In a dark room, no way out. Just a small window to let in air. Just enough to breathe but never enough to actually live. Then suddenly, a little light. The room becomes clearer. Hours pass by, it gets brighter. And then it’s dark again. It’s night time, but finally, finally there’s a reason to look forward to the next day.

In case you didn’t catch it, that’s my writing story. I’ve always had a thing for dramatic entrances and what better time or rather, place to make use of it. I lost my dad when I was 11 years and yes, this is probably going to be one of those cliche sob stories, but ‘read’ me out. I promise not to make you cry.
11 is young, you barely know what death is. Your friends barely know what death is. Hence the dark room. And for months I cried myself to sleep, then smiled my way through the day. Save your pity, I survived. Thanks to the little light – my writing. And ever since then, it’s been my therapy, my comfort.

So I hope this will be your escape as it was for me. I promise to regale you with tales that will have you smiling through your teeth, bawling your eyes out but most importantly, make you see the world through my eyes simply because I’m that interesting!