I thought to myself this morning it must be a very frustrating thing to be a dream, to have such a future awaiting you, traveller, yet your means of transport lacks the fuel to give you the rebirth you require. It is a season for dreams to usher us in and whisper the deliciousness of their adventures. For them to be able to pitch themselves and auction their beauty for sale. For your mind, I will give you your dreams , for your vision I will give you your dreams, for your habits and your discipline, I will give you your dreams. Yet do not fear to be a unique signature on a stamped envelope, the universe demands. Do not fear to hold your colours boldly to the mass stand at the top of the lighthouse and wave for a tired dream to stumble it’s way to your golden shores.
Discipline is a sturdy word. Yet i would say, go for practice, go for consistency, take a chunk out of the big dream and break it down. Shrink it in your minds eye until its nothing but a nugget. Dreams can be scary things, at times foreboding. There’s a change of habit involved, that word we detest so much sacrifice, and sometimes we even loose people. Yet what if in the long run, you gain so much more? What if that belief you had, is not just talk anymore, you can look at your reflection in the mirror with pride and say you know what if I was picking a team, id pick me. Id pick me as first draft, striker, ace, wild card, id trust me, id invest in me, my words actually mean something.
Someone once called me a hypocrite. Life makes hypocrites of us all, you find yourself contradicting decisions you make, second guessing yourselves, challenging a mind that was once glue. Yet all of a sudden each thought is banana skin, you slip in and out of it. Let me let you in on a secret, such is life. It is the evolution of the self. With every big dream we take on, we shed a little bit of our old skin, we become fragmented leaving pieces of ourselves in translation. Love yourself, don’t loose yourself in the war to be successful. My friend it is a war. You will combat with those who are familiar with the you that is part of their safe zone, you will be resented at times for stepping apart from the crowd, yet to move with distinction, you must step outside of the prison of a small mind. You must learn to forgive yourself, some of the errors you will make in the area of consistency, and you must accept that who you become tomorrow is a product of what you did today. Time is the most expensive thing to waste. It is non negotiable, and cannot be bartered.
I didn’t see the devil coming until he shook my hand. I was thick in my own fears, nestled in quick sand, too terrified to live. I was a fragmented self, and my vision was skewed. It is easy to be lost in the confusion of pain, trapping yourself in your minds confusion.
Yet you must arise from this slumber and awaken yourself to a life that wants to claim you. Otherwise you will not spot the Jekyl that comes at you, dressed in disguise. A wolf covered in wool, smiling with a narrative of lies, convincing you that you are loosing a fight, when you haven’t even stepped into the ring. You must trick the mind and shame the devil, with truth, action, courage, and self belief. Some people grimace through pain so much, they convince the world they are smiling. You must mentally go to war, with any Jekyl that tries to steal your strength, your motivation, your self belief. Do not embrace toxicity with a smile, create a hub of warmth for your mind, learning is the bridge to many things, faith helps give access, it is not your lot to simply give up.
From talks about property, digital marketing, investments, there are countless ways and opportunities to build capital and acquire your first million. What you need though are to cultivate the mindset and the habits of becoming a millionaire. To think with a mind that will spot opportunities and create access. It is important to have a wealth mindset. Read more books about capital and finance, about creative ways to access more capital, and how to manage the income you have coming in. Funnily enough some people make a fortune in income but due to bad money management, their finances simply decrease and no surplus value is added. Watch videos, listen to podcasts and engage with people who know about finance, read blogs, and if you need advice…ask. Just know that this journey will be riddled with challenges.
The truth about any dream is that you will have to face challenges. Face fears, and other peoples razor sharp tongue. It is a step at a time, a goal at a time. You can’t eat the sandwich without taking a bite at a time, you must not overwhelm yourself, you are transporting your dream from another reality. From the subconscious mind you are trying to make it real, shaping it, carving it, these things take work and take time.
In my life, in your lifetime…people will doubt you, people will celebrate you, and some will come out to destroy. You must build for yourself a second skin, you must celebrate the triumph of rising every morning from the slumber of negativity, the hindrances of the past, glaring at your reflection in the mirror and saying with pride… I am still here. From Goliath i am a David. Agile, tactical, able to predict the chaos of a tempest that arises before you, flexible and distinct, wise from past experiences and adaptable. There will be days where you will feel like a crushed beetle in sand, and others where you will be a panther in a jungle, life is full of contrasts. You are a complex self, always no matter what stresses arise keep your goals in your pocket. Taste the vision on your tongue, rebirth it with your lips everyday as you face your reflection, for this is your life and from what you can remember, you have but one. Make it special, prove beyond a doubt to the self that has been denied so much, that it will have access to a splendour of magnificence.Abundant spirit, abundant mind, abundant life.
Breathe.just.Breathe I mentally pace myself each morning before I face a goal, knowing that nuggets of fear turn into procrastination. I am my own worst enemy at times, yet I am also my greatest strength. During times of dire need, you must remember the words you used to propel yourself forward before. Pace yourself, understanding that although every action has a ripple of consequences, the right choices consistently will carry you upon a tide of glory. Believe that when you fail, you are learning, allow yourself the chance to be taught by Life.
Life is a ruthless teacher, she is stubborn in her classroom, diligent, and thorough. Although the strife may slice through you like a blade, comb through you as though you are strands of loose hair, you must understand that every lesson comes with trials. Tests of your character. How much are you willing to invest in yourself, how much gravitas do your words have?
“ I am terrified of letting the world in. It’s not the worlds fault, i am scared to let go.” My name is Mylene Klausman. Yesterday my boyfriend played Anthony Robbins in the car for the last time. Jesus, it was killing me. Not Robbins, My guy, total hypocrisy. “ This guy changed my life Mylene!” he announces over the speakers, yet everything stays the same. Our routines are the same, we get up at 7.30, i actually get up at 8 but he wakes me up with all the pacing up and down the house. Or sometimes he’s up at four and he decides to switch the lamplight on and talk about politics or something just to hear his own voice.
I think we are growing apart, or two different people, the sentence is rehearsed over and over in my head. It claims every space in my mind, yet in the early hours i am sticky with sweat, after intense lovemaking. After conversations that trail deep into the night, where i find myself second guessing myself because Eden is getting way too intense. “There’s a guy,” I tell my friend Reno as she pulls up to my house in her navy blue Sedan. “ Shit there’s a guy and im practically married,”
“ Who, what, where, and when?” She lowers her tinted hugo boss shades to reveal stunning blue eyes.
I like her new bob as well, everything is Slick and organized, Midnight black hair, exotic features and razor sharp cheekbones. Some guy said Reno looks like Angelina Jolie, personally ive seen her look way better. Then again im in awe. I slip into the seat of the blue Sedan. “ Look were matching,” she dots a kiss on my cheek,were both wearing blue denim catsuits. “ Its not Tommy is it?”
“ Tommy who?” she puts the car into first gear. “ Thomas Denton, plays Basketball for the Rovers, prefect, perfect, uhhmmmn” she flutters her lashes. I cackle.
“ No im with Eden remember.”
“ Are you happy?” We are steering the car down Crossharbour Road, down Lucas Avenue near the local Mcdonalds. “ Im happy.” I lie. Do I remember what happy feels like? I wonder if I have become a sedative self, I smile when im supposed too, laugh when im supposed too, I feel like a puppy that’s being petted when his parents come over, “go on Myle sit.” I imagine myself with huge furry ears being propped on a dog matt, begging for a bone or some affection. Then there’s him. So I say it out loud because Reno, knows the Him syndrome, when some stranger invades your mind and your senses, you are hypnotized. “ His name is Aidan Rothschild, he sits in the third row in Science, and in the library he watched me for a whole hour, I didn’t even know he was looking,”
“ Nice,” Reno offers pulling out a stick of gum at the traffic lights. “ A Rothschild. I know about them. Damn their rich, devilishly handsome as well.Describe please,” I smile guiltily at the memory. I pin him to be 6 ft five Midnight hair, eyes so dark their almost purple, yet there’s a soft hue of brown in them. His features are strong Aqualine, he has a thick jaw, and long sweeping lashes. When he put his hands up and spoke, I swear on my whole entire life, id never heard anybody sound like that. It was a deep tone, his voice is like a song, I found myself being seduced in with every syllable. I instantly turned into one of those girls Annie Elkry is one of those girls and I hate her for it, overly inquisitive, what does he eat? What does he like? What does he do for fun? Why did he pick our School? And whats so interesting about me? I look up from the book im pretending to read, its awful. Our eyes connect across the Library hall, my eyes flicker away nervously. My stomach dances as he rises from his seat. Tall drink of water,that’s what he is, and he’s heading my way. I smoothe a tongue across my wrinkled lips and then watch in horror as Eden makes his way over to me. He is wearing his muddied tracksuit, I noticed the tall drink of water has a name tag. New students are put through this Orientation workshop, they have to wear name tags. He’s left his on. I study the name on the badge. Adrian Rothschild. He ducks his head and dodges Eden narrowly swerving as they almost collide. I like his scent. A trail of soft tobacco. As he walks away, our eyes connect once more, there is mystery there, and intrigue. Eden stands over my shoulder eyeing us suspiciously. “ Do you know that guy?”
“ No,” not yet, im thinking. Eden scratches his head. “ Guy looks like trouble.” Eden clears his throat. Aidan reminds me of someone like me, someone keeping a big secret. Grandma says I have an eye for it. “ Those grey eyes of yours girl, always exposing the invisible. You’ve got your mothers eyes.” But mothers eyes got her into a lot of trouble. My mother was murdered two years ago when I was sixteen, she was a journalist, and my father is still convinced it was something she saw. Someone she saw the day before she died. I remember how scary it was that she seemed so calm on the surface, yet when she thought id turned my back that day , her voice was manic and erratic. Her words were like someone choking, terrified, “ They’ll find out the truth,” she’d shouted. “ He’ll know, they will know. There’s nowhere to run, just come clean.” But whoever it was never came clean, and my mother disappeared for a week until her body was found by the river bed, Frozen and naked. I don’t think I cried. I think I was numb for a long time, id been programmed for bad things. My mother was strangled to death. I had thought for weeks about her last few minutes, what was her final word, then for years, it haunted me. Id see her murderer in smiles from friends, in people who hugged and offered condolences, those who laughed at jokes too hard, everyone became a suspect. “ Still day dreaming about Mr wrong?” I snapped back into the present. “Were here.” Reno and I had pulled up outside Elmhurst high School, im never ready for this place. I lie, like ive become accustomed too.” Yeah maybe ill see him.” I take a deep breath as we step out of the car. I feel a sense of forboding. There is something coming, there is something about that guy. Whatever secret he’s keeping, its more than a curiosity now. Then I think of Eden. Do I delve into adventure, or return to a sedative life?
We die day by day, selves slewn, no detective. I have been slaughtered by
Love ridiculed by its side effect, it is a poisonous lover and yet I remain enchanted. Enthralled. Who could love this, I used to say, this flawed, distorted self, who would claim this as their belonging, be on an Island with this self. I say, it is a dangerous thing to love, to need, to awaken something like fire deep in the recesses of your mind. To be swallowed whole by it, drowning in the saliva of its words, yet thirsty still. There are people out there, mother warns in love with being in love. People out there who are tempest, and literature, who are fragmented now because they realised something was missing. They were missing a love. How do I love thee, let me count the ways, damaged through history, for the rest of our days, I find myself lonesome, and longing without you, I find myself turning many shades of blue. It was a poem I rehearsed in drama class, one that Eleanore Toms wrote in Lit. I think to myself, how scary it is to love like this. My prescription? Avoid the lovers lane
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It wasn’t what I expected, he wasn’t what I expected. My friend Marcus has changed a lot, there’s a venom in him. His words seethe with rage, they leak out of the crevices of his tongue. Poison that they are. He used to be that guy, the smiler in the neighbourhood, the one who always waved at you first. But somethings strange about him, these days. There’s a sickness in his eyes where there was warmth, a darkness where there was light, and yesterday his soul felt completely black. ” I’m not a how was it for you,kind of girl.” I stretch my tall limbs out to the edge of his mahogany bed post.my breasts are pert beneath the sapphire blanket. I used to feel a warmth in his room. The embers in the fireplace, the painting of a more retro urban Monalisa, the gold chandeliers, when we were kids we used to do yoga on his older brothers tiger rug which he had claimed for himself. ” would it be cheesy if I admitted, that it made me feel cheap,” I tie my hair up in a satin bun. There’s rouge on the bedsheets from where I lay on my front as he claimed me in the shadows of a busy night. I was dense with drink and sick with longing. “Did you want it to mean more?” His voice is throaty, rough as his brown eyes lick the embers in the fire. ” No.” I confess. We’re not couple people, Marcus and I have never been couple people. We hate Valentine’s Day, and it’s tedious marketing campaigns. I don’t care much for chocolates, silk scarves, or funny lingerie. Last Valentine’s Day Marcus licked bourbon out of my belly button, and planted a kiss between my thighs. It was soft and gentle, I felt his goatee tickle the soft layers of my flesh as I curled his handsome face like a stallion. Allowing his tongue to slip between my undergarments. We’d never went beyond that. for years, we’d watched, tingled, tiptoed around the electricity we felt. Now I simply felt stone in my stomache salt in my mouth. It wasnt supposed to be like this, it was meant to be hot and sweet, a sedative for my pain. Nourishment for my starvation. Sometimes I feel like a lynx, combing a trail through the wild, yet with my other lovers I feel myself clawing into infinity. ” will you ever talk about it, about what was done?” Marcus runs large hands through his ink black crown, his eyes almost as dark. “Maybe.” He shrugs his lean frame dragging on the dark jeans and turtle neck. “One day.”
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