It's 16.55, the sky has grown darker, so dark in fact that I decided not to switch on the light and instead lit up a small candle on my desk as I drown in the beauty of this piece.

Listening to such music is like feeling as though you suddenly do have wings... and you can fly away so high, into a whole other world, or universe, and all that is felt is felt a million times more intensely than anything you could be made to feel in reality.

As I was sitting here at my desk, I reflected further on my earlier sadness, and my deep sense of alienation .It made me think that I simply needed to focus on what’s real in my life, even though everything in my life is pretty shit and empty right now… but at least it’s REAL. And, who knows… if I start paying more attention to my reality, I may one day see things start falling into place as it does for the majority out there… And even if nothing changes, I still need to try.

I'll always be the way I am, and I do believe it is a beautiful way to be... I just need to open up to the world a little bit more all the while avoiding being so over-trusting and even reckless at times.

Yes.. I noticed for myself how reckless I could be sometimes, and I'm not sure why that is. Maybe it's a direct effect of being child-like at heart and therefore too spontaneous in a world full of scheming and double-crossing individuals. I'm like a toddler reaching for the flame burning on the stove despite the parents' warning that it will burn.

Yet... if the world was full of genuine, good people, then my nature would have nothing to worry about... but what use is it to dwell on the 'what ifs' when reality shows itself as being the complete opposite? And... I always sought beauty and marvels, so I was always attracted to the odd and bizarre simply because it looked slightly different from the bland, robot-like norm.

I long for love, but let's face it, I haven't been very loveable so far in my life. It's all up to me now... Earlier in my life, I had very little control over my existence, but now I do.

I need to get back to my writings... I have stories bugging me to get out of my head, and I feel for them the same way a mother must feel when she's expecting.

One of the most beautiful allegories I ever came across was from Plato, actually, who likened the art of writing as exactly the same as a woman in labour... You have to carry the story in your head for a long time, and then you must give birth to it, and that process is just as painful in many ways. Sometimes there are complications, sometimes the birth goes without a hitch.

I am not just a woman, I am a writer, and I am a human being who uses her reason to be a thinker rather than an individual, or even just a mere person.