Trust Issues.

Lately I've been feeling very confused and puzzled when it comes to people and who they are and what they mean to me. I've seen so many versions of people I don't know which one to believe to be the real one. And in turn I've realized that I've separated myself into different versions too. When I meet someone I show them my happiest side. The fun, carefree, easygoing girl with no worries in the world. But I can't help it when they lodge themselves into my cracks and unravel the real me. I unintentionally show them glimpses of my true self and they reel me in. I think I'm being very smart not letting them in but they're already there lodged deep in my heart and I realize this fact too late. When they've already damaged me. Already broken the trust I've given them. Scarred me so bad that I flinch away from trusting the next person.

The Book Thief.

So in almost every one of my blog posts I mention my love for 'The Book Thief' by Markus Zusak. Finally, I'm gonna be talking about it.

I read 'The Book Thief' for the first time back in August of last year. I remember going home and I was traveling by train. If any of you have read this book you'll know that there's a very important train scene. 16 August. That was the date I finished it. I was in this cabin in the train with me in the middle bunk and my cousin above me. He kept knocking from his bunk trying to tell me something irrelevant while I was under my blanket crying my eyes out. I'd just finished the book.

It's not that this book has an amazing storyline or something. The genre's kind of historical fiction. Set during Hitler's time. World War ||. There are a billion books written about this time. How cruel the days were. How hard it was to just be. No, that's not why me along with millions of others love this book.


I love it because the narrative is amazing. Because the words touch your soul. Because it's written in such a unique way. It's written by Death. That enough was to make me love it. Death isn't a narrator we readers come across easily. Infact I'm sure many of us have never read a single book written by Death. I love it because it's beautiful and it makes you feel. Feeling is amazing. Every page. Every sentence. Every word makes you feel. And does it feel good. Before reading this book I didn't know that my heart was capable of feeling so much at the same time.


This book changed me. I'm a firm believer in the fact that books can change you. Every book teaches you something. This book taught me the most. To feel. To cherish. To never regret. And to love.


Whenever I recommend this book to someone, I don't tell them to read it. I tell them to experience it. It's a rollercoaster of emotions. And not the kiddie one. Definitely not that one. So here I am. Hoping someone reads this book because of me and goes through the same amazing journey that I did.
Experience it.

End Of The Chapter.

When someone leaves your life, due to whatever reason, they leave a hole behind. A vacant, empty space that no other can fill. It will throb and tremble as you try to move on. As you retreat into the space where everything reminds you of them. As you pull yourself out of the shell and realize that the world is still teeming with possibilities. One person leaving you does not stop the flow of people entering your life everyday. Give them a chance. Take control and make your future your own so you never get the chance to regret, to look back and say 'I wish I would've done that.' Learn from the past. Realize that this isn't the end. What you think to be the end is just a door opening into the future. And you are invited.

Random Chat.

I have recently realized that my writing, well most of it anyway, is sad and depressing. I intend to change that and write about rainbows and sunshine today. Hmm. Here we go.


Let's start with something that I'm grateful for : being able to write. There are some people who express themselves by their actions, some who choose to do it by their voice and others who use words. I, obviously, fall into the last category. Words are my reprieve when the days become too long and the feelings inside of me are about ready to burst. Then I turn to my pen, and the ink leaks out of them without me realizing it. I prefer to write longhand. It gives me more control and I feel like I am getting somewhere. Although it sure is a pain sometimes to transfer my stuff to the computer.


I'm not the kind of girl who always has her nose buried into her notebook, hand scribbling wildly almost tearing through the pages. But I do like to sometimes cut myself off from the world, curl up on my most comfortable couch and write (or read...it depends). Somedays I prefer my own company over others.


My words would probably tell you more about me than anything else. If I write something specially for someone, then that person better cherish it because I cared enough to write for them.


Let me just say that reading something written from the heart can give you a tiny glimpse into a person's soul.
More people need to realize this and maybe next time they see someone writing in a notebook or typing away at their computer, they won't judge.

Random Clicks - January.

Random Clicks of January. 

Amazing brownies I made from a new recipe I learned. ♡

Outfit of the day pic for when I went to a historical trip to this beautiful castle.♡

Bonfire night in the backyard with family on a chilly January night. We sang songs, shared stories. It was a great night.

Some random arm candy arrangement. Studded wrap and bracelets from Claire's. Watch from Marc by Marc Jacobs.

All pictures taken by me and posted on my Instagram.

Left Me Scarred.

Where do people go when you need them? Mostly intentionally but sometimes unintentionally as well. Why do I feel like no one cares at that moment when I want someone to prove me wrong? And then at my lowest, when I want to use words as friends and pages as best friends, my hands shake and my mind blanks, making me unable. Words fail me. I trusted them like I did my 'real friends' and they did the same. Abandoned me in my time of need. How do I put down these thoughts swirling around in my mind? How do I assemble this puzzle? I scattered the pieces. Now I don't know how to answer these questions. So many questions...

Lost Chances.

We get second chances from our loved ones. And thirds. And fourths. But there comes a time when you've used them all up. Then you reminisce. You regret. You hope for that one last try. Promising that you'll get it right this time. But when someone's fully given you up, there's no going back to what you had.

She truly feels.

She feels everything so strongly. Passionate I call her.

The hate. It makes her boil. Ready to unleash her anger, not caring of the consequences.

The pain. A crushing demon pushing her so hard into the ground that she wonders how she can even get up in the mornings.

The sadness. A small, faint ache in her that throbs for someone. Like a bruise. Harmless enough but hurting when poked.

And the love. It's like a joy to her. A big ball of happiness that makes her so happy that she feels full enough to burst.

Dedicated to a friend.

And his eyes said...

And his eyes said all that he couldn't dare to.

When you know someone so well, you can just tell how they are feeling. One look at their face and you know how their day went. When you are with someone for a long time, you learn to see a pattern, a way that they live, something that makes them who they are. Makes them the person you love. Not everyone in a relationship has such a bond. It is rare. Having someone who understands you, to me, is the greatest thing. What more could one want than to have their loved one to know them truly? Besides isn't that what everyone wishes? To be understood and not judged? I know I do.