Articles, essays, poems, short stories and tips on writing

Life is a joy. It makes our spirit grow and we shine our brightest colors, we fill our lives with music and then we fall in love and we try to make it all work, we try with all our might, we keep a smile on our faces and welcome all the bounties that sometimes life offers us.  But life also hurts, and when it does  we crumble down and then we just pick our pieces and put ourselves back together again. We are just broken pieces glued together walking here and there and yet, we manage to smile. We say hello and answer that we are ok, we just walk and continue moving on from everyday battles. Neverending battles. Is that we have left? Life is a gift, but I just wish I wasn't given it. Selfishness and cowardice perhaps come into play, but what can we say when those tears and heartaches seem not to go away? Again, we pick up whatever is left and somehow move on, we rebel against it all trying not to show our scars as we weather the storm, we grow, we move on. Life is beautiful. It is a

You once said that we are entangled to death since the moment we are born, that we are chained to this earthly prison and that there is nothing we can possibly do about it, that all joy sinks countless times and that lovers will always mourn their dead love swallowed by neverending grief. It seems somehow that sadness in all its complexity lingers within, it extends it branches all over without distinction, with no regrets for who the victim is. Some branches seem to be so rooted that it makes the heart break, it makes it bleed tears to the point that you can barely function. Yes, I do still remember that evening when you said that and I noticed your face sinking, your spirit broken. However, you wouldn't divulge the reason of your torment. Your beautiful darkened eyes were bloodshot and you observed me, intently, your eyebrows would frown at times and your stare would grow deeper as if trying to snatch my soul. You stood close to me, I could feel your cold breath, I could feel you

When is "enough" enough? Where do you draw the line, set a limit, or establish a boundary to restrain the chaos of emotions and the mundanity of daily life? One day you wake up, and everything around you feels unfamiliar, as if you don't belong there. You know you're lying in a bed, in a room, yet something deep within you senses that this place, this moment, doesn't belong to you. You start wondering why, but the answers elude you. Frustration kicks in, gnawing at you like a rabid dog, making you question everything, especially yourself. Are you to blame for letting your emotions infiltrate every corner of your heart and mind? When your feelings and passions run wild like horses, how do you rein them in and bring them under control? Does anyone know how to do that effectively? Certainly, there are situations where such an endeavor is possible, but what about the others? Those where passions turn into a tornado, making reality a horrible battle field and pushing y

Should I go back to that embrace and coldness that once pervaded me, engulfing the corners of my mind and of my broken heart?  I miss that imprisoning embrace of yours, though I dread your encounter  for I might fall in love with you again.  Yes, I might fall in love with our tears which flowed in torrents leaving me drained with bits of my heart burnt, broken and scattered as I lied in the bed of your torment. I left you despite your sadness, despite your loyalty of standing next to me in my darkest hours, despite of everything, for your thorns cut me so deep I could barely breathe, yet still I loved you, I still longed for you, to be with me, both of us, surrounded in our own darkness.  My moon wails, scattering the rain on me as I whisper your name... and you came, you kissed my tears and squeezed my heart as you sang your melancholy on me making reality and pain real for the suffering of the heart is more permanent and always present.  I miss you, I miss your darkness, I miss our m