A lot of my family will say that I became this way when my father died. That this was my way of mourning, acceptance, or lack thereof; becoming a recluse. Hide from the things that may hurt me. Be that people, possessions or even celebratory seasons. My family recommended my mum to take me to a counselling session, at least one. The first problem ( Read more... )

I sometimes wake up in the morning and think ‘I don’t feel like being alive today’. If only I could skip one ‘today’ and get closer to another ‘tomorrow’, and yet even that thought depresses me because for every ‘tomorrow’ there is a next day. It wasn’t that I was unhappy; at least being unhappy is a feeling. It was the absence of that. I felt ( Read more... )

 I had always heard that it was the little things in life that count. The little gifts on your birthday where, to other people, the appearance or even price tag may seem to promote its insignificance, but surely, to the receiver, was something priceless to the heart. It is also those moments where your eyes meet another’s for that crammed, yet ( Read more... )