Dear Sagittarius, Let’s talk!

my horoscope today tells me that:

Life: even if problems in your personal life keep persisting, you’re tackling them in the best way possible. you are full of energy and motivation this week and things at work are advancing at lightning speed.

Love: Venus and Saturn are getting you down this week and you could even get lonely and isolated in your relationship. If you sense a tension between you and your partner, think about it, think before you speak or you risk hurting your lover.

horoscope is such a funny matter. even if you don’t believe in it, even if you think that it’s a distortion to the way you’re leading life, it still talks to us uninvited. Anyways, I decided that having conversations with my horoscope daily would pin me down (if I might use this expression) and obliges me to write back. I want to trick myself into writing, to decipher every day the chunks and bits of me that only God knows how much disperse they are getting. So, dear my Sagittarius, my sign that yet again I did not choose, I’m conversing with you daily to prove to myself that I still can talk back. I might stutter in the very beginning, for I forgot the process of deep talking. So excuse my poor language, my ill- chosen expressions and my involuntary ellipsis. And here we go:

you told me today that problems in my personal life are persisting. Well, you’ve got that right. For starters, I grew weary of counting the days of me being down in the dumps, you clinging onto an unlucky star. Yet, you definitely didn’t get the second part right. I’m not tackling them let alone tackling them in the best way possible. I’m a poseur par excellence, that is my rapport with life at the time being. I’m vegetating and I am literally posing for the main painter, life, to create its own portrait. I don’t care if it’s vibrant and lively with sparkling colors or dull and fatigable creation. Although I know that the latter might be a more faithful interpretation of who I am at the moment. Let’s move on, am I really full of energy and motivated this week? If you say so! But thank you, I do feel flattered. See, my dear Sagittarius, I feel that I’m a big liar. I was just telling you how miserable I feel, and then, without resistance, I jumped into the same boat of positivity heedless and jubilant. As for love, I really refuse to talk about it at the time being, really unable to even address it

On coping with writer’s block (or the lies we tell ourselves along the way)

A Great read!

Black coffee and cigarettes

writing 2

I haven’t written in a very long time.

I joined a creative writing class a while ago to help me through my ‘writer’s block’ – can you call yourself a writer if you don’t write? – and I managed to produce a total of 500 words over the entire four-week course. A paltry amount by any standards, though the course itself was brilliant.

One of the suggestions from my fellow writers was to write about why I don’t write. I’ve been thinking a lot about the reasons I don’t write lately so this seemed as good a place to kick off my writing again as any. And also address why I call myself a writer in the first place – a hard sell in the writing void of the last few months.

In my professional life, I have been a public relations consultant, a journalist and now, an editor. Words play…

Voir l’article original 1 486 mots de plus

Journal intime

intimacy, how shall I define it. It’s the feeling that you need your dose of solitude, and it soon drives you into an overdose of loneliness. Not that is necessarily bad or anything, but when our minds start to create their own independent worlds, it doesn’t have to be rosy, nor is it a courageous stance singling us out from the herd. in my case, my overdose of solitude is a sign of my mind being extremely tired, my soul worn out and both cry for a sort of intangible, unseen, miraculous help. Once your mind becomes your worst enemy, make sure you get out of the fight sound and safe. Though unlikely, you have to do your best not to let it be your fiercest enemies, but your best allies. It’s not easy, I know, I’m still there, swinging between being lethargic, super active, crying and smiling without an obvious reason, and most of all, snatching myself away from the people I love, by hurting them a lot so that they have to reject me. It is as if I need to fill my heart with as many stupid and hurtful things as possible, so that I can find my way through a forced process of cleansing, for I know I am not the kind of people who can carry on a life scarring people here and there. Yet, the disaster is that I can carry on living holding a grudge against myself, against my life, holding my aching heart into my hands and bleeding non stop…p03l60lz


This is my last resort to sanity. I am sick and tired of the games of my minds, so I have surrendered to insanity, and I decided to lay bare all of my darkness at once. Maybe, if I become the black hole that sucks my energy, I might be able to subvert that kind of negative power, and survive again. I have shut myself in the black heart of mine, I’ve uprooted any good in me, I’ve bled to death and I have denuded myself to myself. I found no other way to remain alive, in fact, that way found me. Haven’t held a pen for ages, nor did I scrub some notes here and there, leaving some blood in the trail of my pain. Had I intended to write something rosy, like I used to do when in trouble, I would find myself incarcerated in an infinity of lies and false hopes. So here I am, dark, hopeless, weak, mean and any other possible negative adjective, here I am, naked in front of me, and maybe you. I don’t know if there would be readers , if so, I apologize in advance for the great amount of helplessness I diffuse in my words. Yet, if you choose to carry on reading, then you become complacent in this sphere of trenchant pain, and unopologized I shall be! When a fleeting sentiment of sadness persists, when it holds a tightened grip on your soul, when it conquers the tiny pulse that you once had in you, then you become sick, then I become sick. If recognizing that there is a problem is half of the cure, sometimes believing you’re sick becomes the emblem of your bad shape. That’s what happened to me, I kept on denying that my sadness ain’t going away, that my lifestyle is changing drastically, and worse, that I am changing from thepapaaaaa very bottom of my heart. I fought for a while, but then, when I gave my state a name, the name knocked me out, K.O. Depression is the name, and Hela is me. Hela that once thought that her name resonates with halo in form as in meaning, now believes that it’s more into hell. Welcome!