Voices In Her Head

You realise you haven’t changed a bit, preach the world of how life is to be lived, under a delusion of a transformation, a new enthusiasm. A small expectation slaps you back to reality. Now lament.

Nothing external can change your core values. Nothing outside can scoop those insecure voices in your head into a soft hug and cradle them quiet. What you are left with are recalled nightmares, hollowness, and more expectations. And it breaks the fragile heart. Continue reading “Voices In Her Head”

Oobleck from water.

I have always been a VERY insecure person. And yes, I shamelessly admit it. I have been insecure about the way I look, about how I am usually rotting alone in the classroom  (Not anymore, I have the most awesome weirdo squad!) about everything around me!

I even think I am much of a Gilderoy Lockhart in what I write. Borrowed, shiny words of other adventurous experiencers! (I am pretty sure that is(n’t) a word. Aren’t you? And if let to continue, I know I can go on forever about how badly I suck at pretty much everything. I’m my own roast master!

But I have faith in me. I know I will get better over time. I know what I write is becoming more and more ME by the day. From a liquid that takes shape of the container to becoming a firm solid on dynamic surfaces, I have faith.

From getting original to this blog and getting the hang of original design thinking. What you write is what you leave behind. A piece of your intellect, a part of your soul. You are still alive through your work. (No Horcrux needed.) Only you make you YOU. The more the time with yourself you spend, the more authentic a person you become. The person inside is eager to come out. Give her a chance. Break free.


The Type-Addict.




The Journey Begins

ask blackboard chalk board chalkboard
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

To some of us, writing comes naturally. To some others, it is a forced habit. But what motivates anyone to write is that we are about to leave a permanent mark on the world which defines our individuality, the essence of our being.

My experiments with this amazing form of expression, started with the diary entries of a silly tween, mid teen became my punchbag until I realized what it had come to become. An ego massage for cowards not bold enough to confront. And then I began again. And again. (Oh this is my third.)

But now, the page has been turned, the old chapter closed. Here, my journey begins. And I make a commitment. Along the way, sharing the silliest, craziest, most embarrassing stories of a ranter.

What a good day to start!