Nothing Box

Blogging Rules

I had this conversation with friends Re: MESH LEYD.

Friend 1 to Friend 2: Beh, check out her blog. She posts a lot of articles about heart breaks. They are worth the read.

Friend 2 to me: Really? Okay, I’ll check it out some time.

They are both nice and very supportive and I’m thankful for that. But I can’t get not to linger on my friend’s observation. That I post a lot of heart break stories. This is not a big deal but I just need to clear my name on this. And also add something about MY blogging rules.

For the record, I did not say that I do not agree with my friend because I really do post a lot of heart break articles. Guilty. Continue,

When I’m writing, Aw! typing, I would always want to finish it in one sitting. (Explanation for grammar and typo logical errors. Is it a disease if you can’t proofread the things that you yourself wrote (typed)?) (LOL. I need training.)

But to tell you, the things that you hate, the things that pisses you, the things that hurt you, the things that broke the hell out of you, those where the things that increases you writing (typing) rate. Amarite?

And that’s it. Simple explanation why you think I wrote (type) those things.

But I get to question myself sometimes though. Am I really a melancholic, masochistic, sad, whatever I think I am?

The answer to that question is found in another question. That is, Am I?

(Haha. That was lame. That is just me being crazy because we are getting too serious here.)

To be honest, I find satisfaction in writing (typing) those articles. I can always easily find those deep, excruciating, you-need-to-read-twice sentences. Modesty aside.

Would you agree if I say that hurting melodramatic paragraphs are more catchy than the loving beholden ones? Maybe this doesn’t apply to you but for me, it does. Really.

Masochist. Affirmative.

Lastly, I somewhat got taken aback to writing (typing) all the good stuff because the mood would always be too ecstatic, too exaggerated, too MUCH. I can’t seem to control the TOO but I will get there, you’ll see.

Anyways, that’s just it. It was just a need to explain myself about the things that I WRITE. Not for you but for me.

This article will serve as a reminder to myself that “these are the things that I write and it’s okay to write these kind of stuff.”

Who cares anyway?

No one could oblige me to follow the blogging rules. “Have a niche”, “provide useful content”, “write happiness”, “write all the good stuff”, “write what people want to read”, yada, yada, yada. This is my anarchic piece of the internet. I will continue to write whatever I feel like even if it’s not particularly useful or of interest to anyone. Ha!


Feeling meh. Bye, Felicia.

PS. This is an example of i-tell-you-the-problem-but-i-already-know-the-solution scenario.

PPS. The Nothing Box, ladies and gents.

Nothing Box

Nothing. Whatever.

During melt downs, sometimes, I type a long post on Facebook and eventually not hitting the Post button and deleting all of it because of who I am as a person. Ha.

But this time, I was able to save it because typing effort counts. Whatever.


This is not a self-appreciation nor a self shaming post but if you decide to give a pak ganern, read until the end.

I am not the best. I am not perfect. I’m too flawed. I am bad. I am tactless on the things I say and on the actions I do. I hurt people. I take them for granted. I am a hermit. My inside walls are black and I have no furniture. I often chant in candle light while rocking back and forth on the floor. I classified myself too far from the people whom I thought were bad for me that eventually I became one of them, on my own, by myself.

You see, I may not be the person some of you have pictured and assumed me to be. My Instagram posts, Twitter retweets, Facebook’s display picture likes, follower counts and merits doesn’t give an exclamatory point to my whole existence. LOL, I was exaggerating on the previous sentence. But HEY! I am a whole lot more. We all are.

I got fireworks within me. Better yet, I got riots within me. I got this whole sharp horns and fangs in me. I have done things that I am not proud of. And I have a mile list of insecurities. I get pissed for no apparent reason. I say No to things and eventually regret everything after uttering N and O. I cry myself to sleep for troubles that are not worthy to be troubled for. I ask myself ‘Why do these things happen to me?’ when in fact those were just the product of the decisions I selfishly took before. I am a mess. A total mess.

My personality is a jungle that if you decide to set a foot on my life and when you can’t handle the rain in me, you’ll get sick and you’d be lost. I am made of body cells and not with porcelain. I am made with cracks and I have mistakes. I have melancholy at the end of every smirk. I am my own kind of havoc. And I am not ashamed of that.

I am a work in progress and I am still learning my way and trying and fighting and keeping my balls in tact. I am learning.

So, to you, reader, I know it’s been hard for you to keep up but you did, and you still is. Thank you. Thank you for walking through thunderstorms and breathing fire with me. Thank you for holding on and for nailing a hard job of staying in my life. Thank you. I appreciate you.

PS. If you happen to reach here, Thank you so much for giving a pak ganern.



Nothing Box


“Expect the unexpected” is a cliché more deeply entrenched than “known unknowns” and “unknown unknowns”. Like…………………………………………………….. don’t worry I don’t understand either. Anyways, I hope everything is doing well with you. Me? I have been very … Okay, so I’m sorta freaking out because I wore a lipstick the other day. A Dark. Red. Heck… Continue reading Ugh

Nothing Box

Fine Line Between GAPPA and BAMF

Have you ever met people who have been pretty convinced that they don’t need saving and that they have built a wall so high to guard themselves to the point of committing to a give and take relationship scares the hell out of them?

It’s like having the slightest thought of being tied up makes them choke already.

The serious thing is, they can’t even share themselves to you, even if they want to. So, they’re GAPPA and BAMF. Good At Pushing People Away. Bad At Making Friends.

Conclusion. Tendency of dying alone is above kidding.

Circumstances and Life’s mess happen to mold them what they are now. And you can’t blame them. You also can’t just compel them to let you in right away, it’s not that they don’t want to, they are also trying.

– – – – –

I was lost there. Gush. Gotta get my balls straight now.