Hey there, fighter

it will get brighter.

Take a breath, a little deeper

and bring your faith a little higher.

Remember, you are a leader

not a follower..

Most times your sky may be darker

and sometimes it might be a little lighter

I can't promise you it will get better

but I promise you it will someday be over...

And again, Father Almighty of heaven and earth..

have mercy on us..on me

father...please have mercy on me...

I am at the very edge of my last hope..

Re starting

I'm re-starting on my novel.
Its been 4 long years since I've lost my pen for it,
but as time keeps going..
I keep thinking that, this novel- me pouring my heart out on a paper is the only HOPE I've got..


xoxo

This is Jane.

It feels like from the moment of my birth
I've lived with pain at the center of my life.
The numbness I felt in the coarse of my occasional trips to the mirror- and the countless nights I've held myself to sleep.
It felt as the Aesthesia was finally letting loose- I began to feel the burn in my chest and the tangled thorns on my temples.
I thought I might have get used to it because It was something I needed to live with forever.


It was 12 AM. I walked through the dark streets to the cafe': where I always ran off to when I felt I needed some lonely company. I felt I was following my own shadows.
The walk was long- It was cold, but really long. It was proof that the aesthesia was wearing off.


I ordered a free, tall glass of sugarless- ice coffee-from the 13th coupon I've collected this month. I'd spent most of my time here, after work- and until pass midnight.
I took a seat to the furthest from the music speakers- but they were loud enough to break my peace in my own earphones.


I thought about the night I broke down at work- The night where my friend, who was more like an younger sister to me; held me in her arms, despiting the customers that continued to walk in that night.. I felt the need of that as I sat alone, staring at the dim-hidden-moonlightish- yellow that was lit in the ceilings. 


I took a deep breath a held a cigarette between my lips. Took out my lighter and lit it on.
I felt that I've sacrifice enough. Everything I ever needed, everything I ever wanted..As I grew up, my mother taught me to never be greedy and always learn to give others regardless, what they have and don't. 
13 years later- I turned 18, and today, my pockets were empty and I owned nothing.
I was never greedy, because I had everything I needed to survive with at that time. I was taught to always give thanks- and I believe I have, but what I didn't have was, enough.


I took a dry sip through the straw, moisturising my throat, feeling every raw trails down my neck and into my stomach like an easy waterfall. I took another sip and buried my cigarette in the ash tray. 


This loneliness was familiar-
as if the 8 year old me came alive again. 
Black hair that covered her small jaws, and her pale skin that was white as a salt desert; If you looked into her small black eyes- everyone could tell this girl was lost under that fake smile, and was desperate for a hug,
someone to hold her in their arms and wipe the weak tears off the edge of her eyes.
Someone that was qualified to give her something and something more than a friend- Something she was missing,
Not God,
not neighbors,
but family.