tragical moments you wish to bury deep beneath the ground, never to be seen again

[chartingconstellationsbywriting]

messing up [1/12/2023]

I seem to have mastered the art of messing up

Years of pent up feelings and repressed emotions

Comes back to me like a ticking clock

How much longer until I detonate?

How much longer will I be holding on?

How much longer do I have to keep up a facade?

How much longer until I say something wrong?

Relationships made, relationships broken

Another one built, another one fallen

I keep saying I’ll avoid from forming them

“I’ll only hurt myself” I always reasoned

But I keep doing it anyway

Pulled along like a net caught on a boat

How many more times do I have to keep drowning myself?

Until I found someone that could handle all of me?

Without a doubt? Without a grunt?

Where I could be myself irrevocably

Where our faults are discussed eye to eye

Where I wouldn’t feel my breathe caught for the fear in my mind

As my heart clenches and my lungs feels like bursting

And my eyes darting around searching for a reason

How many more times do I have to mess up

Until I finally do things right?

[chartingconstellationsbywriting]

The Little Things - 23/12/2022, 00:08

Sometimes what seems little means the most

As the little things is what makes something

The crinkle by the eyes of someone

Telling you they’ve smiled a lot

The slight falter of the glimmer in their eyes

When you’ve said something wrong

Telling you that you’ve hurt them

But they were quick to cover it up

It’s almost hilarious how,

How people seem to either

take notice or miss the little things

The smile that appears when someone is told “Happy Birthday”

As their heart flutters in excitement and honour

As if the sun was finally rising warming up the earth

As they were important enough to the person wishing them for it to be remembered

But also the dimmed expression on someone’s face when they are told so but still smiled

As if the sun had set in a thunderous weather and you won’t notice unless you check the time

As they have no one to spend it with

Or the person they had hoped for hadn’t done so

People would often overlook the little things

As they would often only see,

What is most obvious to everyone else as well

Though sometimes,

The little things is what tells you the most

[chartingconstellationsbywriting]

Tales Of Eudhoria: The “What We Left Behind” Chapter

A short stroy

"We had some good times, didn't we? We had some good tricks up our sleeves"

Walking In The Wind, One Direction

Summary:

A story of a former student returning to the halls of his old school as a teacher reminiscing the memories that he had made with his best friends.

Laughters, rumours,shadows of the past returned to me as I walked through these halls. I’ve never noticed how much I would miss this place, Institute Of Eudhoria until now. Walking in the halls of the place that I basically grew up in. No longer as a student but a teacher.

How I wish I could turn back the clock to the time where Daniel and I ran out of Mrs Roosevelt’s classroom because we set a tarantula on the loose. Laughing out loud not having a single care in the world. Or when Daniel and George were frantically cramming all of the subjects that they should have started revising weeks before exams started the night before while I watched them struggling, refusing to help them as I said “I told you so,” teasingly at them.

Every step I take, sparks up memories I have locked out of my mind long ago not wanting to remember what had happened to my friends. Though, I could not help but let a melancholic smile appear on my face as I reminisced.

I remember it ever so clearly like it had just happened yesterday. I was reading my favourite book for the fifth time while Daniel and George were busy conspiring up yet another plan to trick the new professor we had for history. I paid no mind to them as I have had enough detention for the term but of course I do input my ideas to them from time to time but warning them that i they were to get caught, I had nothing to do with this and the euphoric smile on their faces were apparent when their little plan had perfectly fall into place.

As much as I hate to admit it, the trick they had done on Mr Osterfield was rather amusing. Least to say he deserved it especially when he had criticised my favourite book. The smile of mischievousness and accomplishment never once left their faces as they were lectured in front of the whole class by Mr Osterfield. When our professor asked them if anyone else was involved, they said no as their eyes were gleaming towards me with a wink and I rolled my eyes at them with a small smile. However their pride was demolished as soon as Mr Osterfield said that their punishment was to clean the most disgusting toilet at the very back of our enormous school that students and teachers as such would say that as if a troll that had diarrhea and sinus at the same time had used the toilet. The expressions on their faces were priceless.

We loved our time in school. Well, mostly the memories that we had made together rather than the education part of it. However, as time flew by, our time at school shortened. It was then nearing our final examination. Daniel, George and I had been revising together courtesy of me forcing them to do so. But of course, if the three of us were to be sat together we would talk more than study and unfortunately for me, the two of them had decided that it would have been fun to tease me.

According to them, I had taken a liking towards a girl in our class. Her name was Scarlett Carter but she was called Daisy by us as most of her belongings would have something that is related to the flower. I found it adorable. No matter how much I denied it, they would insist otherwise. Their reasoning was that everytime she entered the class my mannerisms would change and I would look more brightened up or how I would sometimes stare at her “not so subtly” if that even made any sense. It all started a few days after I was partnered up with her for a project. Of course they were right about my feelings, but I was not going to admit it to them. Who knows what they would do if they knew. They would have probably went up to Daisy and proposed to her right there and then for me.

I chuckled sorrowfully at the memory. To think that the girl my friends thought I liked is now wedded to me without either of them attending the wedding.

The boys who were like my brothers. The ones who were my stars of guidance in the dark. Who would make me laugh when I am upset. Have not been with me for four years. I could not help but blame myself. If I had not asked them to join the school camping trip during our last year of school, perhaps they would still be alive. Perhaps the tents would not have been set on fire. If I had known my friend had already entered their tents as I was out in the woods collecting firewood they wouldn’t have died. If I had forced them to accompany me, It would all have been different. The question “what if” will always haunt me as I think back towards that horrifying night.

“Excuse me, are you the new professor replacing Mr Osterfield?” A voice rang out.

I looked up and noticed my surroundings. I had walked towards my classroom unknowingly as if my body still remembered the way around this school of sacred memories. Pushing away my sorrow as I recollected my self, I feigned a smile and replied,

“As a matter of fact I am. Let me introduce myself and I’d like all of you to introduce yourself one by one with a fact about yourself. For example, my name is Isaac Ashford but I would prefer to be called Mr Ashford and I used to learn in this very school.”

As I introduce myself, the faces of some of my students brighten up. And one boy spoke.

“You mean Isaac Ashford as in, Isaac, George and Daniel? Mr Osterfield wasn’t really fond of you but Mrs Roosevelt would always use the three of you as examples during our early morning programmes as either good or bad influence, it depends on the topic really. I’m a fan of your work” The kid said with gleaming eyes. I laughed and said “Maybe” with a wink and asked him to be the first to introduce himself.

What we left behind in this school may not be something valuable to all but it is certainly something I would remember to keep in my heart.

[chartingconstellationsbywriting]

everything in life is delicate, every detail is intricate, you just have to stroke the paintbrush cautiously