There is this condition i have…
Whenever i hear church bells ring,
Or when the keyboard is set on church tune
And i see mouths quiver in prayer
Whilst the minister repeats words I’ve heard a million times all my life
I yawn.
Perhaps mundane familiarity or from plain boredom
I always yawn.
An old lady slipped and fell on her face
Only this once did i feel different
I finally laughed.



I feel,i feel,i feel
So much for you its so surreal
And i feel,i feel,i feel
That we just can’t be real
So do i question the path my heart takes?
Or i can be proud I’ve never faked
A love so free,so untamed
And my love for another you couldn’t take?
I crave,i crave,i crave
Just one more text from you once again

We shouldn’t have said all we said
But i truly couldn’t vibe with a flame
That sought to consume all the love I’ve built.
If I’d been given the option,
I’d take all the love i can grab
Tear up the possessive edges,smoothen the chemistry,please
We live to love and let go and love to live and let go

Hi. I’m Unemployed!🙋

Hi. I’m Unemployed!🙋

Hi,I’m Ellen. Born in a middle class but now poor family so at school i was taught how to be an employee.

The art of sketching a tight notch impressive curriculum vitae has stuck to the tips of my fingers. As such,any attempt to illustrate my abilities or interests turns into a diarrhoeal rant and/ plea about how I’d make a good employee for an available or unavailable job opening.

In my head i equate job searching with begging for money and food. Which is actually pretty accurate if you consider the thought.

Difference is you’re skilled and you have decent clothes on.(In most cases…i think)
I have 3 degrees and in my opinion i should be the quickest individual to gain employment. Universities in my country mostly give out one. 3 is both a blessing and a dire curse. An exact year after my graduation, im still unemployed and have relocated to the rural areas. I am without WiFi,a tarred road and my allergies have worsened,but oh well.

I shouldn’t be one to complain too often because I believe I have it better than most of my peers. Most of my them are either still battling college,raising families or happily employed. I believe in balance,we can’t all have it bad.

Most of this blog post is honestly a silent rant on my unemployment woes and at this stage I’m slowly forgetting why I thought these sentiments mattered. I do know that it would be somehow satisfying to read this in a few months when I’m hopefully employed,considering moving out and in a much stable relationship. Because that’s what human beings do,right? H.O.P.E

Worries of passing time terrify me. I want to be 25 years old and gathering assets by the dozen as the months go by. I’m 22 now. It’s a few years that I can’t spare and I’m in the worst country to have progressive dreams. Or am I?

Ellen’s Baking Therapy

Ellen’s Baking Therapy

“I’m going to bake.

Food that’s nasty

Food that talks

Food that walks

And kills all dogs.”

So I figured that I’d make food that reflects exactly how I feel. It had to bleed on my behalf. This is a healthier way to “bleed” since I don’t encourage self harm. I haven’t been the happiest.

With bouts of on and off depression I’ve had to turn to different activities to distract myself. Now that I think about it, this is how I’ve ended up a dilettante. My seasonal interests in various fields has gained me friends,experience and the next seasons activity.

Today is a Sunday. I’m depressed. I can’t point at what has made me upset and this is how I recognise it. My friend tells me that I must remember that I own it and not the other way around. Breathing sessions after reading these words make me feel lighter but it’s not enough. I take a bowl,flour,sugar,icing sugar,cocoa powder,vegetable oil,a spatula,sprinkles and water. Ashley gave me a cake baking recipe a while ago. I search for it and use it as a guide. I’m not trying to concort a gut threatening poison.

My younger sister stands in a corner in the kitchen watching my every move. I can tell she senses my foul mood. I ignore her but occasionally offer a slight smile whenever I’m in her corner. I go back to scanning the recipe Ashley sent to me. Because of the faint ink on the recipe I actually have to squint my eyes to make the words out. I immediately notice that there isn’t enough flour to bake a cake. This increases my frustration. The thought of abandoning my only chance of a distraction upsets me. I stand leaning against the kitchen table with my back to the ingredients I had laid out on the table.

I spot a red food colorant and I feel myself light up. My muse is clearly aroused. I mix up all the ingredients with little water to match up the meagre amount of flour I did have. The colorant mixing up with the rest of the paste satisfies me immensely. The redness looks like relief. The sense in self harm begins to make sense. I decide to continue. My sister is now dangerously close to me,watching the red paste wide-eyed. At this point I am sure about what I’m creating. Muffins.

Not being a proper baker I ended up throwing stuff in especially at the point when I had to give the paste up to the oven. That’s me being clingy. That’s me not wanting to stop. Also me being a perfectionist. The wait after oven stage felt like ages. I had my earphones plugged in tightly to avoid unnecessary conversations with whoever would end up coming into the kitchen.

And today, all conversation was unnecessary. Whilst waiting I realised that I hadn’t had time to myself all week at all. With the house filled up and crowded I felt suffocated. Crowds make me feel uncomfortable plus I’m an introvert. I needed to recharge. My depression takes me places. The deepest place is always the same. I struggle with my Dad’s passing. Noone knows this. Noone notices this. I’m a careful person as much as I am protective. I do not wish for my sorrow to raise the sorrow in others.

Jhene Aiko says “Hell is not a place.Hell is not a certain evil,hell is other people and the lack of love”. I believe this so much. I should also add that hell is also the lack of other people. The lack of my father. I haven’t written about him much since he left. I glance outside the kitchen window and spot his car. It’s the one object that I can almost feel his presence. I’m close to tears. I hold back and clear my throat. My sister is in the room,I can’t break down. Not now. Not with her in the room.

My phone lights up and I move closer to it. It’s Mom. The message reads :”I just texted to check on you,I feel your anxiety from here,please be okay. Love you so much!”

Sometimes I feel like she’s psychic. Like we have some sort of surreal connection. She’s my mother,my keeper. The dawning and awareness of death and loss has me afraid to love completely. I’m almost always on the guard against the pain of loving and losing. But then I guess that’s our purpose on earth: “to love and let go”- continuously on repeat. I smell sweetness in the air. I should probably check my little red creations now. I feel excited all of a sudden. Like I’ve secretly made a little surprise for myself that I’ll now reveal- to myself. I chuckle and my sister joins me as I open the oven. I had expectations,they were not quite met but that’s okay. No. That can’t be right. I’ll rephrase that. I had no expectations. This was made randomly so I’m happy with the outcome. I created maroon muffins that I have decided to name “Elfins” after myself. I am pleased.

This little project helped me to get through my potion for the day. I don’t promise that it’ll work for everybody. Especially if you have no flour at all. My whole point was to show that self harm can be substituted. You’re always free to find your own ways. Pain can be alleviated when we realise that we’re not going through any of it alone. None of us are immune to the pain of losing someone we love or something we cherish. I offer Elfins today. That’s as far as I’ve gone.

11th Hour.

11th Hour.

Exactly 11 hours ago,I was broken. I felt I had lost myself and love. Now that’s different. I’m still here, and so is love. For myself. If I lose my mental independence and inner peace what have I left to give out? I have made better friends since my transition. I have created more meaningful acquaintances both with others and with myself. If a love I love can’t love me lovingly, then I shall not give out love. That is the real dysfunction. A life without that other person isn’t a dysfunction. It’s a separation,it’s a breakup,it’s divorce but not dysfunction. I know this now. And I am set free. I also understand that who I’ve become isn’t any mistake. I’m shaped by my experiences, hurts and triumphs. If I refuse to acknowledge this,I refuse myself and my scars. This in no way makes me a slave of my past, it makes me understand the past and move forward. It’s this that gives me peace and if I’m lying to myself then so be it. I just need to mantain my inner peace.



I know it now. I feel it. I sense guilt,isolation, pain and depression. My body has already started failing. Ironic that a lot has actually “piled” up. It hurts a lot. Like my insides can’t live in me anymore. I also sense change. Both within me and around me. My mother bruises me sometimes. I’m aware she wills the best for me and wishes me well. Perhaps I am self destructive or a bridge in re-construction. But in all this I promise this: I will love me more. And I will not hurt me more. I will heal.



So today he decided it wouldn’t work out. We had a vocal brawl and ended our love. Love. Was that what it was? Was it the tears I saw in his eyes? Love? Or perhaps the tears that later jutted out of my own?Love? No. Love was what began our separation. His love for himself. His love for his family. For his mother. He said I wasn’t suitable. That she’d never take a liking to me. Because of that one disfunction I had acquired. My lack of enthusiasm for the men of the robe. These ones wore suits but oh well,it’s all the same. Love? Is that why she said she didn’t recognise me anymore? Because that enthusiasm had faded? Have I truly faded? I lost love today. I am still not quite sure what I gave gained.