a hundred days and more…



it isn’t impossible, but it isn’t as easy either.

it takes more work than you think it would

and it’ll drain you more than you bear.


worth it.

it will all be worth the while in the end.

trust me, for i’ve been through it

from the start till the finish line, i’ve crossed it.



probably the biggest enemy when you’re recovering.

the haunting voice and image of the whirlpool

that would suck you right back into your element of hurt and despair.


stay strong.

don’t give in, don’t give up.

trust yourself, more than the person you trust most

because you are the only one strong enough to pull yourself through your mess.



the reward of a long battle.

the fight within, when won, brings more triumph

than any other that you could ever experience in this world.



this post is dedicated to all those who suffer from the internal battles that you have to fight with every single day. you are stronger than you think you are. you can win this. even if you relapse, or go back to your old habits, never lose hope because one day, you will win the war within. always love yourself – bleeding wounds, scars and all. you are beautiful in every way and you deserve all the love there is so don’t let anyone dictate it otherwise. and when you walk down that road to recovery, trust in your decision and that you have made a choice that would be worth it.

trust me, i’ve been there. i’ve been with people who thought loving me was impossible just because i had scars on my wrist. but i’ve also been with friends who constantly support and cheer me on towards recovery. i’ve heard of all the things people could say…but even they do not realise that they have to walk down their own roads of recovery. i made my choice to not let my battles overpower me, to not let my mind be clouded with thoughts that only serve to harm me endlessly. and it’s been the reason why i’m still here now. because my choice made me stronger than i was.

each and every one of us is strong in our own ways, even with a weak heart and all. you can, and you will, win this war.

love yourself xx



[P.S: it’s been 100 days/++ of being ‘clean’ for me without any relapses, hence the title (:]


how, why?


i should be studying

or brushing up on my report.

keyword: should.

but here i am writing away about you.

it’s only the beginning of 2017, how dare you drain out on me so soon?

how dare you let me walk into a new year thinking that i had everything i ever needed with me?

how could you make me believe and trust in the fact that all that is dragging me down has been left behind in my past?

how could you give me so much hope and suddenly decide that i was undeserving and you slowly take it all away from me, again, how could you?


where do i go in such a place where misery sits in every edge and corner, every nook and cranny? do you actually expect me to survive here all alone?

why do you have to do this to me?

tell me why, life, tell me.




hurricane at bay.


~ it’s literally the perfect weather to be writing about her as her mind wanders into a state of self-reflecting, and hopefully not any self-loathing for today ~

she was bright, bubbly, jovial, positive…all things nice that her world could have ever been. her drive was strong, her need to do good was there and she felt amazing most of the time.

but one day she turned fourteen, and her emotional turmoil all began. sometimes she was sour, maybe even bitter…and other times, she was just fine.

but most of the time, she was misunderstood.

so she went from speaking her mind about everything, to hushing down her opinions for anything. she learnt that sometimes in this world, there was just no place to feel at all.

and sadly, she was perfectly okay with that, even though deep down it hurt her so bad.

when she was fifteen, loneliness became her best friend. being alone was something she was accustomed to, something she’s been living with for a while now.

she never expected much…in fact, she expected nothing at all. though her heart yearned for a companion that would make her stop drawing pretty red lines on herself. a companion that could understand her through and through.

few months into fifteen and someone came along. she thought he was it, the one, the one she needed and she gave him her all.

but boy, was she so very very very wrong. he wanted to fix her like a broken toy, yet he didn’t bother to know her foundations at all. but with him she saw the light of day occasionally…with him, she felt happiness, though not eternally.

then came the year she was turning sixteen and her only wish was for the one to stay true. but as we all know, every wish is a dream, and hers was a dream untrue.

he left. or maybe she left. but she was driven to the edge of leaving. she couldn’t take the pretense, and all the pain that came with acting like someone she wasn’t. he couldn’t understand her. she wasn’t enough for him. never enough, at all.

an awkward seventeen…stuck between waiting and forgetting. she couldn’t decide if she wanted to let go…or hold on to the diminishing hope.

he didn’t bother so neither did her. now she seeks closure and alone she shall find it for her. she basks in solitude, treats personal space with plenty of gratitude. but in the end, her loneliness still screams, consuming her it seems.

now she awaits eighteen, with hope and dreams.

but everyone doesn’t seem to fit, doesn’t seem to make her beam. as in her eyes, love was for soft rains, but she was one hell of a hurricane.

a storm undeserving of any love.