It certainly helps whenever I write about things; I always get a clearer insight from them.They used to ask us what does writing means to us, my friend said he will die without it; I answered, I will go insane if I stopped writing. Besides, writing is a whole cheaper than therapy, more so in our culture where depression is not tolerated. Is it because we are just so happy as a nation, we cannot accept being otherwise?
Anyway, back to my truth.My parents, 2006 and my books, though they have influence my disposition and where I am today, are not to be blamed. The truth is, I had to be where I had to be. My mistake is I let the situation entrapped me and it had been a struggle to escape. Throw in self-doubt and insecurity, I suddenly found myself in a hell hole I unconsciously made.I became afraid; if my relatively sheltered world had been so harsh, what more the real world?
