Do we really matter? (The price of life)

There is always this one thought in our mind that lingers and eventually comes forth. To some it might be a whisper which can be easily pushed away and to others it comes as a roaring thunder that never leaves our sight, a seed that grows rapidly, unchallenged it spreads to the darkest corners of our minds where it thrives. And to us, the few that are unable to ignore it and make it go away, it becomes our great companion in the darkest days that come, a friend that possess some of the most reasonable insults you will ever hear, a supposed ally that will aid you in getting rid of all hope that you yearn for, all the friends you wish to be with, as he will convince you love and family are just an unnecessary burden. And in that enveloped darkness is where our own humanity is tested.

The world doesn’t care

The month of September is suicide prevention month and especially this week is the suicide prevention week with the 10th of September being suicide prevention day. First of all I would like to say as with mental health awareness month, I am glad we devote more attention to mental health and the bag of problems it brings. But don’t let it be one month, one year, one day… Look to the people you love the most, to the person next to you, read the signs and be open and ready to help. Be patient, be caring and understanding. I remember a friend of mine who went throught tough time and looked for a solution by opening to one of our other friends. And he got an advice I despise the most. He said to him why would you even think about suicide, it’s selfish, think about your family. To an extent I agree, as someone who unfortunately went on that road twice (almost three times) it’s those we leave behind that still feel our pain after we are gone. But what most don’t understand and what my friend who said that didn’t get is why does no one feel our pain before? Does it take those drastic measures for others to take interest in our suffering? They would think we only seek attention but in reality we are lost, wanting nothing more then to find our way back, wanting nothing more then comfort and understanding. But unfortunately my friends, the world doesn’t care. Mostly… As it is easier to judge then to understand. But not all share that enthusiasm to judge without a thought, no…  There are us who have been through the hell of self doubt you are going through,  there are us who know how it feels standing at the bottom in that darkness not seeing a way out. And trust me there is a way out. So don’t be hesitant. Reach out. To me, to others… I know there are lines to phone and I won’t judge their work (even if I have heard some dubious stuff about how they operate) remember that even in your darkest moments, when the world seems bleak, there are still people you can turn to. But as it is with trust, easy it is given, harder it is proven. It can be hard to confide in someone, fearing their reaction might change the view their eyes hold over us. And yes it can be difficult to dump that burden we carry on some, trusting them even with the slight sight of it, in fear they would run or judge, as much as it pains me to admit, there are still good men roaming around, willing to help, to listen, not for their own selfish gains, but rather out of the goodness of their own hearts. Because that’s how we as humanity redeem ourselves, that’s how we fix our own species and this world, by putting a bit faith in our fellow human and repaying that faith when it is given to us.

I thought I could turn off my consciousness
But there was a price to pay

How hard is it to get out of that hole? Perhaps some of you are right now in it, perhaps you know some that are, but let me tell you something, it is a living hell that doesn’t end. As how can one escape it, the perfect prison designed by the only person who knows your deepest fears, darkest secrets that keep you embedded in that cold black chasm, as the worst prison we can find ourselves in are the ones we design. I can lie, say that even when you manage to pick up the broken pieces of your mind and soul, even if you somehow draw enough strength where there is none and that if you manage to spark the dark pyre of your heart with hope that was nonexistent that all will be well after, but sadly it is not the case. Even if you manage to do all those extraordinary feats and somehow pull yourself up, the fight won’t be over just yet. I am sorry my friend, but it will never be over. Forever there will be scars, invisible to the naked eye, hidden deep in your soul, that in any given moment you look down deep, you will find yourself again in a war with doubt and despair. But do not mistake this as an act of discouragement, no… As you should be proud. Not all had the strength or support to stand back again. We all lost friends and loved ones to that struggle. I would dare to say us standing out of the shadows that our mind casts is a privilege. An honor. Even if sometimes we want to give up, even if sometimes we will have doubts in every and all action we make, no matter how big or small it might be, I feel we owe to ourselves to think better. Of us. Of the world. Of others. That it can be better. That we deserve better. I feel like we deserve to hope. But not foolish one that had put is in that hole in the first place. I believe we owe to ourselves to think that even if we get up, try again and again that after all the fucking struggle, after all that pain, that all of that wasn’t for nothing. That after all, even we the broken creatures of the doubt, deserve to be happy.

You will relapse. Might bend the knee under the heavy burden, the untold pressure of not knowing does tomorrow bring something bad or not. You might fall, not wanting to get back up, think what’s the fucking point? And that is OK. At the end of the day, remember, we are all the same. Just human. It’s in our nature to fail. To try. To succeed. To be happy. So let’s be, just that… Only human. A flawed perfection.

At the end of the day, remember, we are all the same. Just human. It’s in our nature to fail. To try. To succeed. To be happy. So let’s be, just that… Only human. A flawed perfection.

Final words of encouragement

I will leave you with this. When someone reaches out, remember, they are showing trust, so repay it by listening, taking notice, by caring. We all struggle with life. And if we can make someone’s life a bit less dark, then perhaps our own will seem a bit more brighter. Most of us fear judgement, so don’t be hasty. As we all seek one thing. To be understood. So show love, not pity. Show care, not judgement. And perhaps we all as a species can look for a better tomorrow. And that’s what I wish to you my friends. May your tomorrow be a bit less bleak, a bit more brighter and may the only tears you shed be the one of happiness. Love you all you beautiful people,

Harry.

POW: Professionally wasting time

I know, I know. Even I am sick of it. I am here, then I go missing for a week, then hey here I am again. For the few people that read my stuff and follow me on twitter they must think I am half assing this, not taking it seriously or something, coming every few days or so even here and gracing everyone with my presence. But that’s not the case though. For the few of you who follow me, they know that my life and the reason of my hair going gray in my late 20s is this damn day job. But alas, 15 or so days are left and then I can take again a day off, which it will make, what? 3 whole months of day to day work, every damn day? Jesus… But sure, you can say that I had even an hour off and why didn’t I create, why I avoided twitter and the whole ordeal?
Not counting that I spent the few hours I had passing out of sheer exhaustion and editing the upcoming book, I just wasn’t in a good place. And for everyone who tried to do something be it writing or trying to find success in any part of life, you know how bad your performance can get if your head and heart ain’t in the right place. You want perfection, or whatever comes close to it. Be that as it may, I still have to say I feel guilty.

Professionally wasting time and half assing life


That would be my official title if anyone asked. A writer? Perhaps. Poet? Sometimes. But an idiot who jumps ahead without a second thought and who is a master in procrastination? Definitely! OK, with all things considered, having my life force sucked by my job and the scary week where everyone around me had Covid except me (get your vaccines don’t screw around) I got to say as far excuses go, I am solid. But, there is always a but, I feel guilty. Not many of you know the book that is coming out “The Lonesome Road” is my second book. First technically as I wrote it about 3 years ago, if you want to be specific, bit that’s semantics. I had written a book last year which I am in the same time proud of and disgusted by. Proud because I wrote every day for like 2-3 hours deep in the night. I worked the same job, not as intense I may add, but yet again every day I retained a certain dose of commitment of which I was proud. Sheer determination took over as I was adamant to finis this. But then again it brings a certain dose of pain, as the story by itself was good, actually great in my humble opinion, but filled with mistakes and putting it myself, dipping the toes in self publishing made me realise this was a big endeavour for me. Yet I made my peace with it, as it is failure that is the necessary part of growth. I took my lessons from it, as it was necessary to make those certain mistakes for me to learn, to grow. After that, I changed my view on life as well. Having a mental breakdown that same year helped to it. But it was a harsh lesson that was necessary, that no matter the mistakes we make in life, no matter how many or how big, with the will to change, it might get better. Now I am still waiting for those better days, but every single good thing that comes my way, no matter how small, I take it in appreciating it in full, knowing how rare of an occurance it is.

“…no matter how many or how big, with the will to change, it might get better.”

Be proud of your steps

Yes, I feel ashamed. Sometimes I am afraid I will go stagnant again, falling a victim to my depression, throwing all the progress I made as a person away and get back to staying in bed all day not feeling well as I make peace with my destiny. You think to fail is the biggest pain of life? Then you never have been laying down pressured by the darkness of your thoughts, wasting your life doing nothing or doing stupid things, watching those around you progressing to better parts of their life while you are being left behind, left only with your own thoughts that taunt you. It can get bad. But I feel a measure of a person is the ability to wish for a change.  No matter how many mistakes we make, if there is a will to change, to be better then the toxic and bad person we are, I think there is still hope. That’s why I feel ashamed now. I became a person that if he doesn’t use every usable second of the short day he has to create and write, to progress towards his goal, I am afraid I am going back. There is this saying. You gaze into the abyss long enough, the abyss gazes back. I have been to that dark place, I know what’s there. And I don’t want to go back. I have been there making mistake after mistake, thinking my life was worthless, so what’s a new mistake or two. I have watched my friends and family progress to better things in life and I wasn’t jealous. Why would I? How can I be when I knew I don’t deserve to be happy, to succeed in life. To all who had been there, you know well you fall so deep you hit the floor and face the question. Was it enough of that kind of life and will you get your shit together or do you give up and continue to fall. Trust me, after you see the bottom of that abyss, you find true fear of what can happen. I believe progress requires mistakes. But it can be hard. To be broken, not knowing how to ask for help, but desperately wanting some. My advice? No matter how scary and hard it looks to get up from that bottom and climb despite being down it for so long, trust me, it’s far more scarier what awaits you down if you stay. So believe you deserve better, that it can be better. And it will.

“No matter how scary and hard it looks to get up from that bottom and climb despite being down it for so long, trust me, it’s far more scarier what awaits you down if you stay. So believe you deserve better, that it can be better. And it will.”

Preaching again

Seems I can’t help it! Damn. I start talking about one thing and immediately it turns into a TED talk. Perhaps it’s the boring person in me, I don’t know what to say as my life is pretty dull. But I like to believe these insights and my experience could provide some comfort and assistance to some of you who are going through this, to let you know it gets better, even if right now things might seem bleak. You stayed in the dark for this long and it didn’t kill you, then trust me you have the courage to walk on into the light. I got to admit it feels good I found a brief moment to sit and write another POW. Process of writing was an idea for me not just to practice writing and open up, be more personal, but to share my experiences and to motivate others to share. I know August had been pretty silent from my end, but here’s hoping that will change in the upcoming weeks. My head is getting there, getting into that good place of strength and I can feel the spark igniting once again. So here’s to you all, to all of you who still seek your spark, your way out of the dark, may you find it, may you stay strong and resilient in your quest for a better tomorrow. To you my friends, wherever you may be, I wish you all the best. Stay strong and moving.

Much love,
Harry.

POW: Is fear the great motivator?

Hello, it’s me. I swear there is a meme opportunity hidden somewhere around here. Well, perhaps for an another time. Anyway, I am still pretty much alive, even if I feel far from it (really far from it) and I am trying my best to keep the site at least alive. I gave my best shot to keep at least this segment on a tight weekly schedule, but with work every damn day and the blasted heat I think I can be forgiven, at least a bit. But I promise you I am still hard at work on my writing stuff behind the scenes, even if I now occasionally pop by Twitter and say hi, I assure you the new book is being written and the old one edited. Let just say I had my best intentions and even a clean plan to make content weekly for the Word Den, but the limit of the human body kept me in place as it seems so easy to pass out every night when I come back. So at least I think I owe one POW even if I don’t have a recurring theme to talk about. Kinda planned POW to be constructed like that, think of it as an episode of the Simpsons, it starts with one event that somehow leads to a whole another one that becomes the theme of the episode. Jesus, I really must be done and dusted if I am starting to compare this to a cartoon. Well, be it that I am reaching the limit of the human body and the soreness of the muscles is slowly making its way to my brain or the lack of rest and sleep fuled my insanity even further and I am really beyond saving. But enough of rambling let’s do this!

Fear itself

I said perhaps now more then a dozen times I wanted to not just use this segment as an opportunity to connect, but to try and share, become more personal, not just as a writer but as a human being in general. So for this rare appearance on the site, I want to talk about fear. They say fear is the great motivator. Who the fuck even thought of that? Yea perhaps when you are trapped in a death binding situation where all is down to fight or flight, but how can fear be the great motivator if it is occurring in more then just a moment? What happens when it fills the entirety of our days, when it sleeps and wakes up, spending every waking hour next to our already near broken husks who really don’t need any more motivation to slow or completely shut down? Fear ain’t the great motivator it is the greatest set back in life that like a bully, you let it push you far enough, it shall never stop kicking you around. And lately it doesn’t let me stand up. I know it is the product of my mind, the depression followed now with constant anxiety where I fear even the sound of the passing car on the street, but combine it with work everyday which doesn’t just take a toll on you physically but mentally, you end up getting a jumpy depressed lad who is scared of his own shadow.

I can’t make excuses. I won’t. I am aware of my absence from the site and from twitter and Instagram and what not (follow me there, shameless plug), but I assign that level of absence on the crushing work schedule I have. Believe me when I say and I do not exaggerate, I come every night from a 10 hour shift just to pass out on the sofa, waking up just few hours away from my shift. But I reckon this unhealthy life style will last for maybe few weeks, till the end of the month tops. But faced with that kind of life I am living right now, barely eating one meal a day, combined with the anxiety and paranoia I feel, it makes things even harder. Concentration is gone, motivation withering and the only thing that I have left to fight it is to essentially forget about it. Forget that fear, just leave your mind blank. And that my friends is dangerous. Why? Simply because, if you manage somehow to leave your mind empty, not think about the things that break your mind and pull your soul down, sooner or later you are going to find yourself in a moment of peace, alone, where everything you managed to forget till then, that day comes crushing down on you. All of those bad emotions that you avoided hitting you simultaneously. And that leaves you down, without any hope of pulling yourself up. Fear is not the great motivator. Fear is the absence of hope that keeps us locked in a very dark corner of our mind. All we can do is push through it, in hope tomorrow will be better then yesterday.

The harder the life…

It says something about us writers. We need to be in a place of creativity, in a good feeling or even bad to suck that motivation to put those words down. I bet lot of you like me used those melancholic days as tool to write something that really needed to sound so bleak in the first place. But what happens when motivation is outclassed by other factors. Time, fear, anxiety, imposter syndrome and what not we face that prevents us to even write a single word? Motivation is the key in this line of work. I believe it is not being the best that will make you a great writer. It is purely hunger, wanting to do it, to do more, that divides the greats from the rest of us. Sheer and pure willpower is the key factor that is required to reach the upper level. Sometimes it is hard to keep that hunger. Other factors wave in, trying to persuade you to take it down a notch. And for the few months, especially after my work got too much to handle even for my writing and editing, I can’t stop thinking should I do it? Take a leap of faith, quit that job and pursue the thing I am passionate about? Don’t get me wrong. I have been working since I was 17. Worked quite some shitty jobs for even worse bosses, so I am no stranger to working like 14 hours shifts with no day off for months. But this, writing, is something I know I am good at, or at least that I have the ability to offer something to this community, to the readers,  something of value. I guess after you make so many mistakes in life, on a personal level and business, one really gets to know himself. But then again stands the question we all asks ourselves at some point. Is it worth it? Will my leap of faith be survived? Or shall I just go plummeting down in the ground?

Last few words of wisdom

I leave you with this. You know. Deep down in yourself you do know. Same as depression or anything that wavers heavy on your heart, you can talk to so many people, even professionals, but it’s you who knows the size of your strength to go through it. Same as this. Just, from my experience, nothing is worth doing quickly and over night. Be ready for that. Change won’t come tomorrow, it needs to be in the making for a while. So even if fear bothers you, even if life is uncertain, stop. Breathe. We came this far, right? Night will go down, the sun will rise and we will still be here. And tomorrow is a new opportunity to try again. Won’t say till next week, but hopefully so,

Harry.

POW: Life will sort itself out

What is it with the world and it’s undying compulsion to tell us what we are going to be? What are they to gain, those who shatter other peoples hope, dreams and aspirations? You are never going to amount for something,  you are  never going to be anything… Your amount won’t ever be worth something… My personal favourite. There is this person I know, who said, people enjoy other peoples suffering, as it is success that bothers them. So they scheme, gossip and turn on one another just so they can enjoy in other misery. And that is true. But why is it that no matter how hard we try not to give a fuck we always let others get to our hearts? Perhaps it is the universal flaw of humanity, that no matter what we want to be appreciated, respected, that no matter what we care…

Art of absence

I have been away for a while and for that I apologise, to whole six of you who actually enjoy reading my random and weird thoughts. It has been tough lately. You know how I said the few previous times it is hard for me to connect to others, especially on social media, the writers “must have” tool? Now with all going on, not even finding the time to open twitter, I find myself stunned, looking at the empty status, trying to figure out what funny words I can spew out. What am I suppose to say? What do people like me who do not have in a hindsight an interesting life, or a life at all, what do we say? But I digress. And I am well aware that there are more then six of you, thank you for that. It is a one year anniversary of the site. Yeay! Happy birthday Word Den. True, I haven’t committed fully to the site last year, but few months ago all changed. I am trying, learning and failing, but that’s what life is about. It’s a process. Hard. Unforgiving. Process. But hey, at least we can make the most of it since we are in for a ride, unvoluntarily I may add. I know this week is short considering the content promised, but I did had a good reason. First like I said last time now I am working every day for 10 hours (minimum) so it is hard for now to keep my mind focused. But even with a tight schedule I managed to pull the now weekly POW (oh yea!) and at least two poems. But I deserve a break, right? The other reason some of you might had guessed is the resurgence of my depression, but not to worry… I am curing it right now! As this week’s POW is posted I am right now with my mates, meat on the bbq and a free tap of beer running. It helps. And I have a confession to make. Where usually I would be my normal depressing self, it got me thinking about hope and goodness of life.

Life is a bitch?

Life has a tendency to sort itself out. Things do fall into places where they are supposed to be. Just takes time. The key is to survive until they do. Hard, I know. But then again, while I am reminiscing about some better times, when my mates were still here in one place, not scattered around the world where we are now forced to a yearly meet up, I kept on thinking how the stress and nervousness is unnecessary. Sure, it is in human nature to worry. But to what extent? If I worry about being hit by a car so much so, will I even cross the street? Sometimes all it takes is a leap of faith, a moment of self belief, that maybe, just maybe, things will work out for the better. We stress how we will come on to new people, what if we stay alone or what if our hard work was all for nothing? But thinking about the 14th step, we will be too afraid to even make the first one. Spinning the movie in our head to what might happen, we tend to forget what can happen. Makes sense? I hope so, bear in mind I am quite drunk. Like I said yearly meet up so we do have try out bbq night before the main event. My point is, for the entirety of my life I have tried, sometimes hard and often times giving up before even really giving a shot, applying for jobs that were way above me to jobs a monkey could do. That made the heartache bigger when I didn’t get any. My friends moved on, met new people and fell in love, while I stayed behind lingering in my darkness, drifting further away by doing stupid shit. But for the last year or so, I stopped thinking about the 14th step and kept on my focus on the first. And things are moving. Looking better? I dare to say so. Next year I will be a published author. (Stay tuned!) An achievement I am immensely grateful for, one I don’t take for granted, but one I will try to build on. For the first time in my life I feel like I know what I want. For the first time I feel like I am not pushed by anything or anyone to be something I am not. For the first time now, I am making my own damn path, my road of redemption, to be something I always was, but never admitted to myself I can become. A storyteller…

For better or for worse

Eh, it is a long road. Somehow I dropped out of college because I thought I couldn’t learn or was too stupid to make it. But now I am in a profession that teaches you something every day, where to make it you must want it and commit. Knowing something you want to do, something you want to be is only part of the journey. But damn it, it is a big part to play. Hey, who would had thought one POW where things ain’t so dark after all, you can practically smell the hope oozing out of the site now! But all jokes aside, we are the ones who make our journey, the ones who walk it and the ones who reap the benefits and the wrongs of it, along with blood, sweat and sacrifice that we spend on it. So don’t let anyone tell you how to live your life. They might assume, they always will because we are creatures of chaos and jealousy, we humans, but they will never know the struggles you face. It is your life, your responsibility and your future. Your hope.

Raising a pint to all your good health and may your dreams come true fellow warriors,

A reasonably drunk Harry.

POW: The unexpected life

I honestly don’t know how some of you manage to balance things! With day jobs, personal life and what not, I get it there is still time to write and do your thing, but is there a scenario where I don’t lose my sanity? Is it just just me or do you as well when you got at a certain point in writing, start to hate your day job (or hating more in my case) where you just want to get through the day and hurry home to write? They say the best ideas come when you are sitting on a toilet seat (or so I heard) but in my case they come when I am at work, I hurry up to hide from my boss so I can quickly open the notepad app and write a thing before my mind goes completely blank.

How life twists

It is strange to look back to where we were few years back and compare it to now. Sure we all made our fare share of mistakes, nudged a few inches of our path going astray, but man, for better or for worse, did any one of us think we would end up doing or pursuing things we are right now? Even in my busy schedule I managed to take some old trash from my room and while getting some boxes away I found a piece of paper. Must have been tucked away for years, probably written while I was still in high-school and on it, a blurb. Years ago, I remember writing stories on paper, old school by hand and this was one of those fragments of my past. The blurb of course was incomplete and messy, but the story itself not half bad. I must admit, lately I have fallen on some hard times, doubting myself if I can even do this, balancing work which now I have 10 hours of daily without a day off and just in general fighting depression. But seeing what young Harry wrote gave me hope. I sat on the floor, griping that old piece of paper and just laughing, almost even bursting into tears. It gave me joy, understanding, that even before I had dreams, aspirations. That was my ammo to fight back the depression that keeps on asking, questioning my ability of doing this, with the words “Are you even good?” constantly ringing in my ears. What I learned so far is that life has a sense of humor, a sense of irony particularly. I am constantly pressed down by my mistakes and everyone with mental illness will know it’s a battle each day. Even when you win (and you don’t always win) the pain is still there, the burden never goes away. I don’t like to speak about it, yet I made a promise to myself that I will get more personal. This became a therapy of sorts for me. Is it working? Perhaps, but like I said each day is a battle.

Am I alone out there?

Don’t worry won’t speak again about how when we fight our own demons we often tend to think we are alone in this fight, which it doesn’t have to be the case. No… As I was watching that piece of paper I remember fondly about the stories I created in my mind, my vast imagination running free and unshackled. By that time I thought how hard would be to write a book and I did try but never had the proper motivation. I remember when I was 11 I was at my old potato of a PC trying to write each day. Damn, if anyone told me back then how competitive this all is and how writing a book and pouring your soul into it is not even 50% of the whole process, who knows if I would write the first one. I remember how alone I was back then and how alone do I feel now. Perhaps that’s why it gets to me, when I post something here or on twitter and I get no response, perhaps that’s what makes the question of am I really even good louder… But perhaps it’s not just me. Perhaps there are more of you, who fight with the same questions I do as well. Well, I admire you, knowing what toll it takes on a human body, soul and mind, as the heart begins to break, bit by bit. But presented with a choice of that question, what are we to do? To just give up after our heart literary went in our work? No, of course not. We do the only thing we can, the only thing we know how to do. We bite our teeth, pushing forward. Because we know what’s behind, waiting for us. And everything, even the risk of a heartache, is better than that.

The attitude of a loser

To my firends I seem overconfident because I say I will make it, I will be big. The truth is, it’s not my ego speaking but my pain. For years I tried to be more than no one, applying for countless jobs I can find and failing just because I wanted a career, a meaning. Like all of us I strive for meaning. I was told I won’t be anyone, I will die alone somewhere in a ditch. That’s the reason of my confidence. Its not a fake one, no. After I applied for jobs as all of my firends finished uni or had great careers even if I got to the next round of interviews and was close to getting it, it was the pain of telling them over and over again “Oh I didn’t get it…” that killed me. One by one I saw it in their eyes the same words many people spoke to me over the years. You won’t be anyone. You won’t matter. Perhaps it is the fear of those words, that I never won’t forget, that planted the seed for my depression. But perhaps those words, which will always follow me, are what make me say “Always forward!”

Still keeping up with it,

Harry.

Restful Night (poetry collection)

Now all poetry and later down the line the collection of short stories that I am currently working on (Live, Die, Repeat) will be available all on one place on Wattpad. Right now you can go check out “Restful Night” the poetry collection! Tomorrow as promised the second part of the short story is coming here! Hope you are all having a great day!

https://www.wattpad.com/story/270378037?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details_button&wp_uname=HarissonShaws&wp_originator=t5RHuPBv%2BVQ2SHWSBdEUloTmtC4yKPaosKSQ9%2B9G%2BVuPvYG3N%2BvNjBKiVyrFEW0ipSX%2BO6I2nhZTWsRTCqTYeoed8OTbBR7Kab0qWPDHsEi0W3eJPp4huaNsTkW6ex3p

Confession / Realization

Shattering thoughts

coursing through my veins,

it is not the night ,

that brings horrors to my mind,

It is the day I am fearing,

As with new light,

My mistakes are shined,

Opened and bare,

I am naked in front of the world…

Crossroad of life

Through darkness my soul wanders,

searching for meaning,

searching for the remnants of past times,

to remember when the heart was whole,

so once again for a brief moment it can taste the sweetness of peace,

remembrance of love and care,

but in vain.

As all withers so does my soul,

so does my peace,

now only chaos and discomfort fill the gaping hole that life left behind.

And I am left to wonder…

Did the meaning of it pass next to me with the passage of time,

as I know,

the world waits for no man,

as it couldn’t care less for petty problems of feeble life.

Now left on the crossroads of life,

I feel I reached my bitter end,

as dark thoughts as my only companion remain.

Hope vanished, but yet remains,

a fool of a man,

on the crossroads of life,

waiting for a better day…

Upcoming book: Last Viking of Norway, out 8th of August on Amazon

I am proud to present my debut in the literary world with my first book called “Last Viking of Norway”. Yesterday I posted a small part from it and I want to thank all for the good reception I received . As many of you who have several books under your belt know, the fear of publishing your first book is tremendous, weights heavy over you, almost wanting to crush you. So again I am thankful for all of your encouragement. What I found the hardest in this process was answering a simple question, that somehow was the first thing everyone asked. What is the book about? So few days before it is out on Amazon, I’ll try to answer that question.

Destiny. It is what binds is, connects us, it is what burdens us. As soon as we draw our first breath, entering this crazy and twisted world, we are burdened by one thing, finding a purpose. Old Vikings believed that their life is completely in the hands of destiny, from the moment of birth to the last breath they take, everything is planed. With that premonition they lost all fear, as what would they be afraid of when they have no say so in the next step. Our story starts with an unnamed boy, who came to Oslo, studying. But he wasn’t born there. He was raised in a remote village to the north, a place untouched by modern times, were old Viking tradition and stories still matter. But he is lost. Suddenly all he does feels unworthy, like all he does makes no difference. That boy is in pain, as he suffered a loss. His grandfather has passed away, his last living relative. A man he held so dear, a man who he considered a father. He wasn’t there to say his farewell, so now he needs to pick himself up, and face the fact that his father is gone and needs a burial. But the boy feels indebted. The old man was a warrior. Does he really deserve to be thrown in to the ground? Or perhaps he deserves the ultimate honor, of entering Valhalla? But no one is burned anymore. Like the old man said no more pyres for the fallen, as there is no more wars to fight in. But the young man knows that you can either deny the path destiny offers or embrace it. So he will do what he must, he will return to the village, face the elders and honor his fallen father, no matter the cost. Inspired by “Catcher in the rye”, “Perks of being a wallflower” and “Imaginary Friend”, “Last Viking of Norway” puts the perspective in the hands of a young adult, Ragnar, who asks the hard questions that even the adults are afraid of. It’s is a story about destiny and how loud can one man’s actions be. That after all, even the oldest of us, can’t see the errors of our ways, one man can be enough to redeem all. But then again if we take the path destiny offers, should we be afraid of the outcome of that path?

To many “The last Viking of Norway” is a tale of destiny and the question it often presents to us. The question of the story we leave after we are long gone. Be it glory, be it suffering, the echoes of the whispers we leave can ether shake throughout history or be silenced by one word. With our story we can inspire generations or warn them, to heed our steps we took that brought us to our despair. But this story, Ragnar’s story, does not just belong to him. He selflessly bows himself to the elements, to destiny herself, to offer a tale that will be told for years to come. A story of one man who dared to prove he was worthy, against the feeble hearts of men who dared to corrupt. Despite the heavy flow of the river he found himself in, he swam against it, against men who were older and thought with age comes wisdom, honor and respect, as if those were mere things that can be owned and bought. His story belongs to his people, all people, to never forget its hardship, the price it may take, but the story that the path to it entails, as on it we must prove our own worth, make our own honor and tell our own tale. And it is up to us how our story will be told. But the question of this tale perhaps is a more selfish one. Perhaps it is not the matter how others will tell our story even after we are gone, as they say history is written by the victor, or better yet to the ones who are left breathing after we pass. Perhaps the more important task is how we view our own story, as who is better to know the pain, the suffering and joy we endured, but ourselves. It is tale of a young man who goes against his elders, the ones many looked up to lead them. But our protagonist, Ragnar, sees their corruption, the betrayal of the old ways they hold so dear. Even if the truth was that they honor tradition and the past as it sees fit with the power they hold, no one would believe Ragnar, just a mere boy who dares to slander older and more experienced than himself . A son to a father who tried the same, bringing shame to the whole family. But the family name still holds value to his people, thanks to his Grandfather, who led them, helped them and was one of them. But after his grandfather passes away, Ragnar is faced with a choice to honor him, not as a man, but a true Viking. Which meant giving him a proper funeral in their old way. Even if the village held to the old traditions, Viking funerals were forbidden, as they were reserved for only the ones that fell in battle, not people like his Grandfather who died from natural causes. Still Ragnar feels in debt to a man who raised him and to who all looked up, seeing a true warrior. For that he is willing to go against the elders, who hold the power unchallenged. But honoring the old man was not the only thing that haunted the young Ragnar. When he last saw him, Grandfather confessed that his father was obsessed by a legend that even wasn’t told to Ragnar, a legend of a lone and lost warrior, the last Viking, who will be summoned by only the most worthy of his blood, to lead his people back to the age of glory, an age that Ragnar’s father, just like him, thought his people long forgot. His father got lost in that legend, which somehow made its way deep into Ragnar’s mind, making him follow the path to find the lost warrior and redeem his people. Just like Salinger’s Holden, Ragnar sees the world differently than the adults that live above him. He despises their power over all, as he sees the corrupt ways it led them too. Unlike Holden, Ragnar does not let pride or adolescent cockiness cloud his intention. He was raised on old stories of gods and heroes, filled with honor and glory, he understands the burden destiny provides, accepting the duty of bringing the long lost forgotten glory to his people. But even with that high dose of understanding, Ragnar is filled with rage towards the elders, the adults in his world and their blindness to things so obvious. But there are things higher than Ragnar, higher then the elders, his father or his grandfather. No matter what the price is, he is ready to pay it, to endure all the hardship, as the actions of one man can still matter, can still be enough to redeem them all. Because they are Norse, they endure.

Inspired by J.D Salinger and Stephen Chbosky, “Last Viking of Norway” tells the story of a young adult who navigates his way in the adult world. But unlike “Catcher in the rye” or “Perks of being a wallflower”, “Last Viking of Norway” puts its corner stone on tradition, obligation and honor. Unlike Holden or Charlie, Ragnar is raised on premonition of honor and the fruits his actions bring. From childhood, he is raised as a Viking, under strict discipline and strong definition of honor and its important meaning. But the similarity to the two of them is that even if Ragnar is raised in different conditions, he like them tries his best to navigate life in his surroundings. The story asks questions do the young really see problems that the adults deny and can they make a difference, even if as the adults put it, they are merely children. It is a story about obligation, honor, about how important is one man towards many and how hard or important is to honor the old ways, the past, as it comes clashing with the way we live today.

“Last Viking of Norway” out on Amazon on Saturday, 8th of August, 2020.

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