That different, I can feel it. The harsh tides

That town, that toxic town, most of my childhood years were spent there looking out the window, only to the beautiful cocktail-blue sky that always seems to be darkening and large pillows of clouds moving towards me. When I got older, everything was just deteriorating, the slanted beam of light never stays, not with me, the roar and growl had became my second nature. That town was lethal, everything was absolutely lethal.

So this is it. I packed up my bags that seems to be so extra hefty, perhaps it is my heart, locked up the gate, bidding a farewell to the old life, landing on a whole new golden globe with no regrets, no more hypocrisy, no more corruption, but hope and optimism awaits me at the west. Leaving has always sounds so grieving to me, I called this – a great escape. They said entering a whole new side of the world, is like walking into a crowded room full of people you barely recognise. Everyone is talking, they could be talking about you, or they are not. You feel small and intimidated. And going through this all alone, you will feel like you are naked in a whole room of strangers, bare and helpless in front of every pair of eyes that swallows you in, judgements piercing through, only with an enhanced feeling of anxiety and vulnerability.

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But this is different, I can feel it. The harsh tides that has crush me down ebbed away. I am calm and unfazed by anymore backstabbing guns and knives that have once bayoneted me. Life always amazes me, no matter how hard I try, nothing can undo my past, yet there are thousands of roads ahead of me, for me to choose. That’s when I realised, my heart has guided me here, to this magnificent building.

A building thats holds a lot of sentiment; the breaking, the uplifting, the rupturing, the inspiring – Art. I adore this place the achievement of stillness in the midst of chaos, a balance of purity and serenity. I see these people, those obscure orbs holding intense stares with pieces of enigma scattered in them that I cannot figure, to one direction, but their facial expressions present, frowns that tend to clench their brows, smiles that tend to the dimples by their cheeks, confusion that tend to highlight the bewildered faces, admiration that tend light up eyes. These people intrigues me, as I divert my gaze that aligned with theirs., I see this painting that has been hung on the plain wall at eye level. ‘Amsterdam – The Release of Happiness – Leonid Afremov’ Interesting.As I am studying the painting, taking in every strokes of the paint brush that has glided through different circumstances, that is now engraved on the canvas forever.

The cold and dark tone of the upper sky and the dead end of river immediately drag all my attention, tug at my dignity, and pull me in a deep sea of unwelcoming memories. Spruce. Sapphire. Denim. Prussian.

Navy. I’m not looking back to rewind my story’s past, yet the shades of blue are never ending, awakening the disorienting fog over life. The wide sky is the muddled colour that seems calming, at first but eventually suffocates and draws out all the glow in you, leaving you lost and impotent in the darkest night. The river is smooth and enchanting on the surface but deep down, the mixed hue in it forms a spiral that dangerously engulfs you into the murk, leaving you breathless and drowning in vast negativity. A twitch of my eyebrows, I, once again stumbled over and fell into the crater of my bygone. Still scanning, I come across to this beam of warmth, contrasted under a dark night. Crimson.

Tangerine. Honey. Butter.

Emerald green. These shades exude rays of light that seems so friendly, genuinely, casting slanted beam of light across the meadow. Despite being nighttime, all the illuminations seem to turn the originally mystic Amsterdam into a flaming patchwork of colours, adding a remarkable glamour of rebirth on the canvas. This rush of sentiment feels so new to me, as the simple yet complex mixing of colours is a promise that something can begin again, all the lights blinding the history, guiding the new self to an irradiate journey. Although midnight won’t last forever, there will always be an authentic colour spectrum peeking through every haver, in the most peaceful fluorescent bloom, along with the brightest smile.

Taking a step backward, I let the full picture of the canvas take a soothing, calming influence on my mind, while I am diving in the shade of my mind that is packed with uncertainty. My head is running wild. I saw the despair in the gloom, heard the sobs in the blues.

I’m almost determined that the shadow will forever follow every step you take, and exploit the just for you to glow , no matter how hard you scream for aid, it will always be a one way trip to this black hole. The quarrel between my head continues. I saw a new spectrum of joy, hope and a illuminated pathway for my heart to follow. I’m certain that I’ve officially moved on from my dusty old part, it’s getting better, my life’s getting better.

I don’t have to look down, follow where my shadow guides me, I can look up to the radiating light with my shadow following . Confusion flood over me as the dilemma stays, in silence.Walking out of this building, the siesta feels extra refreshing, as it shines bright, looking straight, I shielded my eyes, to continue my journey to the west.This time, my shadow following my every steps.