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

When writing a narrative, I basically rely on metaphors, "show, not tell", as well as imagery, mainly because it is important to rely on the feelings and perceptions of the character and bring them to life. In the following narrative, you may find some examples (further explained at the end of the text). "She would at least question herself and her own existence, and it would not matter to what resolution she might come to: she would never be satisfied with a mere notion of existing which most of the times translated into pleasing others, and wearing a mask to the theater of life. No. She deserved more than that precarious notion which she thought, felt like an insult. However, what else was there than to the pleasures of the flesh, which she had no regrets of, but most importantly those of the soul, the feelings, experiences, and notions that give the soul more substance and makes it even stronger, and what about the nutrients for her knowledge of her brains, the things...

Taking the fifty-minute-long ride metro, just to walk three more minutes out and then waiting for other twelve minutes for the bus home to arrive can be of course exhausting at times. Don't get me wrong or judge me just yet, the thing is that I have had thought that living in a large city slowly takes your joy away, as if it was a vampire trying to suck out the life of its victim. Perhaps I am overdoing it or overthinking it, or I might even be at fault for letting myself be an easy target for the city to slowly consume me from within. In my case, I believe that it is hard to point my finger at the "right" culprit...I guess it is a combination of factors and experiences that slowly accumulate in the process of living my life, or trying my best to live it and, the final result seems to be just plain exhaustion.  One of those evenings, the bus came in and I sat down by the window. Some seconds later, an old lady sat next to me. She was just another passenger like many other...

  FREEDOM There comes the time again. With its tight grip around the neck reminding you that the clock is ticking, and that monotony is wearing you away. Everyday seems endless and ultimately: aimless. Getting up everyday almost at the same usual time, have your regular breakfast and almost robotically, you carry on with the rest of your day just to repeat it over an dover again, day after day. What seems to be ordinary, slowly wastes you away, gets you away from your essence, the nature of your true self. As he was getting things ready for breakfast, these and many more thoughts cascaded in his mind, powerfully and in torrents, to the point that he began to feel helpless and rather annoyed. While looking away thoughtfully at the view from his kitchen window, the frying pan with a couple of eggs in it, let him know that if he didn’t remove them from the pan, they would get awfully burnt. And it was in that moment, like a flash of thoughts, that he sprang up from the chair, pu...

  How long does it take to forget? I wish I knew the answer to this one, I wish I had more than just a handful of broken answers that most of the time I must put together to make sense and yet, I end up with more questions than before. I wish it was easier to forget names and places so that even a fleeting remembrance won’t hurt so much, but to no avail I try and try, just to find myself where I started. Should I have to stick to the saying: “time cures everything”? I am not sure that’d work, for the memory is still there. It’s like being tied up and not being able to escape. I am not talking about an unpleasant memory, but just some, which are painful to remember because the one I should be sharing those memories with is no longer by my side and it is hard to come to terms with that idea, to make a logical sense of it. Doesn’t mater how much I try. They always come back: a lovely smile, waiting for the bus to go back home, or just simply a good night kiss before going to bed...

Have you ever felt that inner peace while being in the eye of the storm? It's kinda weird, isn't it?  I mean, sometimes I wonder why I feel so calm even though I am up to the neck with tons of things going on in my life and yet still I couldn't figure out the answer. But I guess it has to do with something stronger than me, than my inner will. Of course, I am not consciously ruling out my own will power, although I feel there's something more than just that. I'd never been a traditional believer, but I've always known that God somehow, someway, has been a part of my life ever since I can remember. I guess it basically comes down to the influence of my relatives and close friends. I even remember, just as I am typing these lines, a time when my dearest aunt woke me up really early on Christmas Day or so, in order to attend mass at the local church which was just a couple of blocks away from my grandmother's home. I remember there was some singing and the that...

  NO MORE I have forgotten so many things, Just a bunch of broken memories is all I have as I try hard to collect them, And they run through my fingers like water, as if escaping. Recue me, I implored, though the noose gets tighter and tighter without a hope. I look at my reflection in a broken mirror, And that reflection waves goodbye while my bloodshot eyes cry, Pushing me down into despair. From the past I try to collect my old self, this one being already broken by pain, And I stare at the stars though I cannot reach them, So I tighten the noose around, I failed to belong, and my home is long gone. Watch me as I slowly fall with broken wings, I cannot fly anymore, The castle crumbles down alongside with all I had, The steps adorned with flowers and glasses of wine are no more. Watch me as I cease, as I come to an existence halt and all around fades away.