the nativity

that’s right; your not-so-favourite, not-too friendly, not-in-your-neighbourhood, pretentious nyctophile turns a year old!!1!1!

(Oops, can we overlook the slight cynicism ^ we’v ebit of an occasion here haha)

Around the same hours of midnight – between eleven-thirty-ish, the evening of the tenth till the early hours, perhaps four on the morning of the eleventh of April, twenty-sixteen – a slightly more idealistic, self-assured teenager than myself of today found this blog.

Well, to be a little more truthful and copious; He’d found TheMonarchofMidnight several months before that in his own head, a little under two years ago from tonight. However, it hadn’t been christened then and so the boy – going through the most despondent and defining times of his life – had to put on hold any idea of beginning a blog for a bit.

Now as for the origins of his idea; they’d all come together swiftly and convincingly. It was truly fascinating how in the matter of a week, I’d revisited a defunct old Blogspot domain (my first blog :’) ), had my father explain in what way and to what extent a blog or YouTube channel of my own would affect my applications for further education and most significantly – I’d discovered three of the four most influential personal blogs in my life:

equivocal
thezaphnathlink
themaskedpharaohgiphy

Curated by my own friends a couple of years older than me, these were
people I already looked up to. And the material on their blogs cemented it – they’ve been some of the most influential people in my life and most definitely for TMoM. Apart from the fact that many a time their words gave me drive through challenging times, they indubitably set the stage for fledgling TMoM.

And for many months, after times had lost the roughening in them and I’d envisioned a blog of my own but being the perfectionist I was; I’d needed an idiosyncratic name, which the others seemed to have nailed in very genius fashion ^ xD like, for re
al.

It genuinely took that long just to figure out a name that sufficed to stand for me 😂

I’d really wanted this to be on the quieter side though; and so this is the only person, even to date, that I’ve discussed a blog of my own with in person.

[ENTER BEST FRIEND]

Which’d be Queertastic :’)

“Oh I have a blog too, I’ve just began actually” xD

She’s been everything these last two years. There’s nothing I haven’t shared with her and there’s been nobody in my entire life that I’ve learnt more from. The angel’s kept my engines running.

I’d actually introduced the the aforementioned blogs to her before that and to have another figure that I’d already looked up to, precede TMoM and even give birth to it – was incredibly valuable.

And soon enough of course, the four-word conglomeration that I’d been considering rolled off my tongue and Queertastic thought well of it too.

The only thing left to do:
A WordPress registration, early morning, 11/4/16 :’)
And hence, the impressionable Pikin‘s idea had now become his mantle.

The genesis of TMoM was symbol of me at my best; it came at the right time. And hence, this empowering, liberating blogspace is my Patronus against the Dementors of quotidian life (which I’m probably just too weak to handle).

Here’s to more from Midnight’s Very Own; au revoir 🙂giphy1

ode to anti-hero everyman.

(wowww it has been a while, hasn’t it? I apologise. I’m horrific under a workload. I often convince myself I have an XXL one as well ugh xD)
(on a more post content-related note; open your eyes because you’re almost always gonna find an anti-hero everyman, almost everywhere. always. everywhere. almost.)

Oh blind-side plus,
Won’t call someone outright “beautiful” or “intelligent”,
But you still know how to treat us.

Oh boy never-next-door,
You’ll say we’re “not-dumb” and “not-ugly”,
No wonder everyone thinks of you an extra bore,
But they never got to know you more.

Oh classroom anti-hero,
Not even you know
That you’re the quotidian key-role,
The bridge between the feel-good that grows
To make us feel-great, us undeserving minnows.

Exploited blind-side plus,
Angelic boy never-next-door,
My purposeful pulse,
Oh classroom anti-hero.

the coldest winter.

(exams right now: yay ugh. these ones carry the most significance in my life so far so ye what better way to take some pressure off than procrastinate [wasted far too much time yeesh] here, right?)

[Trice]: And what I had for you was a need,
And to be frank my core entertained it,
I held this need, so much I’m losing me
Again. The elegant touch of this pit
That holds despondent water with my head underneath;
My mirror’s bleeding from its mislead-wrists
But also from its teeth.

Memories don’t fade and the scars still linger,
Goodbye my friend;
Why’d I ever love again?
Memories made
In the coldest winter.

At the end of the day,
A monarch’s just a sinecure,
Equipped but never ready,
Feeling gifted, disillusioned and insecure.

I hate that memories retreat,
Their acquisition being the only
Argument against my frigid feet.
Hell; I’m only celibate, not holy.
But it didn’t stop me from
Crying into my sheets.

Believe me, bestie,
This is in no way an epitaph,
Prithee,
We’re not through; don’t leave, my other half,
Come with me,
Back to being intertwined
And thinking on each other’s behalf;
I’m not leaving.

Memories made in the coldest winter,
Goodbye my friend,
I won’t ever love again.
Never again.

It’s not just me shedding essence,
I hate to admit it but I have to accept
Irrevocably, a searing, dumbing absence
Of you. But;
Who’d I be without you?

(I didn’t mean to sweet-talk in any manner xD BUT HOW COULD I LEAVE THESE TWO OUT HUH? :’) )

well this has been dessicant *cri*.

(to start off with a little clarity, this is a “I haven’t been posting lately I cannaht” – post, yeah :/)

I’ll begin by exclaiming the fact that I really amn’t one for excuses. Honestly.

But it’s been a comparatively barren month, yeah.

I’ve had my preliminary mock exams taking up the largest part of the month, still not a worthy excuse.

*sigh* I’ve thirty-three drafts running and I open several every night but I can’t actually get around to writing anything ugh; it’s like cognition condition-zero here BLEH

Gah so yeah; this post doesn’t serve much of a purpose apart from the fact that it’s a little like a softcopy-slap in the face. That’s because seriously, who apart from myself actually reads this blog?

 

 

It takes a bit to realise that Superman’s greatest weakness wasn’t Kryptonite but the fact that he let himself be no more than a Cold War) weapon.The same goes for Doctor Manhattan. And a great majority of the rest of us.

It takes a bit to realise that Superman’s greatest weakness wasn’t Kryptonite but the fact that he let himself be no more than a Cold War) weapon.The same goes for Doctor Manhattan. And a great majority of the rest of us.

Clamp Down (My Face)

(do note: this glorious event took place some twenty-two hours ago and that would explain why this sounds like really unnatural writing ehh finally something I could shove in the face of people who told me I look like a good poet xD except this blog and its material isn’t open to people I know barring two so it’s not like I can actually show people this ugh)

Clamped down.
Do you know what waterboarding is?
Was that a no
I’d heard; thought so.

Lemme, use this opportunity
To educate ya fool,
You get one lesson in theory,
So do apprehend that water’s just a tool.

The only thing I felt before I rose,
Like the pick of the deep-fryer,
Was the heat, humidity
And a headache; all verbose.

Then found myself lying gratefully on the
Frigid bathroom floor that had flown to
Meet my jaw,
And I thought that was a fin to a vie sans amour.

Somehow swaying back to my feet,
A million annoying motivation songs
Flooded my ears otherwise kaput,
But the travail prolonged.

Two feeble tugs at the taunting towel
And an instinctive wrap-around,
Meant my pallid face
Would be the first sight when I was found.

Groped at the floor, fumbled into the door,
All I needed was to feel
The metal of the lock
But like my eyes and stream of thought:
I was just blocked.

No less-blinded
Two heaving breaths later,
I rolled out
On a steaming platter.

I still don’t know how long I lay there
But I got back up,
Dappled shoulders, brined hair,
I made a mistake, yup.

Only four slippery steps
And palm-marks on white walls,
And I was facedown yet again,
Expecting a pall.

But here, twenty-two hours in the future,
I haven’t yet seen Death’s embouchure,
And maybe I amn’t as beholden,
Don’t know how to end this;
And I find that golden.

(yeah well, I still don’t know if it was a blackout or did I even faint or what? I have been constantly ill for a little over two months now hmm. When I made it out the room; I walked out with a very indifferent demeanour, no doubt intentional. Heck, I forgot to look at the time as well xD Would have given me some clue as to what happened. Heh I just blew up a simple stagger and made it sound like I’m dying in like four-hundred words holy shit. Soon as I actually manage to binge-watch something; I can officially be the angsty teenager my parents are always complaining about 🙂 yay)

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