The Enemy

Here we go again

When will it ever end?

You’re still broken

When will you ever learn?

When will you return

What you’ve stolen?

Happiness seems so far away

Whenever you’re around

You always put me on display

Then push me to the ground

Am I a joke to you,

Or am I just a fool?

No matter what I do

You treat me like a tool

You hide the truth so well

A master of deception

Those pretty little lies you tell

Distort my perception

But how could I blame you

For these things that you do

When the real enemy

Lives not in you

But rather, whispers tenderly in my ear

Of all the awful things I’ve done

And of all the things I fear

Constantly reminding me

Of that same old tragedy

That changed me completely

Drowning in my own self pity

Still, I find hope

Not in the world

In the One who lives within me


“Alone…” – Photography

Alone time…a time to get to know yourself, to get lost in a book, or notice the things you’ve never noticed before. Being alone can be a beautiful, fulfilling experience in that we learn to appreciate the simple things in our lives, yet, eventually, yearning for human contact once again, we are faced with a decision: to leave the comfort of our solitude, or to remain lonely. This thirst for human interaction can seem to be more of a curse than a blessing, yet it is what makes connecting with others seem all the more satisfying.

One should never feel ashamed of being alone, for it is in the moments that we are without the company of others that we begin to see the beauty in nature and are able to come to appreciate the simple fact that we are here living and breathing. One should also never feel ashamed of his loneliness, for it is loneliness that brings us together.





Love’s Dance – A Poem

All alone in the crowd

I get lost in the sound

Of our beating hearts


Drowning in the blue

I fix my eyes on you

And so the music starts


“Could this be love?” I wonder

With each gaze, my heart grows fonder


Too scared to take a chance

I watch you from the distance

Hoping and waiting for you


To take my hand

And join me in love’s dance


Fighting Our Obsessions

We all have a tendency to obsess over things. Whether it be celebrities, crushes, movies, or tv shows, there’s always that one thing that gets us fired up, even to the point where we lose sleep because it’s all we can think about. We like to think it’s a good thing, as for many of us, it’s what gets us through the day. But just how true is this? Do not we ourselves scoff at those who become too obsessed with our own personal affairs?

As a teenager, I had two obsessions: music and celebrities. I don’t think there was ever a place I’d go without my headphones on, and I can’t deny that certain celebrities (more specifically, musicians) had an undeniable charm that seemed to fill me with both envy and admiration. The great thing about this was that it was so get easy to lost in the glamorous, idyllic world of celebrities that I could easily forget my own worries. The more I indulged in these things, the happier I felt. Unfortunately, the high didn’t last forever, and eventually, I had to come back down to earth.

Once the high died down, it was quite tempting to try to find something that could replace my previous obsessions, and so I did. However, while I succeeded in my pursuit, I had met the same fate. After the high died down, I’d been left with nothing but great disinterest. Eventually, I had completely lost interest in the world and all the vain things it had to offer me.

Today, I see people all around who are just like I had been in the past; obsessing over things that do not really matter, but bring them happiness nonetheless. One consequence of me having to come back down to earth is having to trade that same happiness for a comforting indifference; comforting, as it reminds me that regardless of one’s fame, at the end of the day, we’re all human; none more worthy of praise than the other.

One lesson I have learned from my experience is that when we constantly obsess over the little things, we lose sight of what matters most. When we get lost in our obsessions, we, unknowingly, push our loved ones away, abandoning them in their time of need, sometimes even just for the sake of some tv show or video game. To this day, even I am guilty of prioritizing the things that don’t matter over the things that truly do. These little obsessions do much more harm than we realize, yet because of their prevalence, they can now only simply be considered a part of the human condition. Is there, however, a solution? Possibly the only way we can really fight our obsessions is by obsessing over the right things, such as improving one’s character, spreading love, and making a difference in one’s society.

Home – An Original Song


Well, I’ve had some lonely days and lonely nights

Been misunderstood, and tossed to the side

But when I look to the skies and pray

All my troubles seem so far away


Oh, I will bask in the glory of His love

Knowing that I’m never alone

‘Cause if I set my sights on things above

I know someday I’ll be home

Well I know I haven’t been the best

And surely I’ve been put to the test

But every morning that I wake

I know its been no mistake


Oh I will bask in the glory of God’s love

Knowing that I’m never alone

‘Cause if I set my sights on things above

I know someday I’ll be home


Oh, I can hear the angels

Giving God all the praise

Oh, He deserves all the praise


Oh, I will bask in the glory of His love

Knowing that I’m never alone

‘Cause if I set my sights on things above

I know someday I’ll be home

I’ll be home x8

Pseudo Seizures – My Story

A year had gone by already, and while I should have been thrilled to be returning to school, I was anything but. My discontentment came not only from having to face the fact that I’d be spending two more years in a high school setting, but that I’d be going to an all girls’ school.

The first day of school surprised me the most, not because I found it to be the complete disaster I thought it would be, but because it was much quiet, uneventful and drama free -much to my liking. I’d especially enjoyed it because for once, I’d taken the time to step outside my comfort zone and talk to some strangers. Whether I succeeded at making friends didn’t really matter at the time. The next day, however, things took a turn for the worst.

In devotion, the woman speaking had made an error. Most of the girls echoed her mockingly, and the judgmental attitude displayed by the girls really took the meaningfulness out of having devotion. If I had only been a little braver, I’d have rolled my eyes, but I knew within myself that I may just as well have been guilty of the same crime at some point in my life.

As the day went on, I found myself feeling more and more like an outcast, which was nothing new to me. It had always been much easier for me to talk to males as they’d usually approach me first. Females, however, seemed a bit more cliquey. But whether or not anyone spoke to me, I usually still felt like the odd one out. At this school, things were no different. Nonetheless, I had promised myself that I would not return to my old anxiety-ridden self. I would try to be normal.

Finally, the third day, something strange decided to happen, and as troubling as it had been, I was happy to have been able to escape the all the awkwardness  and discomfort of having to be in such an unfamiliar setting. It was my first pseudo seizure, but upon my first visit to the hospital, I was said to have been experienced an actual seizure – several, to be more precise.

Eventually, I was prescribed a drug called epilim chrono. Despite this, my condition only worsened. Although I had an appointment to see a neurologist the following week, my worried father decided to take me to see a neurosurgeon. Being in such a haste, and having temporarily lost my voice, I had little control over how I looked. My hair was unkempt, and I even attempted to comb it, but all my family would say is, “Don’t worry about it.” Even when I’d motioned to them that they should comb it, they simply focused on trying to get me to the hospital.

After hours of waiting, I finally got to see this doctor, who seemed tired from a long day of work. I was his last patient, so it was no surprise that when my parents tried to explain what happened, he became moody and dismissive. When he actually witnessed it himself, all he could say was, “This is not a seizure.” But as soon as my prednisone use was mentioned, everything started to go downhill.

He started to blame the pill for almost everything – my unkempt hair (which I had been so concerned about earlier), my supposed depression, and my supposed apathy. In his own opinion, I could very well speak. I was just simply doing this on purpose. The way he spoke, it was as if I wasn’t even in the room – as if I wasn’t even me.

That’s when I knew he thought I was faking it. In the hallway, he’d explained to my father that the prednisone was making me depressed. I remember him pointing outnmy demeanour as some sort of proof, when in fact, I was only saddened by his behaviour. In the end, he gave me a diagnoses of pseudo seizures (PNES). The day after, his words kept replaying in my mind, so much so that I felt I was going insane. I felt humiliated.

Truthfully, I despised taking prednisone. Much of what he said about the drug was accurate. It did cause me become depressed at times. But what it didn’t do was make me into the uncaring, unfeeling zombie he insinuated it did. I heard everything he said, and I was affected by all of it. To add, he even suggested that I didn’t even have arthritis, which was the reason I was taking the thing in the first place. By the time it was over, I hardly felt like I was human being anymore, let alone that I even mattered.

Now that a year has passed, I can only say that the past is the past. I understand now that there are many people who won’t understand me, some of whom will even think I am faking this. But the beauty of it all is learning to understand yourself and to somewhat acknowledge and accept the ignorance of others, particularly when it only seems it cannot be changed. My only regret is that if I could have spared myself the heartache, I would not have seen a neurosurgeon, but rather, someone more equipped to deal with the problem.

Yes, neurosurgeons should know a lot about the brain. But like most other doctors, what they really can’t seem to fully grasp yet is how powerful the mind is and how it affects the body. It really pains to know that if you are to approach these people who seem to know everything about health, your mental health will be completely disregarded. You really do leave feeling it’s all just in your head, yet there is nothing you can really do about it.

The good thing is, the power is in your hands. You can choose to deny your illness and remain baffled by your inability to function normally, or you can accept it and start working towards change. Even if you can’t convince anyone to believe you, you know within yourself what is true and what you feel.

Sometimes, it’s okay not to care. It’s okay not to be understood. All you need to do is try your best and continue working towards recovery.


Open – A Poem

I’ve opened the doors to my heart

And surely, it’s been no mistake

Left in full, not in part

For all the liars and crooks to take

Yet with the pain comes pleasure

So in this moment I delight

As if I’d found some treasure

In my bleeding heart’s plight

This newfound love; this thirst for life

How long will this things last?

All those years of strife

Seem but a thing of the past

For no pain that I feel can compare

To the love that I’ve found

A freedom in being; an absence of care

My feet above the ground

Solitary Night

In this world, everything seems so black and white

Those pretty colours, they only seem to come around at night

And even in my lowest lows, the beauty of the sight takes me high

To a place where no one knows and I never even have to try


‘Cause if solitude is good for one thing

It reminds me that I’m still alive

‘Cause I can dance or I can sing

And no one’s there to criticize


Yeah, I might be all alone

But I’ll keep dancing on my own

Until the day that I find

The one to mend the pieces

Of my broken mind