Safe haven

I’ve been meaning to write this piece for a while, but at the same time postponing it indefinitely. Maybe I was fooling myself that, the longer it took me to write it, the less painful it would be in the end.

Choked

I want to write, but the words just won’t come out. As if there are so many of them that they got stuck at the very moment they wanted to get out – all at the same time.

A collection of summer thoughts

Nothing feels right lately.

One interpretation of obsessions

Many would disagree. They’d say, hey, girl, cheer up, there’s nothing to worry about. Cheer up, you’ve got this beautiful life and things are going to work out just fine in the end.

Missing the city life

Even though on better days I feel okay, let’s put it that way, it’s becoming daunting how much I miss the life that unexpectedly ended over two months ago. Just like Vincent Cassel’s character said in “Un moment d’egarement,” “for years, you build something with someone, to end up alone like an idiot. It’s sad.”

Life as an endless loop

My life feels as if it transformed into an endless loop, an eternal day which never ends and never starts, yet IS just there for no reason. It’s been 56 days since the day I came back home, but at the same time does not feel longer than a single weekend.

A guide to navigating the depths of the rabbit hole

On better days, such as today, it seems as if things are okay. The reflection in the mirror looks quite okay, acceptable. Pleasant, even. Doesn’t speak, just looks back, smiling mildly. With hair tucked into a sleek ponytail, smooth complexion, and eyes wide open, reminds of a cover page of a beauty magazine. And just stares back, cunningly.

When life becomes utterly meaningless

I’ve hit the lowest of the lowest I’ve ever felt, where I feel so bad about myself, about life, about future, about any prospect, so bad I can’t even write about it.

A confession: What makes me a horrible teacher pt.2

Although studying a foreign language was my first and only option when deciding on a university, teaching – wasn’t. So how did I end up being a teacher for almost a decade, why I now hate it, and what makes me a horrible one?

A confession: What makes me a horrible teacher pt.1

Although studying a foreign language was my first and only option when deciding on a university, teaching – wasn’t. So how did I end up being a teacher for almost a decade, why I now hate it, and what makes me a horrible one?