My therapist is very weird.

My therapist is very weird.

I’ve always wondered what my therapist would be like if I ever went to one. I’ve also wondered what I would be like if I was a therapist. Well, I guess you could say this piece is a mixture of the two. It also has the cutest ending ever. I hope you like it. Comment and tell me if you did. Enjoy!


“So what is it like – being human and all?” My therapist asked.

“That’s a very weird question.” I answered.

“I’ll rephrase. What is it like – being you?”

“It’s crazy, honestly. But here you go -” and I told her. I told her about my favorite childhood memories like the hundred family long drives with songs and hot chocolate and how they the memories shaped me. “I don’t have coffee anymore,” I told her about my tenth birthday and how I spent it chasing my friends in a ‘catch-me-if-you-can’ game. “It was hilarious. We were in a shopping mall that had these gaming sections and furniture shops spread over three, maybe four floors. I was running, trying to catch my friends who were always on a different floor. I’d take the escalator for the first floor and they would giggle and take the escalator to the ground floor. And then I’d try to run down on an elevator going up to catch them faster and every time I did that, they would do the opposite. Those days,” I said and smiled.

“Do you still feel like you’re chasing things and are on the wrong side of the escalator, Afra?”

“God, no. Chill. So anyway,” and I continued my tale. Eventually, I reached the tough parts of my life. I told her about how my days seemed to be going nowhere and how the nights had promised to stay forever. I told her they were damn good at keeping their promises. I went on and on about weird things like how I was claustrophobic everywhere except in my own room and about Christmas parties that I wish I’d never attended so that I wouldn’t have met the guys I dated. “Everybody keeps telling me about the ways I can make things better but they’re all just shitty ideas. I’m headed nowhere. Me living like this is like a dog driving a car except that dogs don’t drive cars.”

“Well, you clearly have never seen my doggo.”

“You’re a weird therapist.”

“Look!”



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Two, happy poems.

Two, happy poems.

Well, it’s Christmas tomorrow. I had to write something that left you smiling. I hope you like this, and if you do, maybe comment a lot? Also, share a lot. Just takes a button. Also, tell me about your happiest memory. Anyway, enjoy! Merry Christmas and Happy holidays!


In a line of poets
that can break your hearts
and numb your skin,
of course you would prefer the one
that makes you feel happy.
Consider this your rebound poem.
Do you remember
what your happiest day was like?
For me,
it was probably the day I wrote poetry.
The first draft was awful
but it had something very important in it.
It had a lot of me.
When I made a friend read it,
I had the widest grin ever.
I wrote a letter to a stranger once
and had an envelope smile on my face
as every word I wrote
made him less of a stranger.
I love oceans.
They’re like puppies to me
wagging their tail-like waves
running to me as I walk closer to them.
That reminds me,
I love puppies.
I held my first pet in my arms like a newborn.
Maybe my smile will finish this poem for me.

Keep smiling,
okay?


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Mud paint and memories.

Mud paint and memories.

Beth was an artist. On some days, she would take half-filled whiskey bottles and paint her boyfriend’s face on it. The skin would be dark and the nose small, the lips chapped and cheeks flushed. She would color every inch except the small circles in the eyes. She would leave that to the sun and whiskey. It had to resemble his eyes, after all. On other days, she would draw little hearts on her cheeks and let his compliments fill it with color and life. Her favorite piece of art didn’t involve her boyfriend at all, though.

The favorite piece of art was a painting she’d made when she was fourteen. Her dog had just passed away and painting was the only way she could cope with the loss of someone she’d lived with all her life. Her dog, Husky, was a military dog when it was young. Beth’s father had brought him home when he had to (for lack of a better word and to make the dog sound more human) retire. Beth was born a month after Husky came home. They were always fascinated by each other. She had started drawing because of him. On a summer morning when she was just four, she was playing with paper when Husky came running into the house. He ran all over the room, including a paper, with muddy feet and that was her first painting. Paw marks.

When he passed away, she drew his picture. She made the background bright red, just the way he would like it and could almost see him wagging his tail as he went crazy because of the color. She colored everything except his body. For the body, she used the mud from where Husky was buried to give his body its natural color. She had it framed and it still hangs on top of her bed. I’ll leave you with a happy memory, though. 

Ever since Beth was born, she had never had food alone. Husky would always be there to have half of it. He ate everything – ice creams, pie, fruits, socks. Everything.


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My therapist talks too much.

My therapist talks too much.

I wanted to set a comical/happy tone and mood which is why I wrote ‘happy poems‘ and now this. Why did I want to do it? Tomorrow, this blog will be a year old and so, I have a few announcements. That’s why! Do drop by tomorrow at 12 pm (GMT). Enjoy this fictitious piece, meanwhile! It is one of my favorites.


“You’re poetic, you know?” I told my therapist, who was a forty-year-old single mother. Her husband had committed suicide thirty years ago and her PTSD is what drove her to help others get better.

“I do. I wanted to be a poet when I was eighteen,” she smiled. Continue reading My therapist talks too much.

A guide towards self love.

Comment down below more ways towards self love, and let the knowledge spread. Share this with your friends so that they can do it too. Enjoy!


Self love is being happy and alive without being drunk. And with the amount of liquor that flows in our veins today, it is pretty obvious that we barely remember what it is like to look into a mirror and not see a mess. Here are five (ever-green) ways  to fall in love with yourself again:

Get a dog

Or any pet. Waking up to the heavy breath of your dog on your face, sleeping with him curled up next to you, eating dinner with his eyes on your food, and taking walks on a sunny day will make you smile like nothing else. Playing fetch as he runs around like a madman will make you laugh so hard, you’ll forget all about hating yourself. How could you hate yourself when your puppy loves you so much?

Follow your dreams

Take a step towards it. If you love cooking, cook for yourself tonight instead of binge-eating on snacks while watching FRIENDS. Actually, do both. If you love painting, draw a small stick figure on your palm today. Don’t forget to draw his smile, cause I am sure he loves himself despite being skinny. Take the smallest or the biggest step you can, but make sure it is towards what you love. If your dream is to have a bucket list pencil-sliced in half, do it.

Help someone

The world has stressed on kindness for a long time now, and yet every body goes along their day like the watches on their hands. Help someone and see them smile. Your insides will light up with satisfaction and you will feel like you matter, because trust me, you do. Like the hand-crafted note from your crush, which mattered most to you among an ocean of gifts on your birthday, you still matter on a planet with over billions of people. You’re special. Make someone else feel this way too. Give them a reason for self love.

Take therapy

No, therapy isn’t only for people with very severe mental conditions. We are prone to mental and emotional issues as humans. We tend to take a lot of stress for things that don’t matter and care way too much for people we love. And that is not bad! Be a workaholic and a hopeless romantic. But if it gets too much, talk to someone. Not necessarily a professional therapist (because they charge you a lot sometimes), even a friend is fine. Therapy is letting all the stories built up inside of you come out to leave space for new ones.

Jump on a trampoline

This will always make you laugh, trust me on that. Look around the city and find a trampoline and then jump your way out of sadness. This might sound a bit far-fetched and it probably is, but it will make you laugh like a baby and that’ll be your first step towards self love.

Make yourself smile. This is the most important step that you could take towards self love. Make yourself smile and giggle every single day.


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