Life As A Writer

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

Generation Y

We’re a sad horse; we are disappointed with the world because our expectations are not in view with reality. No, we’re not lazy, but expect a lot. We’re ambitious, flowery and want fulfilment and meaningful relationships.

We’re green with envy of everyone else, some think their grass is always green, when we look over the fence, it’s a marvellous wonderland. Have you seen what’s in the shed? Everyone is just like you. They’re not sure what they’re doing, clinging to whatever hope they can muster, floating in the dark, can’t decide on what they want, always frustrated and annoyed at everything. No self-confidence or overly confident and miserable at the world.

Concentrate on the most important part; yourself. Stop looking over the fence, don’t look for distractions. Work towards YOU and don’t worry about everyone else.

What Missing You Sounds Like

I’m sorry that I didn’t do enough.

I want you to know that each day hurts without you.

I feel you’re fading away from my mind, but not from my heart. My heart won’t let you go and it holds on to you with claws anchored in as if losing you will cut open a wound so large it would flutter an abnormal rhythm from every chamber. All the contractions will be in shock, the lower chambers will hum the Valley of Death and the music to my ears, and how your smile looks to my eyes will all be out of sync.

I hope that you will come back to me and we can start again.

But you are gone.

You are gone.

Cut open and flutter abnormally a rhythm and dance with me in the lower chambers, and you walked with me holding my hands in the Valley of Death and left me all out of sync.

The Day I Decided to be Broken

Why did I stay?

I have never seen a mind quite like this one. I couldn’t sense her; I couldn’t feel what she was, or what she was feeling. I couldn’t read her.

Naturally, I wanted to know more. I was instantly pulled towards her, she fascinated me. She baffled my understanding, my logic, everything I knew, when I looked at her, I felt like I knew nothing.

I had this howling desire to be with her. And I did just that, I hurled my entire existence in her direction, every part of me. It was an obsession, it was freedom, all strangely intertwining together, kissing and being stubborn all at the same time.

Nothing about me or her, or our unbending minds could change it, both strong and weak, soaking up every moment.

All I did was let my emotional universe become consumed, I let it become, in its entirely, completely consumed. My mind had an equal, every thought expanded to the point I had no more understanding of what was happening.

This whole situation was awfully blemished, but she was there, larger than the planet itself, looking straight at me; this one person, precarious and so fragile.

I knew from the beginning that she would destroy me and for a fleeting moment that seemed to last a lifetime, it didn’t bother me. Every emotional tug-of-war and every crack that surfaced, I didn’t mind. My mind was feeding from the calamity from her lips and my whole existence was one with her.

Why did I stay? I stayed because I wanted to be broken, I wanted to be destroyed in such a way that I didn’t recognise who I was anymore. I was terminal, emotionally exhausted and weak. There was nothing left of me which was the perfect opportunity to evolve into something much more. How well did I know myself? How could I become someone else in a state of crisis?

I thought I knew who I was, but, I knew nothing at all.

What Nostalgia Sounds Like

I used to write to you all of this cute stuff that only you would understand. I would put a goofy emoticon at the end, because I would be smiling; and I know you would have a goofy smile on your face reading my silly stuff.

I will then ask you how your day is going. If you slept okay last night? Talk to you about all the small details. I will read with such curiosity, my eyes would anxiously wait for every detailed letter from your fingertips. I won’t reply back straight away, but you’re as bad as me, and we both can’t wait more than a few minutes before breaking and reply back at the exact same time!

I will tell you that I need to get you a gift because your birthday is soon and you try to guess what kind of gift I will get you. You know I’m not going to tell you, but it’s your cute way of dropping small hints. Then I will tell you I can’t believe it’s almost DECEMBER, and we’ll both lay down and wonder where has the time gone? Then we’ll talk about our little adventures putting up the Christmas tree and you will tell me about your special arrangements with all the decorations.

After all of that nonsense, I will quietly tell you how beautiful you are and you will be silent for a few seconds as if you heard the most amazing melodic lyric you have ever heard and you can’t reply but faint just a little inside.

What Love Sounds Like

You have always looked so amazing, if there ever comes a day where I don’t love you anymore, I want you to know that everything I said wouldn’t have been a lie.

It was real once upon a time.

I know it’s sad, we won’t be how we used to be. I will miss how we used to be, just like the first time that I saw you. We will remember how we laughed nervously and when our laughing fit has subsided, you would look at me, like really look at me and without saying a single word, your heart will sync to the beat of mine.

I can’t really remember, but I think you will hold me tight and you won’t let me go, always and forever you would say, and I will always love you, but forever is not such a long time when you say it.

You know, there’s not much point to your love when you have disappeared from my life. What exactly are you loving? The memory of me? The history?

Life is not about who you have had, the history, it’s about your ongoing experiences, who you will spend eternity with. Your distant love is a word. Your sentence, your text messages, your feelings are in the moment.

What does your love sound like next year?

If there ever comes a day when the routine becomes a loud echo, you will become boring and annoying. When you become nasty and a miserable wrecking ball, you will compare yourself to your friends. When the whole world is moving forward and you’re standing still, you will start questioning the relationship you’re in. If you’re not growing and your mind is a wretched mess, you will run away.

Your love is weak like me. You’re fragile like me.

Who are you looking for when love sounds like me?


They told me to fight for what you want; you know, grab it with both hands and don’t let it go.

I was inspired. It lifted my self-confidence and self-worth. Made me believe, I should fight for everything.

Trying to absorb everything that life is and what it’s about, trying to learn how to present myself and subconsciously placing mines in the back of my mind about what a particular person thought about me.

Am I good enough? Can I make a mistake? What if I make a mistake? What if, what if, what if, what if.

I was always concerned about what other people thought. Did I have to set a standard, do I care what the person in the white shirt thought?

Why did I care? Why do I try to be someone that I’m not? Am I trying to be a better me?

All these questions, no one hands you a manual about anything. I learn best when I make mistakes, but why? Am I too stubborn to see otherwise? That I need to inflict enough pain, cause enough damage for life to uppercut my understanding in such a way that I bleed enough to stop and learn.

I need to lose. I need to feel loss. I need to fear. I need to understand if I’m too scared to do what stops me from my dreams, I’m missing out on achieving. My lack of confidence is destroying me.

They say you should aim for the stars, and don’t aim so low. They seldom talk about the in-between; the pain and understanding to enable you to aim so high.

I’m not taught to fight, I’m not taught to grab anything with both hands, and I’m expected to do it.

I’m expected to.

If you’re not going to help yourself, if you’re not improving, no one will do it for you and you will find something in-between.

It might not be what you want.

Because You’re Pretty

What do you do, where do you go when all hope is lost?

When you feel cold; feel a part of you die, do you stop?

When you’re running out of time and you’re growing old, do you feel like you have left your life behind? Are you telling me why?

No, this is not goodbye, I’m telling you why, it’s not too late.

I’m not wasting my time defending your misery, don’t tell me. When you need me to remind you hope is not gone when you have misplaced it.

When you find hope, you won’t wait for me and I will say goodbye. I wasn’t wasting my time holding your hands when I told you, you’re pretty.

Will you come back for me and take me? When your misery is gone and when you have found the place you belong, will you show me?

I’ll wait for you, even if I run out of time; I don’t even question why, with your hope filled words … because you’re pretty.

becoming two separate worlds

This is the scene. I will set it for you.

I sat there in silence and I knew what was right. I listened through the cracks while the cold air was seeping. It was you and I, loving each other through silence.

Through the earlier years, imperfection was laughable and being side by side, the noise was inaudible.

Mumbling deserted dreams and becoming two separate worlds.

Stop reading for a minute, please. Think. About. What. I. Just. Wrote.

I wrote, “Becoming two separate worlds.”

Do you understand what this means? That’s huge in the context of this written piece. We became TWO SEPARATE WORLDS. We had been on one, and through time, ANOTHER WORLD DEVELOPED and we drifted further and further apart. All this, and somehow, we never saw it coming. Another world brewing right under our nose with you on it and our hearts split in two different directions. Different paths of uncertainty and harsh storms. I, didn’t even get to say goodbye, and just like that, our one path together, abruptly turned into two separate directions without a whisper, without a single care for my beating heart. Staring quietly as your roots violently detached from my planet and roars of gashing winds on yours scream into my atmosphere as if I was a passing comet. Like I was nothing.

You can continue reading…

The last dance erased any hope of us, no ideas, our plans deleted and left with no ambition.

I spoke through the salty air, in this humid night, I stayed through to the morning light. As much yearning and as much pulling my heart roared its sweet madness, the leash attached was merely pulling me along through the harshness.

It took one to love perfectly, and one to watch closely.

One was listening to the heartbeat while the other one was caught wandering the street.

For you sir had to keep one ambition, one hope of a passing dream, will you give your yearning a place to rest? For if you had let your heart run wild with feeling, and I know it had, you’re sure be the fool to be left bleeding. No matter what you have learned or have been a noble man, one was caught passing you out through the night while you were sleeping, and just like the wind, your bearing had meant nothing.

And as our world’s first collided on a sweet summer’s day, and so too, our worlds detached on the wake of Christmas day.

In the end I was told to let go, for all the love I had and the words I poured on the beach’s sands, that the waves would reach the shore and swallow all that remained.

meteorites and elephants

Have you seen happiness in someone else’s memories?

Have you been underneath the happiness of a withered past from photographs that were taken so long ago?

Dark glasses on and no more smiles, riding on a runaway speedboat, embarrassed of the failure.

The elephants comfort you, as they do in your unexplainable dream. Their trunk manages to softly glide across your cheek, wiping away most of your tears. Their eyes burn brightly, burn in agony of seeing you broken. They want you to recognise your blindness and now, you hope that you can see.

Forgiven by their gentle nature, they never forget, behind the city backdrop, a scenery hanging in open wilderness and your horrible release this, disgusting obsessive disease.

Reach out your hands as far as you can and your happiness is not reaching back and forever reaching until you bend. You never did forgive yourself and you reached until you broke.

With your eyes closed, the brightness was lost across the night sky like a shooting star, over with a blink of an eye, and pieces of your fleeting thoughts of regret fall underneath your happiness like scattered meteorites piercing your heart.

"Don’t look so grim child, you were made for this. This is what will make you great."

moving at the same speed

The Earth moves 108,000 km/h around the Sun and I look at you; we smile at the same speed. We look into each other’s eyes at the same speed. Our hearts beat at the same speed and you and I move at the same speed.

We’re holding on at the same speed. You’re looking at me concerned for our memories, that they are in danger of being lacerated and mangled from us. From all existence.

There’s nothing you can do, we’re just holding on.

As your hands slip through mine at the same speed, it feels like the world has stood still.

Everything has forced our hands as they’re torn apart. Centimetres from calamity, a pertinacious and vile heartache.

Our relationship exposed all at once… at the same speed.

i look for you everywhere, but you’re not there

I look for you in the park, and you’re not there.

I walk towards the pier, and you’re not there.

I drive to the countryside, and you’re not there.

I walk under the city lights and through dark buildings, and you’re not there.

I went to our favourite place, our first kiss, and you’re not there.

I found a wooden raft and went out to sea, and you’re not there.

It started to rain and under my umbrella, you weren’t there.

In the black and white of my sadness taken by photographs which couldn’t capture my solitude in colour, you will see me in the darkest part, nothing but a shadow of my former self, the deepest black, alone, waiting for you.

While you’re still not there.

i could do this forever

One day you will look at me and you won’t feel a thing.

I remembered the first time we met; expecting the worst, but it couldn’t have gone any better. I wanted the moment to last forever.

Driving back, watching the stars, I remember listening to every word and every laugh you made. Sitting there, staring, smiling. Every time you smiled and every time you swayed your head to the side and the Sun would hide just shy of your hair.

Can you imagine the first time would be gone, and the way you would look at me, falling, where you were feeling every heavy beat? I became lost in that moment, trapped falling for you every day. I was happy and sad at the same time. I would fall so hard for you, that one day when we part, I couldn’t imagine the heartache. I would allow you to destroy me, everyday and I would say in the end, "It was all worth it."

Sooner or later, I realised, I was alone stuck in that memory. While you’re looking at me, not feeling a thing, fading along with the Sun that day.

Although I was a part of you, a part of your dreams, I don’t believe you ever wanted me there. I could feel the lines on your hands, and I continued to follow them; they lead me straight to your heart; I found the smallest details so beautiful with you.

I couldn’t ever imagine you would say to me with your silent eyes that held so much of the ocean… "Never."

I wait for you to take a breath
all along I’m looking at you, waiting
and you wonder what I’m looking at.

You find it hard to believe,
that I could just sit there and stare at you,
for this long;
and you wonder what it could all mean.

I sit back and tell you,
"I could stare at you, all day and all night."
I watch you giggle, and smile, stare down
onto the bed sheet, and back at me again
with your cheeky, cunning grin.

I could do this every day, just sitting here
looking at you and it would be enough.

the art of living

If you had a chance, you will take it because it’s in your nature. There are compulsions which become habit and with enough reason your actions can be justified. Whether it’s a burning desire or a deep rooted passion, there’s a cause and with this cause brings awareness of contemplation.

Where this long and thoughtful observation takes you, isn’t a crowded place, its solitude and a visual ingredient that spoils the main course. When you should take time to be with yourself, you’re often left out with the crowd, and when you are left to be, you want to jump back in.

Defining courage is not by overcoming your enemies. Enemies are just a distraction to the overall plan. It’s your desires that you need to focus on, it’s YOU.

Subduing your desires and often wondering what you haven’t got.

There’s the chance and nature of the risk or maybe this is the art of dying.

Remember what you have now is what you used to hope for. You won’t develop in happiness of everyday living, but it’s how you survive the difficulties in relationships that define you.

That’s the art of living.

the last poem

Live to forget and read the last poem you will ever read and remember that on your deathbed, you will have a cosmic collision of your life.

A life that you will repeat and experience again. A cycle of space and time where you will see there’s no past and no future, you will be somewhere between the present repeating in an infinite number of times. Swirled upon moving ridges and being spat out to the same life, same universe and experiencing more of the same in a constant, invisible melody for eternity.

If to you gentlewoman, that death is the end, than the beginning has yet to occur.

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