Feel — February 20, 2018


There is variation. Variation in people. How some people are not effected by the problems others face. It doesnt effect them. How they can’t feel. How they have no empathy. How they are so shallow. Is it possible for a human to be human and not have ay of these. The thought that what if I end up being like that send chills down my spine. Yes I have seen poor people. Yes I have seen people at their worst. But I never get used to it. It is always new. Everytime it manages to get to me. Is this normal? Is it okay to feel so much?

Just Hold Her — February 13, 2018

Just Hold Her

Its funny how no one really knows you. Even the people who think they know you the most they dont. Like how you think that when I am hurt or pissed I will scream out i will fight and yell. When in reality it is totally opposite. If you ever yell at me all I would do is take a step back I wont talk about it. I will just take a step back on ever yell and every push you give me. If I am hurt you will only see it once in my eyes. Just a flash of pain. And then its gone. I will just go quiet I wont talk about it. Eating would become the most difficult task for me and even if I do eat something i won’t be able to keep it down. I talk very softly. I zone out of conversations. I would agree with you irrespective of what you are asking or saying. I wont object to anything. I wont gossip or have long converations hell i wont even make an effort to talk. And trust me you can ask me a bizillion times what is up and I won’t tell you. I wont give you the real reason ever. Sweetheart you are not suppose to ask me what is wrong. You are suppose to hug me tight. Give me one of the best hugs you can ever give. I might be stiff and i might not respond but believe me when I say that the walls will crack up and I will relax i your arms. I will put my head on your shoulder and give out a sigh and lightly place my hands on your back. Now during this if you feel something wet on your shoulder dont pull back and look at my face because even I can’t meet my own eyes when I am crying so all it would do is put me in a panic mode and I would turn into a frantic mess. Just hold me. Because in a situation like that all I need is a shoulder to cry on and protective arms to hold me so I know that when I break I do have someone forming a wall around me and when I can’t hide my tears there is someone doing it for me. And once you have given me a couple of minutes then ask me what is wrong and then I will spill every single detail of it as now all the hurt has washed away with them tears. Its crazy how no one has ever been able to understand this.

The Worst — October 13, 2017

The Worst

I am 7 months clean with only one relapse about one week ago. This is one of the greatest achievement considering the fact there were time when I had fresh cuts that were constant months. I remember that week when I used to do it every day. And my nastiest scars are from those days. I can recall the day 4 years ago when for the first time I did it all over my arm, and it was very deep so deep that because of the uncontrollable pain and blood flow I passed out for 3 hours in the lounge on the sofa waking up at 5 in the morning and it felt like I was on something intoxicating, my whole system my slow, tumblr_mp7chmj5pf1svwhkxo1_500.gifI moved slow I walked slow, and       I was pissed, pissed for waking up. Because the darkness and the peace I felt in those 3 hours was like the best feeling. I have never done drugs but I think this is what they would feel like if you do them when you are deep in depression with suicidal thoughts. I reached for the blade again, I just wanted to end it, and when I started doing it again I realized my cuts from 5 hours ago are still bleeding. In that moment my phone buzzed, my love had sent me an audio, it was a song “gone gone gone” by Philips Philips, but in the moment is felt like she was the one singing it to me. And I believed every single word of it.  It is when I put the blade down with tears in the my eyes that slowly start rolling down my flushed cheeks, and picked up the wet cotton balls and cleaned my wounds, found the warmest shirt with the longest sleeves. Curled on the bed with the song on the repeat and fell asleep.

In that moment. — January 18, 2016

In that moment.


She glided her hand through the soft hair that sat perfectly in an imperfect way on top of her head. Strands of hair very twirling around giving shape to her round face. Some say she is amazing as she is gentle and loving, However some believe that she is a sharp knife, but the truth is no one quite knows her well enough. She is a mystery. She always keeps to herself makes no friends keeps it low, yet people feel an attraction towards her which she doesn’t quite understands well either.
One night as she lays awake in her bed with all the thoughts tangled up in her head, gets up and starts pacing the hallways couldn’t comprehend as to what was wrong and what to do and that is when she lightly stepped on the stirs making sure no one wake up and head to the room that contains all her secrets. She opens the door runs her hand on the sleeping paint brushes who seemed dead as they were buried under the years of dust that kept hording on it. Filling the nearby container with water she slightly dipped the tip of the brush in it and then gifted it with rich color. In that moment she had no clue as to what were she doing it felt like she was driven by some invisible force as if she was enraptured in some kind of spell of hypnotism.
That moment of unawareness and vulnerability gave birth to a masterpiece. Such breathtaking display of aesthetically beautiful colors That when it got public through a series of events one couldn’t  say what it was yet when they saw it their heart skipped a beat. As they felt like a part of them was before their eyes like they could see themselves on that canvas for the first time. Somewhere deep in it there was hope which no one could see or feel but accepted it their hearts and the sub-consciousness of their minds.
while everyone was appreciating a gentleman observed an unusual writing on the painting where the artist signature is suppose to be. While he read the reading he looked behind himself and saw a young lady walking away whose hair sat perfectly in an imperfect way on top of head which strands that broke free of the tie. In that moment an eye contact was made which sealed a silent contract between the two with a tip of head and a loosely hanging smile. That was when he realized what the words actually meant. And those words were “in that moment”