Blinding flashes. White. Sparks. The sounds. Click. Click. Click. A synchronised symphony of camera buttons pushed at the same time. The name rings in a distance. Like the last remnants of an echo. Time slows. It replays the scene in slow motion. The sounds muffle or magnify but are heard as noises from a distance. …
It’s one of those days. The rare occurrence that I am up before sunrise. I stand in the kitchen and watch the sun climb higher. I could stare forever. At the angry, rising mass of fire. Clear skies, pale bands of colour spreading thin across them. A faint glow settling over everything. A perfect morning….
I see myself slipping. Again. I picture a room—the last floor of my mind. It should be nourished, swept, kept free of cobwebs. The base, the foundation strong enough to hold a multi-storeyed apartment. And yet, it’s a dark room. The lights are always out, not because of the bulbs, but because the wiring is…
Dear Diary, If I quit beating around my feelings in metaphorical bullshit, would it count as creative non-fiction? If I lay bare my thoughts and feelings and just talk like a 40-year-old woman done with life, complaining over mimosa to no one in particular, bitching with satire about how her father screwed her up emotionally?…
They say writing is freedom. I’m still trying to believe that. Even now, as I work on the second draft of my thriller novel, I sometimes hold back. I grit my teeth and wrestle with myself on every page. It is taking a lot of unlearning to break that. I want to dive headlong into…
Some days, I forget how to be human. That’s when I need to touch grass—literally. Not poetically. Not ironically. Just to remember I have a body. Not in a soft-lit, aesthetic way, but in the desperate sense of needing to return to something real. Something alive. My brain short-circuits. My emotions scramble. I forget how…
It’s 1:16 AM, and I’m spiraling. Not in the way that’s loud or visible. Just a slow, quiet kind of unraveling — the kind that starts with a thought and ends with a memory. The kind that makes me question everything: the people I’ve trusted, the friendships I’ve held close, the version of myself I…
Being by myself had never been a problem. I could disappear into books, slipping from one story to the next, living in worlds that weren’t my own. It was the perfect escape—a way to keep my feelings at arm’s length, promising myself I’d deal with them later. Just like clicking “Remind me tomorrow” on a…
Do you know what it feels like to drown? It’s not sudden. First, the water pulls you in, wrapping itself around you like an embrace. You fight, your body instinctively struggling against the currents. But the waves keep coming, relentless and uncaring. Eventually, your strength fades. Water fills your lungs, and you stop fighting. That’s…
I left you when I was lost, standing in the dim light of my room, the shadows clinging to the walls like my doubts. The air felt heavy, thick with uncertainty, as if each breath I took was weighed down by the weight of my decisions. It hurt to cling on, each tug like a…