Of a broken heart…

Of a broken heart…

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And she wondered how one heals, from a broken heart. What if the pieces flutter to a far away land? What if the holes burnt deep, fibrous and scar? What If the saying was right, love lost can’t be back? Under the glistening moon, her reflection stared back. And the memories storm bringing moist to her eyes. And she cursed at herself for falling for a man, whose heart was incapable of loving back.

And she wondered how one heals from a broken heart? How a one sided love could make one feel alive? How a person could crush her without even trying? How she broke all her rules falling for that one wrong guy? How reality could be, so cruel to her side? How she knew but didn’t say No the very first time? How she let her heart lead her straight to it’s down fall? How all shades of wrong could feel so right at the same time?

The face in the river, she didn’t recognize. She yearned for the innocence of her past life; where love was a stranger and her heart was intact; life dealt her a blow from which she still shuddered. She fell for an angel, in the blink of an eye; forgetting every coin has got two sides. Now she sits at the bank wondering, how to heal from a broken heart.

IMAGE CREDIT: deviantArt.com

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Writers Quote: being a writer

Writers Quote: being a writer

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The past few weeks took it’s toll on me, in a good way. I felt something I haven’t felt before, it was magical to say the least; unexpected and wonderful. I’ve always said I love to write but this time, it was different. I sit at a table, tea In hand and I feel it in every nerve cell in my body, that Joy which I’ve only ever read about. That in-depth passion which some writers talk about- I actually felt it. And it’s an amazing feeling.

I’ve spent the last two weeks smiling and thanking God for the gift of writing. For the first time, I feel in tune with writing- like it’s something, I never want to live without. There is a point in every writer’s life where they know for a fact, there is no going back from writing. I feel I have reached that stage, and If not, then this is a start for me.

This feeling, it’s not a burst of inspiration where you feel like you can go on days writing. It’s writing a brief piece, reading it back and smiling, feeling contented. It’s a tree of Joy sprouting within as you read every word appearing on the screen/paper and at that moment, you know, this writing- you can’t stop it even if you wanted to. And as tight as your schedule is, you make time for it. You make time for writing cause you know, you are a writer. That’s all there is to it.

This is my submission for Silver Threading’s writer’s quote Wednesday. You are welcome to participate with a writers quote which you find inspiring. The more, the merrier, just click on the link above.

Flash Fiction: Snapped

Flash Fiction: Snapped

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Miss Blanche was an OCD, pattern obsessed lovely neighbor. Each day, she got out at a certain time, washed, cleaned, shopped and my favorite- painted in the middle of her picturesque garden which I, as the only neighborhood kid then, was given the honor of an open invitation at all times.

She’d stand in her garden, wearing a pink top and black pant and work the magic of her paint brush onto the board. She didn’t talk much, which suited me fine because all my attention was on her work of art which always turned out spectacular. That was our life until twelve years back.

I awoke one morning to find a yellow tape around Miss blanche’s house. She had been charged with first degree murder of her husband, following 62 stab wounds in their living room. I didn’t believe it until she pled guilty in court. That day I learnt something about humans, for a darling like Miss Blanche to snap, Lord only knows what goes on in married homes.


word count: 170. This post is in response to flash fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge. This week’s photo prompt was provided by Graham Lawrenece, Thank you! If you would like to participate or read other flash fiction stories, just click on the link above.

The universe raged-

The universe raged-

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The waves raged,
Against the shore;
The earth crackled,
To exult it’s force;
Thunder roaring,
At crack of light;
The universe in uproar,
At your demise.

They raged for you-
Your light, dimmed;
Growling fiercely,
In different manners;
I pled to you,
rage against death;
The universe answered,
And raged instead.

The wind howled,
Tree leaves shuddered;
Rain fall splattered,
In angry retort;
The universe begged
For you to fight;
A final glance,
I knew you were gone.
The universe roared…

IMAGE CREDIT: the beautiful image above is courtesy of  Political metaphors.com

Her: The intricate puzzle

Her: The intricate puzzle

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She had never been whole. She was a collage of uniquely designed pieces. With each person she trusted, she gave a piece. With each one she loved, she gave a piece. They never really knew her, only the pieces she let them see.

Some were handed a glimpse of her childhood, stories of her pranks; some her laughter, the events which made her smile; a few, her passions- the pieces which lit her eyes; a minute, she gave her sorrows, the memories that tug at her heart.

And some, she swore to take her grave, the pieces no one knew she had. The dark patches, the mystery behind who she was. She thought it a burden to lay it on people; she could barley handle it, how could they. Those pieces she kept close to her.

Those dark pieces, were the borders of the intricately designed puzzle of “her” without which she could never really be figured.

And she smiled knowing, although soon enough, the abnormal cells within her would win, the pieces she left with the ones she loved would illuminate her memories. She gave them the light she needed them to see.

Each person a different piece, a different memory, a different reflection of history, a different light. She was a uniquely designed puzzle.

IMAGE CREDIT: Gallerygogopix.net

Only a moment-

Only a moment-

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And I know
You’re a disaster,
Waiting to occur;
A volcano,
Waiting to erupt;
But for a brief moment
I give in to delusions-
Hoping maybe,
It’ll be roses
‘Stead of molten;
And you’ll be my charming
‘Stead of the reality
I know, you are.

The brief moment-
Was all it took,
To smear your molten,
And burn wounds;
But honey,
It was only a moment-
It hurt,
It burns,
I’ll survive.
You deluded
Me with words;
But you can be charming
For only so long,
Before reality,
Deals you
An unwelcoming knock.
I won’t stick around
To soothe or numb;
I hoped you were charming,
I was wrong…

Flash Fiction: Sir and The Lady

Flash Fiction: Sir and The Lady

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He stood chest out, hands on hips, staring down the soul of the horses. It was like he was daring them. Snowy and browny were the only two horses with enough courage to raise their head while the others bowed to Sir’s domineering presence.

What the lovely Lady Dominica saw in him, the horses wondered. Sir was nothing more than an empty barrel with little empathy towards anyone but himself, they gossiped. The horses knew the moment lady Dominica said “yes” to the cocky son of a gun’s proposal, they’ll be the first to go. It was a miserable thought.

Lady Dominica had found out about sir’s underhand plans. She strode down the ranch, looked Sir in the eyes and proclaimed, “Sir, you can shove your proposal up your…“, she caught herself, not wanting to curse in front of her horses. She turned around to walk away then said, “Oh, and I’m keeping the ring. Now we are even”.


word count: 159. This story is in response to flash fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge. This week’s photo prompt is provided by Scott, author of the blog Scott’s Place, Thank you. And now to some conspiracies, what do you think Sir must have done to Piss Lady Dominica off that much?

Mental Health Friday #7

Mental Health Friday #7

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If we truly do want stigma gone, we have to start treating ourselves better. We need to stop seeing ourselves the way stigma says we should. Acceptance and compliance to treatment does not make us weak, it means we see our limitations and that is a part of strength. Compliance to treatment says we are not ashamed. If I want to be treated well, I must first treat myself well. If I want someone to believe in me, I must first believe in myself. If I want someone to understand something, I need to first understand it myself. That is my responsibility.

This is an excerpt from my last post here on Ameena’s blog. I can not tell you that I have always treated myself as well as I do now. I can not even say that I treat myself as well as I should. What I can say is that I have learned on an extremely difficult road that if I don’t treat myself well, no one else will. If I don’t like myself I will change myself for other people. If I change myself for other people, I will never be with people that actually like me. If I am with people that don’t actually like me, how will I know it is ok to like myself? It sounds like a trap and it is. We trap ourselves, every time we accept less, we trap ourselves.

It is hard to step back and look at the trap we are in. No one around us sees us any better than the way we treat ourselves and so, when looking to our fellows for reassurance, which is normal by the way, we get none.

The thing is, we know. We know we are capable, yet we doubt ourselves when we look for reassurance from others and it is not there. In my life I have allowed myself to feel so low about myself and my life that I was spending my time just waiting to die.

Shortly after I was diagnosed with Bi-Polar disorder in 2001 my life changed and I crashed. My husband at the time had been complaining quite a bit about the behavior of my son, who had also been recently diagnosed. My husband was also looking at me differently. He suddenly decided I wasn’t good at paying the bills, although I hadn’t had any problems doing so. He became quite controlling as though I were a child and everything I wanted to do became something he doubted I could do. Driving the hour to Boston, especially at night. Everything became something I should doubt that I could do and I did doubt myself. As I failed and the behavior of my son got worse, my husband and I argued all the time, me constantly defending my son. Everything just seemed to fall apart and the stress level was at a dangerous point.

I went to my son’s therapist and with her sitting with me, I called the Department of Social Services and reported myself. My claim was that I was afraid I was going to hurt my son. When I met with the woman at DSS, she asked me if I wanted her to open a case and I told her I did. I went through investigation and my claim was unfounded. However, this did get some help to come out to my house. I was then deferred to an organization called MSPCC. A woman was sent to my house to sit with me and help me to get respite services for my son.

Before I go on, I want to say that I do not believe any of this situation was directly caused by my son’s behavior. I believe more that his behavior was worsened to a great degree by the stress in the house. Read more

Mental Health Friday #6

Mental Health Friday #6

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What NOT to say to an ill person:

1)“You look terrible. How are you feeling?”: I am pretty sure if a person looks terrible, chances are, they feel terrible too. And I am also sure the right conforming answer here would be: I’m fine

2) “You’re looking thin, you sure have lost a lot of weight, I know its hard but you should really eat.”: I should point here that for a person going through chemo, this is totally inappropriate, because a) they do not have the appetite to eat courtesy of nausea and vomiting b) it doesn’t matter how much they eat, weight loss is a side effect of the chemo.

3)”Awe you don’t look so good, treatments are rough eh?”- but of course they are rough. Drugs especially, psychotropic drugs change the biological and chemical balance in our body.

4)”Well my (mum, dad, uncle, friend, relative) had a similar problem and they tried (?????) and it worked. You should do that cause it makes it go away”

5) “You’re looking a little stressed. Are your treatments going ok?”: and if you say they aren’t, I have a feeling the next statement would be no(6) below.

6) “well just keep praying”.

The above list was compiled and sent to me by Colin from meandray.com who is one of my greatest Mental Health Friday supporters since day one.

And it’s another Friday, which means another Mental Health Friday. I would love to do another of this list. So, if you were having a chronic Illness or mental illness, what are some of the things you wouldn’t want someone to say to you? Please leave a comment and I’ll be sure to include it in next week plus the link.

P.S: an MHF story would be published later in the day. Stay tuned and looking forward to hearing from you.

IMAGE CREDIT: Whisper.sh

My top 9 Talents you won’t want!

My top 9 Talents you won’t want!

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After reading JoyRoses Monday post on top 9 talents you won’t want, I got motivated to write down mine. I mean, it’s about time we embrace wholeheartedly our quirks. So here goes:

1) I have a predisposition to breaking things including cups, plates, buckets and my latest, our glass dining table which after paying 100 dollars for repair, my brain sent a message to my body to settle down a bit.

2) I can forget like it is nobody’s business. I went to the supermarket a few days ago and when I got to the counter (with all of my goodies) and It was time to pay, I opened my purse and realized I left my money at home. It was not a funny scene.

3) My brain (yes I’m blaming it again) doesn’t interpret sarcasm. You could say a sarcastic comment to me and in all seriousness, I’ld ask you to kindly elaborate.

4) The only animal that doesn’t petrify me is probably a goldfish and that too because I don’t have to touch it. I dislocated my hip-joint while running away from a cockroach which in my defense (okay, I have no defense here!).

5) I am an embarrassingly morbid procrastinator. I would pay anyone to take this talent (if I may call it that). P.s If you have any tips on getting rid of it, I’m all ears. Tried the to-do list method, didn’t work.

6) periods! Yup, it’s been a while since it’s made an appearance on my posts. One of my biggest talent is getting my period at the most inappropriate time. Like while wearing a white skirt outside, or In the middle of lectures… The list goes on.

7) I am worrible at reading in-between the lines. Dear future husband, in case you are reading this. Don’t tell me things like- you make my heart have irregular ventricular contractions. Seriously.

8) I have a talent of catching the flu. As long as I make contact with someone who has the flu, chances are I am going to get sick too. It doesn’t help there are over 100 serotypes. Which means if I get infected and resistant to one strain, there are 99 others waiting.

9) I once drew what I thought was a beautiful replica of the Nigerian map for my geography class and I was told it looked like a yam. That’s how good my drawing is.

…..and that’s it. My top nine talents you won’t want (which may or may not indicate that there are more). Now it is your turn, what are your top nine talents that we won’t want. I would love to nominate everyone reading this to share their top 9, come on guys, let’s embrace our quirks.