Life As A Writer

Michael Daaboul. 26 y/o from Australia/Melbourne. Digital Designer & Creative Writer.

a legendary dream (over 100k page views to the blog special)

Saddened voices and brittle joints, the end of the horizon seems near.

In these deserted lands where wilder beasts roam and jokers lurk, the hesitant nomads wonder alone.

The nomad carries a journal filled with empty notes with a semi broken spine. He empties his words through thought and imagines the page becoming full of hope of past dreams.

The nomad is no different than the average nomad you find in exiled worlds, he is merely, ordinary. Like many before and many after, he had a vision of fortune and success.

The nomad spends entire moments in awe and dazed over possibilities that are so variable, even the joker fits in laughter of such ridiculous visions. It’s fate often taunted on a line of thick and elusive string dangling from the heavens teasing and reminding nomads of an oasis in waiting. This dubbed as an oasis is thought to be the work and masterstroke of the devil.

In addition to their fragile state of body and soul, the nomads are laid to rest ever only achieving imaginary outcomes from a world dry and barren from any opportunities. The jokers feed off their struggle and are amused for the rest of their life.

For the jokers, their purpose are for the nomads, but the nomad wonders on a purpose of fulfilling a legendary dream.

A special post to mark over 100,000 page views and over 46,000 unique visitors to the blog. Thanks for reading!
- Michael Daaboul

candy man

I’m trying to understand the meaning, the truth that sets us aside. You’re over there and I’m here, we’re separated, showing malaise and subsiding while walking away from what made us.

I have ignored life and the years have ignored me, and the time has come where I wonder where these years have gone.

In suffering and this far-off, safe journey of bad news, this soul is stricken and haemorrhaging.

Raining shivers fall over my chest and the candy-scented man across the hospital passageway said, “I told you son, it’s just the way life is. You’re not here for very long. Don’t worry about it, you have a strong heart, but it’s not strong enough. Go see what the world has to show you before you leave.”

There was no remorse left but sinking ships inside my stomach, the captains are waving the white flag, the seas are too rough, it’s pretty bad if they’re surrendering.

Behind the car park, there was no one left that I could talk to, I was left to be a slave to disease and it seems the world has forgotten me too. I walk high roads, they’re so tall, but I can see a light at the peak. It’s the Sun, merely lurking around the corners trying to keep me warm.

Having some kind of hope, something that comes in handy with no real happy ending or maybe a miracle is taking over, I need something. You need hope.

I guess the candy man was right, don’t worry about it. There’s no stopping it, there’s no relief, just keep going, and see the world!

This is part of a routine to find a meaning to give to a purpose of living. Without any responsibilities, it’s foolish to think we wouldn’t want to be stripped down of any worry and worry wanting to be stripped down of fear.

Disease will hit when everything feels like you have been travelling well and disease will hit when everything is falling.

The past might have took me into hiding showing me a vintage memory of nostalgia, but when hope is falling, I will catch it.

memento mori

Just by the water, I sat on the bench looking over the horizon.

It was silent and the world seemed like it will never end.

The sky kept on going, looming away into the distance.

That’s how I remember that day, no matter how far I was able to see, it felt like there was no end.

Even though I felt my heartache, I looked over the horizon and something inside of me changed. It’s as if someone had said, "Everything will be alright."

When I came down from the hill, I felt the anxiousness creep up and the heartache … over the hill the sky kept moving forward, going further into the distance as I looked back for one more time, holding on to each breath.

For a moment there, I swear I heard the world say, "Everything will be alright."

finding words

Don’t forget words when words never seem to forget you.

When you need to write a letter, the words will lay bare on paper.

When you’re called to give a speech, words will entertain your audience.

When remembering your friend who has passed away on their anniversary, words will fill your heart.

You may not be a wordsmith, you may not be a wandering poet, and you don’t really need to be anything at all to use words.

You don’t need to be educated; you don’t need to be famous to change the world with an ink drop of a pen or multiple presses on a keyboard.

You don’t need a reason to make someone smile with your words. You can take them to worlds that don’t exist. You can create what isn’t there and you can climb a ladder to imaginary heights.

If you’re finding it difficult to find words, you don’t need to worry, if you don’t forget them, the words will find you.

nostalgia captured

If you remember me, I won’t be far away.

If you create the person that I used to be inside of your mind, I will always live there, I will always exist.

Take an old washed out vintage picture of my smiling portrait and remember what it felt like, let the nostalgia consume and surround your body. I might be gone and I know it has been a long time now, but that doesn’t mean I’m gone from your memory.

Walk outside where the tall trees watch over you and dream. There will be no one there but a vast network of green grass falling under the hills that kiss the horizon.

It’s a beautiful day, no clouds in sight and no one is around. For a moment, forget that you’re mortal and hold me for just one more time. If the past comes rushing by, if the world started to rewind and if nostalgia has invaded your consciousness, take a deep breath and float towards the sky.

You won’t know what’s going on, neither do I, but you will be by my side and time, time will hold you still.

And for a moment, you forgot you were mortal and felt a piece paradise overwhelm you. It’s what you always wanted, to see those that have moved on, to go back into the past and live again.

The aching heart moves on, but it doesn’t want to. There’s no choice, we move forward. From time to time you will look back and see if someone is looking back at you while you’re walking away. Whoever you want it to be. Disappointment sweeps over you.

I’m not here anymore, I have gone. You can remember, but I can’t promise I will as you will fade away and it will feel as if we had never met.

This vision is innocent and youthful, but truth be told, this will only happen when you’re old and taking the last gasps of life before you sleep again. You will remember when you were in your twenties, the best time of your life where you contemplated the rest of your life and felt indestructible. How the time has flown by.

If you remember me, I won’t be far away. Just before you sleep, remember what it feels like to long for something that has past and you will be captured inside the nostalgia forever.

crossing. blank. space.

You held me together
Like glue I was the one
I took it all for granted
I never wanted to let go
Through the pain
And when you runaway
The world becomes
That much further away
I have this fear
I didn’t want to see
Trying to hold it together
Everything becomes separated
As I stand here
Watch it all fade away
The memories and the hell
Forget them all
They would love to see you fall
Hold it all together now
It’s not the time to go
Let it fade
But tonight, just hold it

It’s frustrating
When you’re being tested
The odds against you
And this pain leaving you broken
You know how it’s going to be
How it’s going to end
You’re working hard to make it right
The love and hope just don’t match up
You try to think smart
Deep inside your heart
You’re lost and all these thoughts won’t cut it
Despite your efforts
You can’t make it
You have come so far
And just like that
It falls apart
And you break it

shadow of hope

I work every minute of every day and I come home when the Sun has subsided. I leave my dog outside and he waits for me in the same spot I left him in.

He looks at me as I leave with his tail swaying from side to side and his mouth open with his tongue hanging. His eyes light up with every shadow that’s crossing the footpath. When he knows it’s not me a part of him sinks to the bottom of his stomach.

He waits there the whole day while the hours continue to pass him by. I may not come home today, but he waits anyway. He doesn’t chew on the bone I left for him and he doesn’t chase his tail.

When I do arrive home, I can see his eyes water more than usual. He can’t speak but the look on his face and the emotion in his eyes speaks a thousand languages.

a trillion pictures

Is it worth what a writer gives away?

Is what the writer writes enough to be exposed?

Undressing his mind and surrendering the words the only way a writer can escape?

Escape is needed.

Escaping from reality and into the depths of your mind will give you enough shelter until you have bled it out of ideas and imaginative plot twists. After all of that, is what you write even worth it? Is it worth being naked for, out there for the world to read? Is it worth to let strangers in?

That’s what a writer does, sends an invitation to the world with the name field left blank. For a blank mind is what a writer wants to allow room for what he has to say, what the writer might give away.

After you leave, your mind will be painted with a trillion different pictures all made up of words and bringing you closer to that elusive DNA strand that makes up your imagination.

powerless

Did you notice what’s in a number? Behind every closed door is a lock to a problem we have thrown away the keys for.

In searching for this key, we become powerless.


In 2010, 285 million people have type 2 diabetes worldwide.

More than 121 million people suffer from depression worldwide

64 million people have chronic obstructive pulmonary disease worldwide in 2004. By 2030, it is estimated to be the fourth leading cause of death worldwide due to an increase of people smoking. 3 million people died of COPD in 2005.

It’s estimated 57 million people die a year.

26.6 million people worldwide have Alzheimer’s disease in 2006.

10.8 million people are diagnosed with cancer per year and 6.7 million die from it.

8.8 million new cases of tuberculosis and 1.5 million deaths in 2010 worldwide.

7.6 million children under five years of age died in 2010 worldwide. That’s 21,000 children each day and 900 children every hour.

7.25 million people died of heart disease in 2008.

6.15 million people died from a stroke in 2008.

3.46 million people died of lower respiratory tract infection worldwide in 2008.

Multiple sclerosis affects 2.5 million people worldwide. In the United States, one person is diagnosed every hour.

Alcohol claims 2.5 million people each year.

1.78 million people died from HIV/AIDS in 2008. In 2010, 34 million people have AIDS worldwide.

1.39 million people died from lung cancer in 2008. 1.37 million people die every year from lung cancer.

Tobacco is a major cause of heart disease, lung disease and lung cancer. Tabacco is responsible for the death of one in 10 adults worldwide. Tobacco is a hidden statistic.

In 2008, 99% of children under five years of age who died were from low to middle income countries.

1.21 million people died from road traffic accidents in 2008.

Suicide takes the life of one million people every year and an estimated 20 million attempted suicides every year worldwide.

520,00 people were murdered in 2000 worldwide.

There’s 250,000 cases of rape reported annually that covers 65 countries.


It’s hard to notice when the window looking outside has a rainbow with no end. It’s hard to see the road back when the mist covers your tracks. There’s an empty seat here for you to notice that when the rain drops and hits the ground, to an ant, it’s a tidal wave of dreams never realised. And when the lighting hits on a rainy day, you will question that you thought the umbrella will save you from the fall. But you sing the chorus and you’ll wait for Christmas, but you know your family isn’t coming home. You put your dad’s old record of Elvis and listen to his sadness and by the time the song ends, you’ll see by all these numbers that you’re likely to be covered in darkness. In the night of despair, you wonder how your fear could be so heartless.

When did we become so helpless?

pondering the ceiling

Fate is uncontrollable.

Don’t believe in fate, however, the concept expresses enough truth to warrant its place in existence.

Lying in bed with the lights off, hands behind your head and eyes wide open with the ceiling welcoming your attention. What goes through your mind? Is there a sense of appreciation in pondering life’s many enigmas? It’s your quiet time.

Insecurities become apparent as they have always been; never clouded. Not noticing them for a while as the feeling of knowing is enough for you to stop going.

Stop caring? You understand and you’re certain everyone else stares at their ceiling; with this assumption relief gently passes over your chest.

It’s not so different.

We often believe we’re walking away from problems, but we forget how our problems are holding our hands. Problems don’t believe in an end or a beginning, they have always existed in the dark. Questioning their origin, questioning like if a God exists. A delicate system made by rules associated with no logical answer.

Answers, that’s a thirst worth craving for, a lusting divine so elusive, oblivion will enclose our curiosity in due time. Best to wait for hope, but it’s not coming.

Human is what we are, a process, rules and principles governed by time and aging. Once this concept is understood entirely, a moment of obsolete is born.

Obsolete.

The system whispers simulated emotions and feelings into your ear. It lingers while you understand not understanding this moment and for that moment to exist in something that didn’t exist.

If you’re overwhelmed with this emotion, your reaction speaks in actions. The tear’s breath chokes on its own moist; it’s that point where you cry and feel in the deepest part of your throat that something is embracing the loss. In that moment, it’s a matter of minutes before they have all gone.

It’s over, is it really over?

Bringing the camera back to you lying on your bed, powerless, you had it, it slipped, you knew it and you don’t know it.

All it takes is one blink of an eye and everything is gone, within a second is an eternity if you want it to last that long. There’s no reason, no explanation, it is what it is. The cycle continues with you lying on your bed with that tear falling and stopping, falling and stopping and eventually, suddenly, it moves swiftly past your cheek.

You realise, this experience will happen again in reality and in your dreams.

That’s the way it is. It’s not going to change, before you existed and in the darkness of your life, this is where you will be for the rest of your timeless existence.

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