11:23 pm letter

Could this be another change – The Samples

Dear friend,

I have seen things in my life. Elders being picked on by youngsters, priests helping a homeless man having a seizure, girls kissing, a crying teacher, a wounded dog, a child in the dirty water of the underground canal, smiling babies, a proud father, a crying mother, pink nipples, running hawkers, dried leaves flying, dead trees moving, a black dog with its newborn puppies, a red-eyed rabbit, a green-loving tortoise, a mother insulted by her daughter, half-tanned boobs of a stranger,  a tourist removing her panties in the sea, and the light coming through leaves as the sun rose. I just don’t think that I know life yet. Maybe a small part of it. A beautiful part of it. However, death seems to be a calm alternative as well. When I see the horror that human beings are capable of doing I wonder, maybe we are better off all dead. Such atrocities should not be allowed. We all have some kind of horrifying story in our life. To what degree I don’t know. My life has been pretty idle, pretty normal. I guess that explains my inability to see atrocities as a mere part of life. I wonder, are atrocities considered atrocities because society decided so? If there were no society, no rules, no norms, no values, and there were just, us. These ‘atrocities’ would still be there, except, they would only be seen as occurrences, made possible by our own very existence. So, maybe death is the solution. Death is calm, soundless. It is inevitable, and probably better for everyone.

On the other hand, there is life. Life is the wind blowing straight to your face, it is you closing your eyes as you spread your arms wide open, feeling the light on your shoulders. Life is freedom. I guess our choices define who we are. You know, choosing is way harder than just, Being. Being is like going with the flow, careless about the outcome, just enjoying whatever comes our way. Whereas choosing, choosing is choosing where to pinpoint our stream, where we want to go, and who we want to be. It is much more difficult to put ourselves out there than waiting for others to do that in our place. But when you’re a 18 year old ‘adult’ like me, you wished you could return to the time when forgetting things was the worst that could happen to you, and not the best.

I really don’t know what’s got into me, always writing letters. I guess they’re my alternative to speaking alone. At least my mother won’t listen behind the door or my sister surprising me by my window. Writing letters is much less embarrassing. You could at least pretend you’re writing an essay or something. I wonder why I’m so open. I never really was. I always kept a facade, thinking I knew what I was doing, thinking people liked it. They hated it. They still do. And I don’t really give a damn about it. Negative people belong to the thrash. I’m no better, I know, you know that. But I guess having a dark side doesn’t prevent us from seeing the darkness in others right? We see it in others, because we can recognize it. The only difference is whether you know how to pull yourself out of it or not.

The only way to go in life is forward. Thinking about the past is pointless. Memories have an effect on you when they’re worth remembering. The worst thing for someone is using his present to think about the past. It’s like rewinding the first half of a movie over and over again in your head while the second half is playing just in front of your eyes and you’re too busy remembering to notice anything. It’s hard though, not thinking about the past. It always manages to grab you and shove down your throat memories you don’t want to remember.

But everything happens for a reason. I’ve always fiercely believed in this. Anything and anyone, all heartbreaks and refusals and pain, everything has a purpose.  It may have multiple purposes as well, you just need to be open minded enough to let it in. Sad are the people who think that their life brings them nowhere. It is even worse for those who do not notice the little things and focus on the big picture. They are bound to live in a spiraling life of undeserved misery. I blame it on the materialistic nature of modern-day society. They always seem to squeeze their lemon-prejudiced acid on us, the salad before the meat. Social networking has made it even more sour, cultivating fallacy, pushing back the bounds of human decency, encouraging the outrageous hypocrisy of human identity. Duck faces have replaced values and The Biebs has replaced The rolling stones. May God forgive us.

Anyway, it is late, I may come back later.

Good night.



The Know-It-All

My past experiences with primary and high school were not great.

You often encounter empty-headed people judging you without having an ounce of knowledge of where you come from. Sadly, this very predicament is a global phenomena. In all societies, all cultures and all spheres of human stupidity, labeling is a must if you are to be considered a fully socialized human  in a judgement-driven goal to categorize and dominate the weak. Pretty damn stupid if you ask.

The know-it-all is found everywhere. At work, at home, in the media and mostly at school. Young people love to elect the know-it-all in a collective unconscious (and in the mean circles, consciously) agreement.

The Know-it-all is often seen as annoying, attention-seeking, arrogant, ignorant, immature, naive, different, unfriendly, too friendly, desperate, irritating, stupid, show-off, awkward, mean, close-minded, distant, virginal, unattractive, asexual, uncool, retard, slow, fast and this can go on and on.

People love to feel they are above others, especially above the know-it-all. And when they are in groups, it is even more fun. [Cue the sarcasm] The know-it-all has to master the skill of ignoring the whole class rolling their eyes every time The know-it-all dares to ask a question. Of course, asking a question when you have a doubt is completely unacceptable. Oh, and there is, of course, a limit of questions you have the right to ask. Indeed, the moment you cross that limit, you are immediately considered as an attention-seeker. No, people won’t assume that you’re someone who wants to understand the fullest. No, they will, instead, appreciate and take note of the answer to the annoying question because they were too scared to ask the question themselves. Most people do not realize that The Know-it-all doesn’t give a flying fuck of their fucking opinion. That’s why The Know-it-all asks so many questions. Partly to annoy the rolling eyes, and throw rolling stones to their rolling asses when they rolling in the deep corners of  failure at their exams.

I’ve heard my fair share of snorts and snickering and gossiping about how annoying I am. People do not care about how The Know-it-all feels. They only like to react exaggeratedly to the mere answering of The know-it-all by sniggering or just scoffing. They won’t even try to understand The Know-it-all, it is so much easier to see The Know-it-all as someone to be called stupid . They won’t think that the Know-it-all has to live up to expectations at home, because her parents count on her. They won’t think a second that The Know-it-all has to face judgmental rolling eyes whenever she tries to understand better a concept she doesn’t know. Even the stupidest question is important to her. School is made to understand. The Know-it-all doesn’t want to be engrossed in that counter-culture that cultivates the notion that being rebellious and lazy and inattentive in class is “cool”. Because being rebellious, lazy and inattentive isn’t going to bring anyone anywhere. I respect all Know-it-alls in that world, because they have been strong enough to stand up against all the lazy-tards trying to lure them into an easy life.

I went from being the underestimated person to the annoying one. And if I had the chance to do it all over again, I definitely would. I changed myself because I was tired of being the loser. I changed myself for me. And if The know-it-all changed herself for those she loves, or those she hates, nothing good would come out of it. Because in the end, she’ll never be who she is. A smart person. The irony in being a know-it-all is that you never get called smart. You want to show that you are clever, but jealousy comes in the way of people or their need to crush someone and use their weakness to feel superior comes in and destroys all hope for the Know-it-all to have genuine friends.

In the mind of a know-it-all, being knowledgeable is good. But knowing the right thing is more important. The only way to do so, is by asking questions and answering them to check whether you understand. As simple as that. The know-it-all won’t give up hours of hard-work to remain silent just because others didn’t bother opening their copybooks. The know-it-all won’t be loyal to people who will never be loyal in return. It’s pathetic the way people think nowadays. This world has got a mindset that respects laziness and irresponsibility instead of morality. It has mixed up genuine friendship with friendship with benefits. It is unfair to those who work hard to have to face the bullying of every day life just because they work hard. People, seeing others being hard workers, would rather bring them down instead of trying to work hard too. And that is the sad truth people. That is the sad truth.

The Know-It-all.

I Remember…


6 January 1996

…I remember the walls. Not too cold, not too warm. They always came in handy when you’re one year old.

My chubby hands kept me still since I couldn’t stand properly. I liked to feel the cool walls because they were relaxing, and they were fun. I always had goosebumps when I pressed my forehead on them. Mom had made me wear fluffy socks. Seriously, who wears fluffy socks in summer? Nevertheless, in Mauritius no one cares, you always wear fluffy socks when it is a special day, even for funerals.

There were lots of people in the living room. Whispers, laughs, gossip and people I couldn’t recognize passed by me.  I was taking quick looks in the packed living room. Every time someone caught my eye I giggled and ran as my little black shoes tap-tapped on the hard floor. I hid under my blanket with my pink ‘Pampers’ diaper in the air and my curly hair under my pillow.

It was the day of my very first birthday.

My grand father was still alive then, he was holding the alcoholic drink that made his breath constantly smell. Now I realize we had the same wrinkles under our eyes when we laughed. On that day I heard his laughing,. It made me feel happy, secure, it was something I could recognize amongst these weird unknown faces.

I don’t really know if I was hiding behind the wall because I was scared, shy or just playing. Maybe it was all three combined. I liked to tease people back then, I still do. Toddlers tend to get quite intimidated when there are a lot of people. I wasn’t, not really. I felt the excitement because somehow I knew it was a special day. My father was still thin back then and my mother had those wild curls that were fashionable in the 90’s. My godmother wanted to be a nun (she’s no longer now, she’s now happily married with two hyperactive chubby children) and I was the first grandchild born into the family. It was indeed a big event for everyone!

I couldn’t walk, so I walked on all fours until I reached the wooden chairs in my living room. I grabbed one of them by the foot and tried to stand. The following moment is still blurry but I remember all the singing, hugging and kisses. I was overwhelmed, so I began to cry. I was the only toddler of the party after all.

Now I’m 18 years old. Considered an ‘adult’ by my society. 17 years have passed and I wonder, is my innocence gone forever? I cling to that identity most of us try to find during our adolescence when it is actually what lies deep within us that ends up being who we are. The hardest thing is to be able to stay true to yourself while making choices, facing judgements and having to meet up with expectations of society.


This post is part of a Weekly Writing Challenge by the Daily Post.

And the theme I chose was “Your earliest memory.” 

The Friendly Enemy

“Its funny how sometimes the people you’d take a bullet for, are the ones behind the trigger.”


I think we all, at some point of our lives, encountered the experience of the Friendly Enemy.

Some people call them hypocrites, fakers, two-faced, Judas, turncoats, best friends. Unfortunately, I’m one of those people who believed that it wasn’t nearly possible for a friend to be backstabbing.

My story begins like any other naive teenager who looked for her identity in this world that suddenly appears to be too big, too scary. We suddenly feel the need of an anchor, someone to be our ally and confess in them all of our dirty little secrets, feel like they matter, like we matter. I trusted wholly, became even emotionally and socially dependent, on that one anchor. And it ends up being a typical story of the backstabbing friend who changes drastically in the time span of a year. Then slowly, you learn things that the friend did behind your back, that the friend said behind your back during the time when you’d give up anything for them.


It’s not a sad story when you realize that you’re stronger from that experience. Of course, you feel stupid for having trusted them but at that time I guess they were actually genuine. With time people just reveal who they are, and who they are going to be the rest of their lives. That’s what adolescence is meant for: finding yourself. And I’m glad I grew up right. At least, I think I did. We never really find ourselves and I’m sure that hypocrite hasn’t found herself yet, at least I hope for her. But still, our choices make us who we are. Our actions make us who we are. So, if you choose to strip yourself in front of a webcam while the crush of your ‘best friend’ is eagerly scrutinizing every inch of your naked body, that only makes you an easy hussy with a serious lack of self-esteem. I’m not sorry.

Friendly Enemies come back to you like parasites. When they see that their actions brought them nothing but regret and loneliness they come back to the people they hurt with a smile as if they did nothing wrong, thinking that the more genuine their smile appears, the easier they’ll be accepted back. The thing is, we’re not all as easy as they think we are.


Friendly enemies do not care about you. They just care about being listened, surrounded, admired. They proudly say that they do not need anyone. They’re like bees, going from flower to flower, taking away their pollen (in this case: information) and put that pollen in another gullible flower.

Knowledge is power. And Friendly Enemies know that very well. They acquire the maximum of information from the maximum of people and know that knowing about those people mean that they have an influence, a control over their actions. They know people depend on them.

Friendly Enemies like criticizing people above all. You may feel privileged at times, but keep in mind that if they are able to talk sh*t on people, they are very much able to talk sh*t about you. I want to make an appeal to all those girls and boys and hermaphrodites out there who trust someone deeply: THE ONLY ONE YOU CAN TRUST ENTIRELY IS YOURSELF. You may trust some people a lot, but never, ever, ever do it 100%. 99.9% is okay. You never know who may turn out being untrustworthy.


Fortunately, there’s that wonderful thing called Karma 🙂

Friendly Enemies often do not last long in a group of friends, because eventually the group will realize that there’s a hypocrite lurking around, judging, talking behind people’s back to the same people they talked about, behind their back. The most gratifying thing is seeing them alone. I know I sound mean, but after all they did, I just have to be satisfied.


The world isn’t perfect, the people even less.

Nevertheless, despite the existence of Friendly Enemies, I think we all should focus on the bright side of things. There ARE true friends out there, and it isn’t your fault if you happen to fall on the wrong ones. Eventually you’ll find someone who’ll be worth your secrets, your confidence, your affection and even love. People are not bad, they just choose to be. And you are smart if you make smart choices. Friends are wonderful. They are another crazy, smarter, incredible, sensible version of you.

Friendly enemies may be horrible to people, but they may be hypocrites because of reasons we do not know. Maybe they are just depressed, lonely or have issues at home. Some of them may feel like they do not fit and are scared of completely trusting someone, so they’d rather have people trust them and then they hurt them before being hurt themselves. Justifying their actions is not a good thing, i know, but well, I can’t help but hope that people are not as bad as they seem to be. Just like people are not as good as they seem to be.




there is a balance in everything, the only thing that makes a difference is the choice that you make.

Peace out.