I got myself into a bit of a turmoil ever since I hit 26. It has been a series of hospital visits, sick leaves and drugs and sympathy and to be honest depression! I have battled depression, not the one that you want to be left alone- of course I wanted to be left alone but the dark kind, the kind that made me wake up in the middle of the night one day and think which object would do the job faster. Will they know that I am dead? Or will someone have to intervene and destruct my death? I played around with the idea of death so much it went into my head- dominated my thinking .Not once have I thought that I could just stand in front of the car and let it hit me and get the job done- not once! I have time and time again orchestrated my death with no success. I often say to my friends and anybody who could listen that I was living on borrowed time. They didn’t believe me. I WAS TIRED. I didn’t want to wake up, I didn’t want to be alive anymore. I wanted to give up, give in and look beyond. I often wondered if they would find me and who would find me first. See I lived alone and worked. I loved my work, there very few things that I loved and my work took precedence over many things. I needed to work to be sane and yet here I was lost and almost giving up – key word – almost. It seemed like a long stretch of a night when I had to cry myself to sleep and if you asked why I cried, I had no good answer. I just felt SAD, ANGRY AND ALONE despite him always trying his best to be there, Mum, dad, siz. It always felt easy to let go than continue. I think this is how they feel, when it’s not about anyone else but what you feel inside. When nothing and no one can counter what you are feeling! Letting go feels so easy. Let them be, it is okay to not be okay. It is perfectly okay to be behind to focus on what makes you happy. It is okay to feel what you feel and you know what just like the night- the day comes oh too soon. IT SHALL SOON PASS.




The paradox

“The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just as I am, then I can change.” – Carl Rogers Most of us struggle with the issue of identity. We struggle with gaining enough self-confidence and self-esteem in order to properly navigate through life. And we struggle because we somehow feel inadequate. There’s a voice inside […]

via The Paradox — Cristian Mihai


It has been a year since I last posted anything,I have been fortunate enough to journey in different paths of my life, I have realized what I really wanted to do in life is make believe,I have lost, i have gained,I have found a new bit of me.

I was a bit scared that writing took a piece of me but it is not in writing that that piece was completely lost!So yes,I am back- let’s catch up!


More wine please?Where did we leave it at…?

Of the dark

Because you have decided,

I shall let you be

I shall let you take away

my friends,my family,my conscious

because living is just but an illusion of the head.





THE point?

Whatever  begins,sets in  time

just like you ,

shed ,brisk in to the thin air,

you will end.

so what is the point of living ?

you may ask?

the point of living is knowing that one day you shall end.

it is the only sure thing.


Sometimes I am afraid to write, sometimes I shun myself from writing because it delves into me like a narrow tunnel and makes me go through things I would rather forget. I am afraid of my writing yet at the same time I cannot do without writing. Sometimes it is the only get away I get to have, the only person willing to hear my story, the only way I can let it all out and not fear that they will turn their backs on me. Sometimes writing is more of a hobby and at times I miss it terribly .While other times I just don’t even want to think about writing ,I don’t want to go there, I do not want to feel vulnerable and so I do not write .That will have me carry the burden for many days until I write. I should write .I will write. I have no option other than to write. So I write.

So I take my laptop and open the word page and start writing. A few words at first, my heart so heavy ,so enchanted .The words have been dancing through my head none stop these previous weeks and so now I try my luck to write. I try my luck to at least pride myself in coming up with words that make a little more sense to more than just me. I gather all the courage and promise myself that this time I will write it all, and let go off this burden and then I open the MS word. The blinking cursor stares at me. Almost mocking my inability to come up with words. Mocking my over attempted efforts to write. Then I scorn it at first and dare to prove it wrong. I think that probably writing about writing would work the magic off and probably get me on a writing spree. So I start to explain how I feel like, something like “sometimes I am afraid to write…”

…and the cursor keeps blinking!

Damn sometimes I hate writing and yet I love it so much!


Maria’s Story


She slept with her jeans on. I had a boner the whole night until my navel hurt. You could smell her woman and I ran fingers along the hem of her denim hipster. Her back shook. Twitched. But when I tried to snake my fingers down her panties, she slapped my wrists.

Like darts, I poked her face with my tongue tip. It helps blood circulate your face, I told her. This is the most beautifulest face I’ve seen in my life as a painter. Of words. I’m beautiful if you close your eyes. She said. And I dreamt of her naked.

For seven days we cuddled. No sex. Are we lovers or something? I said NO. Then don’t breathe like that. I kissed her forehead and I think her third eye chakra must have opened.

During the night we tickled each other and giggled. During the day we kissed…

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