The feeling of life moving and shifting while I remain still and merely exist as it pulses around me. The sound of car tyres rushing along the bitumen and of feet hitting the pavement. The smell of gasoline as it escapes from a hot exhaust pipe. The feel of dry air and warm sun touching my skin as I sit on a park bench. Life is a series of moments that come together to paint a picture, which I call my story.Interlacing events, which build on top of each other to create my experience of the world around me.

I am only human and I only have so much time, what am I going to do with it all? My fear is that I won’t have enough to be able to achieve my goals and to move towards the success I want for myself. What can I do today to walk away from my fear, what can I do today to move closer towards my goals? What is the story I hope to tell and how do I want to tell it?

I am my own jigsaw puzzle. I have to solve myself first before I can imagine trying to solve everyone else. So, what is it that I want to say?

I want to be bigger and better than I already am. I want to be the biggest and the best that I can be. I will be all of this and more. I hope to be somebody, I will be somebody. 


Just because I’ve managed to stay whole doesn’t mean you have the right to try and tear me apart to ease your broken soul.

If you need help, I’m here for you. I’m only sorry that I didn’t see that you were in pain sooner and only found out when a close friend of yours told me. You’re still not over her, I understand, you must be in a lot of pain. If I had known, I probably would not have slept with you. But you didn’t have to take your frustration out on me. Calling me names and degrading me, all because of the fact that you and I had carnal knowledge of each other. Maybe it was your way of protecting yourself, your way of stopping me from developing feelings, your way of venting how used you felt after it happened. I don’t know exactly why you said all those mean things and the silly thing is, neither do you. I was angry at you for treating me that way, especially because I didn’t understand why. But knowing now what you went through, what you’re still going through, I understand a little better. It doesn’t justify your actions but I can empathise with you and I feel sorry for you.

I hope you find peace within yourself and make peace with the people around you.

I would much rather see you smile and just so you know, I’ll be trying my best to make your face light up. 


I thought I was in love, an easy mistake to make when my brain was filled with nothing but chemicals and hormones telling me it was so. It was an illusion that fell apart too late. Our bodies got the best of us before our minds could see reason.

Our time meant nothing, to either of us because it wasn’t that kind of relationship. I was left with disappointment and longing when I realised love was not built on lust.

What made it more difficult was the fact he couldn’t treat me the same as before. He became mean spirited and would find ways to tease me or prove that he felt absolutely nothing for me. I tried to be kind and play along with the secret that nothing happened between us but he didn’t seem to know how.

He began by telling me he hated me when we first saw each other after the act. It felt unfounded and uncalled for, even if he didn’t mean it. I didn’t understand, I still don’t even if he meant it as a joke. What was he trying to prove, that he had no feelings for me? That wasn’t the best way to prove it. After I asked him about it he stopped saying,

“I hate you,” instead he began finding other ways of being mean and insulting and rude. Even though he might not have meant it and he was trying to let other people know that there was nothing going on between us, it still hurt.

What bothers me most of all is how he can’t seem to speak to me whenever I approach him. Just talk to me like you would have before, how is it any different? Why do you have to ignore me and pretend like I don’t deserve your time or energy? Nothing is different from before, just talk to me like you do with everyone else. You don’t even smile when you see me, is there something wrong with me? Did I do something wrong? I would really just like to talk to you, as friends. If you don’t want to be friends, that’s fine, the least you could do is tolerate me and treat me like you do everyone else.

I’m a sensitive soul who deserves respect and to be treated kindly. I don’t know what he expects if he keeps going on like this. If he doesn’t want this to go on. All he has to do is say so.

Men are not men when they behave like boys.


Who am I?

A list of things I like doing:

  • Writing
  • Singing
  • Talking to people and learning about their stories
  • Cooking
  • Listening to stories
  • Learning languages and hearing them
  • Learning about other countries
  • Thinking about travelling (I have yet to plan a trip)
  • Thinking about creating things (I fail in doing because a part of me is afraid. I am in the process of slowly taking down the wall of fear)

A list of things I care about:

  • Family
  • Friends
  • The environment
  • Finding balance in my life
  • Feeling one with nature
  • Living in an environmentally friendly way
  • Art and culture
  • People and connecting with them

A list of things that are important to me:

  • Family
  • Friendship
  • Living out my beliefs and values
  • Living a less materialistic lifestyle
  • My health
  • Being true to myself

Arbitrary days

Life is random. We try to make sense of it by believing we have a path that we can walk along.

We convince ourselves that the people we meet, the places we go to, the decisions we make occurred because there was reason in it. What if it’s not?

There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s OK. Life is a series of arbitrary events that make each individual’s story unique.

Our brains can’t fathom the idea that our memories are composed of chance encounters. So, we rearrange and manipulate our past until they form connections so that we can better understand our present and move towards the future. Doing that, life doesn’t seem so random.

‘You’re beautiful’

No one has ever told my sister that she is ugly. I asked her myself,

‘Has anyone ever said that you are “ugly”?’


There are days when she looks in a mirror with me in the room and she says,

‘I am ugly.’

I wonder how often she repeats these words to herself when there’s no one listening. I tell her,

‘That’s not true, you’re beautiful.’ I say it over and over again until she tells me to stop. That’s when I look into her eyes and say,

‘You’re beautiful.’

My sister was not taught to hate the way she looks. Her insecurities grew because she was surrounded by images of an “ideal” that she couldn’t turn herself into. She was assaulted with “views” and “looks” that were manufactured to symoblise ‘perfection.’ A notion that was impossible for such a young girl to carry on her shoulders.

As she couldn’t attain her “ideal self” that the society around her so cruelly asked for, she came to a simple conclusion. She was ‘ugly.’

With some encouragement slowly, my sister is beginning to accept the person that she is. She has a way to go but I know she is strong. She’s beginning to see that there are more important aspects that make her who she is and it’s not just about the way she looks.

There are too many people out there telling themselves things that are not true. What they need is someone looking from the outside to recognise the person that is within.

Look after those around you. Tell them they are beautiful.


I’ve spent a lot of time thinking. So much time that I miss out on actually doing things. I can’t help it. I’ve always been a thinker. I don’t do much with my thoughts. Occasionally I write them down if they get too much but for the most part, I spend a lot of time wandering through corridors, opening and closing doors, and staring out imaginary windows. I’m a dreamer.

Lately though, I’ve been thinking about turning some of those dreams into reality. The thing is, I don’t know which one to choose. I float aimlessly from thought to thought without really caring too much about what it means. I recently realised that I do this in real life too. I walk around hoping to find something, something meaningful, something worthwhile, anything that could make my journey through life clearer or if I’m feeling optimistic, add purpose to it. So far, I haven’t found anything.

I’ve been trying to find meaning in my life for a long time. At the moment, I’m going through the motions. Each step I take, I hope to get closer to my true ‘calling,’ but no matter how hard I look, the path becomes windier and more overgrown that I lose track of where it leads.

I try to find inspiration by watching videos, listening to what other people have to say, reading, and looking up into the sky. Strange as it may sound, looking up makes everything feel small and insignificant, and I feel calm. Cloudy days, sunny days, it doesn’t matter. As long as I can look up into the sky, I’ll know that at the very least, I’m trying.

Sometimes I wish I had a passion for something. No, I wish I had a passion.

Maybe life wouldn’t seem so scary if I actually knew what I was doing.