And now I'm entirely hollow, I've spent time drawing & the process brought me to a whole peaceful spectrum where even the voices in my head thrives to stay low, but then when its done, when its done, I, I don't know what to feel.. Well I guess I expected to feel whole, or like full of accomplishment or bliss or something, but, but the drawings or the portraits of people I sketch stares back coldly and creates this vacuum of right, nothingness. I don't feel tired or drained out or sad, just.... what now?

Have you ever had moments when an image of the love you lost remains cryptic when you need them the most but pops out in the darkest nights, taunting you in luminous favor? Like they're the goddesses of surreptitiousness who decides when to show up and leaves whenever they feel like it and offer no reason to you whatsoever, like destiny or fate, who keeps asking us to wait patiently to understand the full picture. For fuck's sake man.

I've known a person who stays numb on drugs, who believes in god, but continues taking drugs because he feels like god doesn't believe in him. he has done every righteous thing in his pathway when met with choice and loved every being like his own brother, but still doesn't get it what he has been doing wrong. this is the time you need an answer, a guidance, or just a little ray of light enough for you to build your faith on, like the fertilizer on the base of the soil that keeps the flowers empowered and pretty.. cause when you don't feel rewarded, you don't actually feel the vigor of pursuit, of fighting when every of your willpower has been used up..

A kid I am counselling is a truly amazing kid who is enthused by the same factors kids get excited about. ofcourse she's intelligent and speaks english better than kids her age does but she has been bullied since primary school up til now because of reasons she and the bulliers don't even know of. her face? her accent? because she's mixed? because she's straight? what??? seriously.

no, seriously.

I know sometimes we don't have the answers to things too infuriating for the current us to understand, but really, it's not fair that some, that some just gets it easier than others do, especially when the suffering is often among those easy getters.

yeah everybody is suffering in their own way for pete's sake now, they're just worried that they haven't watched the latest episode of gossip girl...

So every trigger I could think of should have motivated me to finish writing, but I was as emotionless as a grave digger and it was as if I've been running on a treadmill when I could've left that fucking place and run everywhere else. And in the last hours of 31st december, have I not seen Allende's face, her eyes an image of a bigger vision of tomorrow with her look of clemency and assertion, I could have stopped and concluded that writing was not my thing in the end.

And maybe I am not the best, or in the x spot of the writer I want to be (her, ofcourse) but I can always learn. It might not be my time now, but in youth should we continue to dream but in age, should we not stop reaching and work for them. Sometimes writing seemed to be the worse rewarding job/hobby ever but a good friend just reminded myself why I loved it in the first place.

With this, I shall declare hath as my last post in this blog and will be migrating.

Please do visit

theshadowofawallflower.wordpress.com!

Have a great year ahead!

I am telling you that we are all in the gutter tgth.

And that everybody is gonna be alone in the end, we are all gonna be alone in the end, but it is gonna be alright because we all gonna be alone together.

Yes everybody is gonna be together alone.

Its been sitting there with a post or two for a few weeks and no one have read it.

The reason why it is so placid and un-visited likka well adorn grave of a little unknown stranger is because I'm scared. God knows why.

I still do not know whether Imma publish my short stories there but imma keep it open as a creative site, less demented and depressing hahahahaha defs.

I know I might seem subdued and retrenched, but nothing like that.

Actually maybe just a little. I had fell off a balance to the scale where my dire working system subsequently shut down on me when I needed my emotional intelligence the most.

So what happens after that are probably a display of an infant Nafisah, losing virtue in silence.

Anyway, I just realized that I am solely on a mission to feed my kittens til they're a ball of fur and a containment of fresh fat deposits. Tried to talk them into being lazy and all the benefits, but since they refuse to let me finish, I have no other way. Besides, spoke to one the cats the other day and he said, being fed &fat (pun intended) is a happy life &should be achieved by all cats in the world. You gotta understand tho, my kittens, especially that they are twins, have a true blue talent of a gymnast when playing with one another, &sometimes we mistook them as monkeys in the assets of cats. Our imagination really runs wild, &I can actually picture that omg. At times I have actually wondered how they'd look like in human form, and that if it's conceivable, I might relate to them better than I can to any of my brothers.

I had great thrills the past few weeks, on some occasion; resurrected, but I die often so I come alive just as much too. Been needing to have an outlet so stay tune!

Aneeeways, blog's not dead! Writing is what I love &will do just that.

I'm prolly gonna move but I'll inform!!

Ciao for now! :)

My passion came to me by sea, no jetplane, no speed train, all settled in as an initial habit to reclaim th past, &to overcome terrors of my own. Thus, when I tore my diary apart under a powerless counteract of overwhelming memories, I was in a trance for 7 days &7 nights. Th rest of th days would remain cold if I hadn't dream of death, of a defenseless girl on a boat in th middle of th sea, staring into th whirlpool &screaming her lungs out to th sky, wishing there was a part of s myth that is true &that a mermaid would save her out of th blue. I didn't wanna tell my mum at first cause my views may come as a premonition &that would scare her out of her wits due to my relentless act of cancelling all my doctor's appointment. Well I told her if I was meant to die, I would &that sent her to a silent reverie & I heard her cry some nights when I lay awake. Th dawn was my favourite part of day &th air was like magic dust that feeds my hope &imagination. My hands come alive when I start drawing creatures of th cloud &peaceful monsters of protection. On lonely nights, I see th images of my grand parents &how I yearn to draw their portrait as statues of saints inside my head, but then i stopped & I start writing again. I wish they could see me as I found myself, under their guiding vision of a solitary girl who is under a pursuit of happiness.