Losing someone is the hardest thing someone can go through. Even if we know they are long gone, their memories always stay with us and the hole they leave behind is impossible to fill. I recently lost my grandmother and I dealt with it the only way I knew, by writing. I wrote a letter to death, with all my complaints, deep sadness and a hope that she is in a better place.
Searching for a pattern, seeing a broken heart in new love, Why do we let old hurt ruin present happiness. A letter from a girl who found love again, and is still haunted by her last great love. She is looking for hope that perhaps this time she will not run from her happiness.
You write what you like to. You write, taking inspiration from all around you. You write because it’s your hobby. You write to make yourself useful. You write to express who you are, what you are, and how you are. You dream and pen down your fantasies. Your writing does not become yours. You become what your writing is. But what if it all ends? What if you are not able to write again? What if your inspirations turn a blind eye on you? What if you are not able to be you?
A person living with extreme depression often loses the ability to imagine a happy future or remember a happy past. Every day is a constant struggle, and he or she may see self-harm and suicide as the only option out. People with depression are often not able to weigh their options properly. If you have any such thoughts please seek help. Here is a poem written from the view of a person experiencing suicidal tendencies.
Dreaming big is as easy as dreaming small. We can only fulfill our dreams if we are ready to give it “whatever it takes”. Life always offers you a choice to go down the easy path, which is pretty alluring. But if you are determined and passionate enough, and ready to turn your wounds into rewards, you choose the right path over the wrong one. Hence, if you are daring enough, success is all yours.
What makes a person decide not to fight anymore? Is it suicide or murder when he finally gives up? So when society loads the gun and hands it to her, can we really blame her for pulling the trigger? For everyone who feels lost, and everyone who doesn’t understand, i hope the next time someone screams for help, we wont scream wolf.