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.

Always for you

For you
my broken mind given,
Drenched in love and understanding,
Mended.

For you,
All the support I gave,
You took, invested,
Now yearning of your heart,
The once two pieces to be whole.

For you,
Always for you,
Every breath, every heartbeat,
For a reason exists,
A glorious purpose it knows,
As it smiles,
Awaiting,
For your embrace.

Voice of hope

A shattering thought occurred
Like a seed planted it grew,
Took my brain apart as the heart brew,
A new emotion, one known,
But lost a while ago.

And that thought it clearly spoke,
I sat and listened,
With a pinch of salt,
Not to know if it was true,
Familiar only with the dark,
In which my heart grew.


I sat there confused,
Looking out not amused,
Unable to rid myself of the words heard,
You are better and better you deserve.

Process of writing PT2: The constant burden of depression

I feel grateful, firstly for the opportunity to be in this position to pursue writing passionately. Secondly seeing the first part of this series being greeted so warmly, can’t stress enough how good it made me feel. So decided to make this a weekly thing, a series not just about writing but about battling depression and anxiety.

What they don’t tell you

You might heard the expression “You never defeat your demons, you just learn to live with them.” But they don’t tell you, it never goes away. That feeling of guilt, that anxiety of the constant pressure from the smallest of things that presses your heart and contracts your mind, making the breathing inconsistent, putting you down so much you just find yourself on the bedroom floor crying, unable to find the reason to get up. The harsh truth here is, it never gets better. One day you will get up, go by your day, make coffee, go to work and perhaps you will just find yourself sitting down and realising you haven’t thought about the crap that puts you away in that tiny box of thoughts. But some days… It will come creeping behind the curtains of a sunny day, deceiving the perception of potential happiness. So the harsh truth no one dares to tell you? It never gets better, but you do…

Pity instead of understanding

You heard the stories. Some of you knew the tales from first hand, be it personal experience or losing a loved one. It’s difficult to open up, even to someone we love, trust or know for a long time. I did the same mistake, opening myself to disappointment. You expect not a shoulder to cry on, but someone to have your back, someone to listen, someone to understand. How many of you, like me, got the whole known response of pity, heard the good ol’ “depression ain’t real, just don’t feel sad all the time!” The world and the people in it can often be disappointing. What you have to understand is… There are us who been through what you might be feeling now, you ain’t alone, don’t be afraid to reach out… Because we do understand…

You can’t please everyone

I talked about the imposter syndrome, how it always keep coming, making you doubt every written line and it’s quality. But haven’t touched on one thing. When you start this journey, becoming a writer, you post your work (be it a book, a blog or a tweet) for everyone to see. You expose yourself to everyone and their feedback. Sure, you are well aware that the negative words and connotations are inevitable. But you never are really prepared for its impact it can have on the already broken mind. I spoke before about my good friend and one of the first things he taught me is this. You can’t please everyone. If hundred people read your work, be ready that at least tenth of that won’t like it. The most important thing is this. Whatever you write, write for yourself, not for others. If you are proud of what you wrote, people will rally behind it, they will see the soul and heart behind the work you left. And feedback? As authors we need it to grow, take it to heart, correct your mistakes and grow. But distinct real feedback from malicious words of ill intent.

The community

If you are just starting or even if you are as me for quite some time in it, rally behind this amazing community of writers. I got to admit I was sceptical, afraid and somewhat hesitant of reaching out to my fellow writers. As a depressed introvert I still find it hard to reach out and talk to people. But believe me, they will not disappoint. These people are the most amazing and supportive you will find. You will find friends and allys in your journey. And they know well what you are going through. Same as with the struggles of depression and life, the struggles of the writing path you don’t need to walk alone. There are always people willing to help.

A note of gratitude

I enjoy this, perhaps I am using it just to vent out, say the words I couldn’t usually say out loud, but I want to believe it’s more then that. A manifesto, a note to all that might feel same as me, that they ain’t alone and perhaps they can find solidarity in these written words. I want to thank you for taking your time to read it, the support you provide and the amazing work you do. I found joy in poetry that I wrote often here, joy that battles hard with the heavy thoughts that come knocking. It’s a daily struggle, but realise this. If you have the strength to survive those thoughts on a daily basis, you have the strength to fight back. All of you have the immense strength inside you and never forget that.

She was a storm

She looked like the heart of a storm,
Fierce and unrelenting,
In her path nothing stood.

But the storm is lonesome,
As it trembles into the night
Without meaning or purpose.

As it’s in the nature of chaos,
To burn and destroy,
Her touch left her alone,
In her eyes I saw the prison of the soul,
Trapped to suffer,
By her own volition,
Her own intent,
Her own choice…

But she was a storm…
Unobtainable and unsettled…
Mending her heart, caring for it,
She warned I will get burnt…
Through her fire I walked,
In hopes I will light the desire to love…

I embraced her chaos, held her beating heart,
As it listened to the music of my own,
Song of one became the music of two,
Singing in unison,
As I embraced her…
I became a storm…

Tether of life

Hope is not for the faint of heart
It tests one resolve,
Clinking and skimming the metal,
Cracking the armor of creed…

But it’s fear that’s the fuel of all life’s decisions,
The harsh mentor keeping the straight line of our choices…

What is feared, is cared for,
As it’s the potential loss of it that ignites the fires of combat,

What is cared for, is loved,
The eternal bond, an unbreakable tether
That binds the will to fight with the will to live…

And what is loved, is desired,
As without desire, without hope…
The colour of life fades,
Without wanting for a better tomorrow…
Today is lost…

Crown of thoughts

Heavy is the burden of thoughts,
The eternal crown that lays,
On the shoulders of the mending heart.
It twists and turns,
The perception of time.
What once was good,
Now is gone…
As this is sorrow’s domain,
Kingdom of unjust retribution,
Where mistakes are eternal,
Where redemption evens with retribution…

But what sorrow fears,
It still remains,
Hidden in secret,
Beneath all doubt and pain,
Kindness kisses the broken heart…

Ymir’s legacy (P.T.2)

Getting through the huge cracks in the external barrier made Hellnar think even more about what could had caused that kind of damage. Was the Bone Crusher right all along? Did the gods punish them, exiling them from Midgard? The walls were huge, it would make one think only giants could manage to build such monstrosities. But whoever did put them there, what happened to them? Where are they now? Did someone kill them all? Perhaps whoever could brake these fortifications proved to be more then a match. Whatever dwells here now might be their reckoning.

The land beyond the wall was different. Even if it was mostly covered in snow, it reeked of death. The chilling embrace was not caused by the falling temperatures, but rather by the dreary feeling that enveloped these lands. It was filled with questions that they did not know how to answer. The high snow fell on  most of the structures that were beyond the wall, burying them down, creating a graveyard of a once great nation. What little that was left, stuck out from the white dust, soaring into the air. It seemed no matter how harsh were the elements in their effort to erase this place, it still fought back, as some structures were intact from the snow, still accessible from land. The group looked in awe to the sunken city of ice. Beyond the wall, as far as the eye could reach, a clear view that this was no mere city, but a proud and advance nation that held this area. Strange pillars with spikes and cords struck out of the ground, soaring high into the air. Surrounding the group as they followed their curiosity inland, were these massive rubbles of steel and all sorts of unknown metal. Feki, allowing his curiosity to get the better of him, broke off from them, running away towards the few buildings that they could get in. “Where does this fool go now?”, Orm said getting the attentionof the party as everyone turned towards Feki who got lost beyond the metal pillars that stood in front of a giant building that was half sunk into the snow, but still revealing its door to all. “We shouldn’t split up. Not now. Aldur! Stay with your idiot of a brother and make sure he doesn’t get himself killed. Yet… Rest of you lets move on forward, perhaps we will find some luck and some supplies. Night is bound to find this place as well. No matter how much this land is lost. Shelter would be nice too. And don’t touch anything, for Odin’s sake!” Hellnar shouted at the Bone Crusher, who laid his hand on a metal chunk that fell to the ground, but as soon as Hellnar raised his voice, the mountain of a man pulled his hand back to himself, as if he wasn’t twice the size of his leader, rather feeling like a small child scolded as if his mother caught him eating her fresh apple pie.

While others were bickering about what to do next, Feki marveled in the architecture of this place, daydreaming what wonders lived here, how this place was in its prime.
He strayed far enough, finding a perfectly preserved ruin. With half of it missing, the other half was in pristine condition, allowing the young warrior to enter. He found it strange, as there was no furniture, the half building that was missing resembled a sword cut, as if a humongous blade cut it in half. As Feki dwelled further in, all he could find was a big white boulder just sitting in the middle of one room. The stone was strange, as it was cold on touch, feeling more like a cold metal than if you would put your hand in snow. On it just a small black curricular mirror in which Feki saw his reflection. It amused the young pup, as he watched himself in it. As he touched it, the black mirror suddenly turned bright red, the boulder released a dreadful sound, as if someone blew the war horn and it moved. The stone was alive, it stretched and four legs came out of it and before Feki a metal beast with legs and a mouth appeared.

It was hard to explain, a wolf in metal armor was the closest thought that went to his mind, as firstly it moved its head, observing him. Feki pulled his sword forth ready to defend himself, but the iron wolf just stood there, moving only his head back and forth. Feki’s heart punted so fast, as calm left him, being replaced by panic and fear. His left foot fumbled, making him almost fall on his back as he wanted to gain distance from the beast. As his leg suddenly went down, the wolf moved with astonishing speed.

A loud cry could be heard through, filling the chilling air. “What was that?”, Orm asked as he looked around for the source of the cry. “Where is Feki?” As soon as Helnar asked, Aldur rushed sprinting. The rest followed closely behind and as they made just few yards from where they originally were, a gruesome shight greeted them. The metal beast, with a glowing red eye, bright as the sun itself, slowly stepped forth, holding the top of Feki’s mutilated body. The blood was still fresh, dripping on the cold snow below. Aldur’s eyes filled with rage and tears, seeing his brother’s body desecrated. He released a piercing battle cry and without thought, with his axe held high, charged the beast.

As he lunged forward, the beast without too much effort evaded him, quickly moving to the side. It dropped its trophy, as the torso rolled down its mouth, now with all focus on Aldur, it circled around him. The rest just watched in shock, not understanding what has happened. The beast was something from stories, but no moment was wasted as they all went to aid their comrade. Aldur went forth once again, now successfully hitting the beast. But as his axe touched its cold skin, it just broke in pieces. The iron of the wolf was much harder then their steel, rendering their weapons unless. The beast tried to bite Aldur, but before it could even reach him, the others engaged, just to be greeted by the same outcome. Their blades cracked and broke as the wolf pushed Orm away, sending him flying into the air. Its sole focus was on Aldur, as it slowly stepped forward to his pray. But the giant of a man he was,  the Bone Crusher clenched the beast, grabbing its jaw. But it knocked Olaf down to the ground and bit off his hand. As it came to finish the job, it bit the stump of  the bleeding arm, holding it and while it was in the wolf’s jaws, Olaf with all his might punched the red eye, embedding his fist into it, pulling the strings that were inside.

As he retracted his fist, the wolf released again the sound of a horn, tumbling to the side and withering away, becoming lifeless and motionless. Olaf held his bleeding wound, where once his arm was, as the others came. Helnar quickly made a fire, commanding his men to hold the Bone Crusher as he burned the stump, stopping the bleeding. Olaf didn’t even flinch as his breath was deep.

Aldur mourned and cried over his dead brothers body, or what was left of it. Orm grabbed him, trying to pull him away. “NO! Let me be with him! Let me be with my brother!”, he shouted, fighting the old man se he tried to escape his grasp. “It’s all right lad… He is gone… Your brother is gone..” Orm tried to condole the young warrior. But he just knleeded on the bloodied snow, crying. Fear filled Helnar’s heart, as he was now sure… This is not Midgard, only death awaits him and his men here.

As the men gathered around, lifting Olaf and Aldur, through the land a sorrowful sound pierced the air. Same as the wolf’s, as if someone blew a horn, but now louder and bigger. One after the other it continued to blow, shaking the ground, vibrating it, moving the very snow beneath the Vikings feet. As the fearful sound came closer with every other horn, there, in the distance, a big shape could be seen, a shadow beneath the fog.

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

Her eyes of pain

Her eyes spoke the truth,
In her pain I had fallen in love,
The melody that resonated with mine,
Followed closely with her every step…
But sorrow is an ugly companion,
Diminished of hope, the flame withered,
With her every look I there saw,
Where once the colourful eyes stood,
Pale notion, like glass, was replaced…
What broke me more,
distance that was caused,
In her gaze, my image I saw…

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