Wipe the black streaks off your face. Lift your chin and hustle. Hustle hard. So much that the deafening applause drowns the silent cries of your heart. Let your aching heart be enough motivation for you to claw towards your dreams that were veiled by your imbecile obsessions.
Don’t be the knight in shining armour. Have your metal tested. And burned. Let the universe be the furnace and the world, the battleground that restores your faith in yourself.
It ain’t easy, living your fullest. But make sure you do. Make sure you don’t have anything to regret when your life flashes in front of your eyes as you lie on your deathbed. Let the cracked walls of your heart, once rhyming with bitter and wounded, resonate the sound of your rhythm.
Release the whispers trapped in the walls. Scream secrets to the sky. Just don’t go unnoticed. Be the painter of watercolours with boxes of oil. Stare at them apprehensively; relish in the richness, the mysticism.
Inspire. Seek inspiration. Seek inspiration to write about aluminium eyeshadows, about sunlight that sings to your skin. Fill the black canvas of your mind with the morphing effervescent splatters of joy. Find comfort in your insanity.
Soar in the blue sky, towards the ocean. Feel terrified that you may never touch the ground. Break the sky. Become the sun.
Live your life in such a manner that at your funeral they don’t play a dirge mourning your death; instead, your successful run as a human is reminisced in a celebration that burns with energy and builds with all the impetus of a crescendo, the roll of the drums, the crash of the cymbals, all sounds that say – listen to this, it’s important.