Want.

I keep on thinking that some things are kinda taboo to talk about. Not things like sex, but things like certain emotions. Like that heavy article I read in the morning of them breaking up. I feel as if we are okay with feelings of love being aired, or sadness after being jilted by the

From a Sunday to a Monday girl.

Happiness found in laughters that seem to come from an endless spring inside of me. Sadness that is made worse by the breakup of one of my favorite authors in my country. And pictures to forever remind me that life is kind sometimes. Which one goes first? Sundays. Sundays were always intense days for my

Weep

Its not okay. Mourn. Listen to sad songs and let your grief carry you away woman. Reopen your scars. Cry. And if you can’t cry weep. And if you can’t weep, wail. But let it all flow. Exorcise those demons out of your soul. Let the shame and guilt flow like a river. You are

Of tough times and healing..

Dear younger me, I write this letter to warn you of tough times ahead. Of things no one tells you at your age. Not to scare you but to prepare you. For I know how much you hate spontaneity(unless its an adventure; duh!) They tell you that being out of your parent’s care and support

About Being.

Once upon a time I was an uptight person. Rigid. Purely black and white. If you knew me this year and came next year, you would find the exact same person you left, just an year older. I loved routine. I’ve always loved plans. I stuck to the ones I made. My decisions were final.

So Help me God.

We like talking about our successes more than the challenges and difficulties we experience. God knows I love my high points in life. My lows are usually also really bad.  But today I’ll talk about something I’ve struggled with. A blog. And not this one. Courtesy of being here, you know I love writing. Its

This period.

I went for an impromptu interview yesterday. Impromptu because I didn’t even know that the job existed and neither was it in my field of expertise.  I stumbled through the answers. Whatever I had prepared for in that last one hour wasn’t asked. I was asked about myself. And I stammered. This selling myself to

CHANGE

I’ve just stumbled on my old playlist. Music has always been an important part of my life. That cheerleader who is always there in both good and bad times. Every time I hear an old song, my mind goes back to its season, what my life was about during that time when I replayed that