Process of Writing: Why is it easier to undermine then to understand?

I am sick of people wanting more. Pleasing their every need, indulging their every criticism leaves them always wanting more, opening the question why does the majority at the first sight of trouble disregard your accomplishments and good deeds and latches on to your flaws?

It is in our human nature, to please if not everyone, then at least the people we love. But where do we draw the line? After how many good things done does our desire to be good to those we love, turns in an endless struggle of no conviction? When do we admit to ourselves that we are fighting windmills, just pushing the heavy boulder up a steep hill, only for it to roll us over?

I wonder what’s the point

Yea, I know 3th post in 3 days, what? Is it possible I became consistent? Perhaps, as I threw all out of my life that distracted me, I am now more then ever focused on my work. And I admit, I have not done it on my own, as it was blatantly pointed out that I sorely needed the change. I accept a critique, be it from the work I do or the life that I try to un mess ( is that even a word?), be it as it is I try not to be a fool any longer and I accept perhaps there are things I know less about or things my eyes simply don’t see. So when someone near and dear to me suggested that I get rid of all distractions to get down on my work, I listened. But then I noticed a curious thing. The more you listen to people, the more you try to please them, you quickly see there is no end to their requests. One thing leads to another, you find yourself doing a Sisyphous task, where no matter how much you do, they always find flaws in your efforts. And I am fine with the occasional pointing out of the mistakes I do, but when it becomes constant, and it’s not just the mistakes that are being pointed out but your endeavours, your efforts, by people who do less then you, by people who sit idly by as life passes them, you begin to wonder, to who do you listen to? Who are you trying to please, as with each and every thing you do, the only thing you begin to feel inside is the feeling of your own self worth decreasing.

And I wonder now. To whom is my inner peace, my self satisfaction and self progress worth more, to those who apparently claim they know something I don’t, or to myself?

After all the mistakes done, I try to live by only one rule. Don’t be an asshole. As an old friend of mine said, there are many people in this world. To be an asshole is the easiest thing in it, but to be a gentleman, that takes effort. So put some in your life.

And since I try to live by that, I try not to be so cynical all the time, I try to give people a chance. But what I found, at least in my surroundings, is that all people do is talk. There is always a speech, there is always a cautionary tale of their life, with the moral story to not make the same mistakes they did and that’s it. With all that talk you would think that they would listen to their own advice. Some do, I can’t deny that. But look at the majority and you shall see, as if they think that talk is enough and it exempts them from following their own words.

As an old friend of mine said, there are many people in this world. To be an asshole is the easiest thing in it, but to be a gentleman, that takes effort. So put some in your life.

The trick is your surroundings

And that’s true. My misfortune is I surrounded myself with those kind of people who just sit and observe your mistakes, never minding their own. You wanna know the trick for a happy life? Surround yourself with friends, people you can call brothers and sisters, who will push you, not pull you down. People who would dare to tell you the harshest of words when you really need to hear them, but who will as well motivate you to push against all odds. We have two families. One we are born in, which we don’t chose and have no say so over it. And the one we create ourselves. We can choose who we surround ourselves with, so even if you are in a toxic environment, don’t be afraid to leave it. Your own self worth and life depends on it, trust me.

It makes all the difference in your life, in your work, in your happiness. Who are we to sacrifice that, our own happiness for the judgement of people who do less then us and yet demand more?

Good friends are worth their weight in gold. We can choose to be alone. But solitude is addictive, once you experience the sweet silence, it can pull you in as nothing will ever feel the same. Same as it is our choice to stay with people who undermine us, people who claim our potential is low and that we can’t do anything but fail. So if life is a struggle, why not fight to find those who will shine the light in our life so when we return the favour, it won’t feel like we are doing less for nothing?

We have two families. One we are born in, which we don’t chose and have no say so over it. And the one we create ourselves.

Your worth is always higher

What are we afraid off? Is it the eternal fear that if we shoot high the fall will be greater? But isn’t the truth that the fall is inevitable? We all fall eventually, so why are we afraid of something that is bound to come? Why not if it’s already destined to happen, what costs us more to try harder, to push more to see us greater then the rest of the world does? Maybe, just maybe, we will succeed and isn’t that worth it? That small chance, that slim percentage of success is worth the struggle. Because, the world will always try to undermine you, they will always try to sell your worth as less then it already is, so who are we going to listen? As the eternal question ponders, why is it easier to undermine then understand?

Maybe, just maybe, we will succeed and isn’t that worth it? That small chance, that slim percentage of success is worth the struggle.

The parting words

It’s been eventful, these past few months, to put it lightly. With all that’s happened I try to find solitude and salvation in my writing and it helps. I thank you all, you beautiful people, on the kind words of comfort, on the inspiring thoughts of motivation. It really means the world to me, knowing that the words I write are not sent to the endless void as there are some who still hear it. So what’s next? I’ll try to be consistent, if not every day, then almost. As I am editing my third book and the second is on its way, I couldn’t be more proud of the effort that bears fruit. I am glad to see that even with bad tongues telling me it was useless, that I can prove them wrong. So don’t give up. Know your worth. Know your purpose. And always strive for better things, as you deserve them. Love to you all and until next time,
Harry.

If you want to check out my upcoming book that is available for preorder here is the link: https://www.5310publishing.com/book/thelonesomeroad

Broken crown of sins

Solid thoughts and heart of might

My mind is free but not tonight

Running rapid, on its course,

I battle with my pain and remorse.

Unity of body and soul,

My heart seeks what it can’t hold,

Peace of inner self,

I try to grasp it but without revel,

I cry my soul in vain.

I watch the tears run by,

Holding back my heart’s cry,

To show it what it means,

To live by the wishes of the dreams.

Even if its out of reach,

Even if the will of dark may my mind breach,

I can not stop, I can not give up,

My will in shambles must not drop,

From the crumbling mind,

Broken crown that stands,

A title of sinner,

Mere mistakes of a beginner.











In the way of the world

A shallow soul stands,
On a principle of time,
Burden by the thoughts of other minds,
It weights and lingers,
The opportunity of the path.

Stray and the crack of time might lash,
Cutting a deep lane in your heart,
Scar, unsealed and broken,
That burns until it washes the last light.

Stand still, wait and listen,
Time,
The unrelenting River that shatters the shores of the world,
And it shall pass you by,
The lone raft in the sea of many.

Guided by fear, broken from the possibility,
It is in our vile human nature to flee from responsibility,
But the river flows,
Awaits no man,
So rather to watch and wither,
Drown yourself in the opportunity that lays bellow.











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.

Absence of Id

In that moment
Just slips away,
Like a string pulled
By the wind
A song that I tried
Hard to seal in my head.

To what it was once,
Now I do not know,
As my head stays empty.
All I feel is the space in between,
An empty chasm of sorrow.

But why it left,
I can not say,
Perhaps to bright some else’ day,
But now left alone,
Without my friend,
Wondering how to rise again.

POW: Is fear the great motivator?

Hello, it’s me. I swear there is a meme opportunity hidden somewhere around here. Well, perhaps for an another time. Anyway, I am still pretty much alive, even if I feel far from it (really far from it) and I am trying my best to keep the site at least alive. I gave my best shot to keep at least this segment on a tight weekly schedule, but with work every damn day and the blasted heat I think I can be forgiven, at least a bit. But I promise you I am still hard at work on my writing stuff behind the scenes, even if I now occasionally pop by Twitter and say hi, I assure you the new book is being written and the old one edited. Let just say I had my best intentions and even a clean plan to make content weekly for the Word Den, but the limit of the human body kept me in place as it seems so easy to pass out every night when I come back. So at least I think I owe one POW even if I don’t have a recurring theme to talk about. Kinda planned POW to be constructed like that, think of it as an episode of the Simpsons, it starts with one event that somehow leads to a whole another one that becomes the theme of the episode. Jesus, I really must be done and dusted if I am starting to compare this to a cartoon. Well, be it that I am reaching the limit of the human body and the soreness of the muscles is slowly making its way to my brain or the lack of rest and sleep fuled my insanity even further and I am really beyond saving. But enough of rambling let’s do this!

Fear itself

I said perhaps now more then a dozen times I wanted to not just use this segment as an opportunity to connect, but to try and share, become more personal, not just as a writer but as a human being in general. So for this rare appearance on the site, I want to talk about fear. They say fear is the great motivator. Who the fuck even thought of that? Yea perhaps when you are trapped in a death binding situation where all is down to fight or flight, but how can fear be the great motivator if it is occurring in more then just a moment? What happens when it fills the entirety of our days, when it sleeps and wakes up, spending every waking hour next to our already near broken husks who really don’t need any more motivation to slow or completely shut down? Fear ain’t the great motivator it is the greatest set back in life that like a bully, you let it push you far enough, it shall never stop kicking you around. And lately it doesn’t let me stand up. I know it is the product of my mind, the depression followed now with constant anxiety where I fear even the sound of the passing car on the street, but combine it with work everyday which doesn’t just take a toll on you physically but mentally, you end up getting a jumpy depressed lad who is scared of his own shadow.

I can’t make excuses. I won’t. I am aware of my absence from the site and from twitter and Instagram and what not (follow me there, shameless plug), but I assign that level of absence on the crushing work schedule I have. Believe me when I say and I do not exaggerate, I come every night from a 10 hour shift just to pass out on the sofa, waking up just few hours away from my shift. But I reckon this unhealthy life style will last for maybe few weeks, till the end of the month tops. But faced with that kind of life I am living right now, barely eating one meal a day, combined with the anxiety and paranoia I feel, it makes things even harder. Concentration is gone, motivation withering and the only thing that I have left to fight it is to essentially forget about it. Forget that fear, just leave your mind blank. And that my friends is dangerous. Why? Simply because, if you manage somehow to leave your mind empty, not think about the things that break your mind and pull your soul down, sooner or later you are going to find yourself in a moment of peace, alone, where everything you managed to forget till then, that day comes crushing down on you. All of those bad emotions that you avoided hitting you simultaneously. And that leaves you down, without any hope of pulling yourself up. Fear is not the great motivator. Fear is the absence of hope that keeps us locked in a very dark corner of our mind. All we can do is push through it, in hope tomorrow will be better then yesterday.

The harder the life…

It says something about us writers. We need to be in a place of creativity, in a good feeling or even bad to suck that motivation to put those words down. I bet lot of you like me used those melancholic days as tool to write something that really needed to sound so bleak in the first place. But what happens when motivation is outclassed by other factors. Time, fear, anxiety, imposter syndrome and what not we face that prevents us to even write a single word? Motivation is the key in this line of work. I believe it is not being the best that will make you a great writer. It is purely hunger, wanting to do it, to do more, that divides the greats from the rest of us. Sheer and pure willpower is the key factor that is required to reach the upper level. Sometimes it is hard to keep that hunger. Other factors wave in, trying to persuade you to take it down a notch. And for the few months, especially after my work got too much to handle even for my writing and editing, I can’t stop thinking should I do it? Take a leap of faith, quit that job and pursue the thing I am passionate about? Don’t get me wrong. I have been working since I was 17. Worked quite some shitty jobs for even worse bosses, so I am no stranger to working like 14 hours shifts with no day off for months. But this, writing, is something I know I am good at, or at least that I have the ability to offer something to this community, to the readers,  something of value. I guess after you make so many mistakes in life, on a personal level and business, one really gets to know himself. But then again stands the question we all asks ourselves at some point. Is it worth it? Will my leap of faith be survived? Or shall I just go plummeting down in the ground?

Last few words of wisdom

I leave you with this. You know. Deep down in yourself you do know. Same as depression or anything that wavers heavy on your heart, you can talk to so many people, even professionals, but it’s you who knows the size of your strength to go through it. Same as this. Just, from my experience, nothing is worth doing quickly and over night. Be ready for that. Change won’t come tomorrow, it needs to be in the making for a while. So even if fear bothers you, even if life is uncertain, stop. Breathe. We came this far, right? Night will go down, the sun will rise and we will still be here. And tomorrow is a new opportunity to try again. Won’t say till next week, but hopefully so,

Harry.

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.

POW: Life will sort itself out

What is it with the world and it’s undying compulsion to tell us what we are going to be? What are they to gain, those who shatter other peoples hope, dreams and aspirations? You are never going to amount for something,  you are  never going to be anything… Your amount won’t ever be worth something… My personal favourite. There is this person I know, who said, people enjoy other peoples suffering, as it is success that bothers them. So they scheme, gossip and turn on one another just so they can enjoy in other misery. And that is true. But why is it that no matter how hard we try not to give a fuck we always let others get to our hearts? Perhaps it is the universal flaw of humanity, that no matter what we want to be appreciated, respected, that no matter what we care…

Art of absence

I have been away for a while and for that I apologise, to whole six of you who actually enjoy reading my random and weird thoughts. It has been tough lately. You know how I said the few previous times it is hard for me to connect to others, especially on social media, the writers “must have” tool? Now with all going on, not even finding the time to open twitter, I find myself stunned, looking at the empty status, trying to figure out what funny words I can spew out. What am I suppose to say? What do people like me who do not have in a hindsight an interesting life, or a life at all, what do we say? But I digress. And I am well aware that there are more then six of you, thank you for that. It is a one year anniversary of the site. Yeay! Happy birthday Word Den. True, I haven’t committed fully to the site last year, but few months ago all changed. I am trying, learning and failing, but that’s what life is about. It’s a process. Hard. Unforgiving. Process. But hey, at least we can make the most of it since we are in for a ride, unvoluntarily I may add. I know this week is short considering the content promised, but I did had a good reason. First like I said last time now I am working every day for 10 hours (minimum) so it is hard for now to keep my mind focused. But even with a tight schedule I managed to pull the now weekly POW (oh yea!) and at least two poems. But I deserve a break, right? The other reason some of you might had guessed is the resurgence of my depression, but not to worry… I am curing it right now! As this week’s POW is posted I am right now with my mates, meat on the bbq and a free tap of beer running. It helps. And I have a confession to make. Where usually I would be my normal depressing self, it got me thinking about hope and goodness of life.

Life is a bitch?

Life has a tendency to sort itself out. Things do fall into places where they are supposed to be. Just takes time. The key is to survive until they do. Hard, I know. But then again, while I am reminiscing about some better times, when my mates were still here in one place, not scattered around the world where we are now forced to a yearly meet up, I kept on thinking how the stress and nervousness is unnecessary. Sure, it is in human nature to worry. But to what extent? If I worry about being hit by a car so much so, will I even cross the street? Sometimes all it takes is a leap of faith, a moment of self belief, that maybe, just maybe, things will work out for the better. We stress how we will come on to new people, what if we stay alone or what if our hard work was all for nothing? But thinking about the 14th step, we will be too afraid to even make the first one. Spinning the movie in our head to what might happen, we tend to forget what can happen. Makes sense? I hope so, bear in mind I am quite drunk. Like I said yearly meet up so we do have try out bbq night before the main event. My point is, for the entirety of my life I have tried, sometimes hard and often times giving up before even really giving a shot, applying for jobs that were way above me to jobs a monkey could do. That made the heartache bigger when I didn’t get any. My friends moved on, met new people and fell in love, while I stayed behind lingering in my darkness, drifting further away by doing stupid shit. But for the last year or so, I stopped thinking about the 14th step and kept on my focus on the first. And things are moving. Looking better? I dare to say so. Next year I will be a published author. (Stay tuned!) An achievement I am immensely grateful for, one I don’t take for granted, but one I will try to build on. For the first time in my life I feel like I know what I want. For the first time I feel like I am not pushed by anything or anyone to be something I am not. For the first time now, I am making my own damn path, my road of redemption, to be something I always was, but never admitted to myself I can become. A storyteller…

For better or for worse

Eh, it is a long road. Somehow I dropped out of college because I thought I couldn’t learn or was too stupid to make it. But now I am in a profession that teaches you something every day, where to make it you must want it and commit. Knowing something you want to do, something you want to be is only part of the journey. But damn it, it is a big part to play. Hey, who would had thought one POW where things ain’t so dark after all, you can practically smell the hope oozing out of the site now! But all jokes aside, we are the ones who make our journey, the ones who walk it and the ones who reap the benefits and the wrongs of it, along with blood, sweat and sacrifice that we spend on it. So don’t let anyone tell you how to live your life. They might assume, they always will because we are creatures of chaos and jealousy, we humans, but they will never know the struggles you face. It is your life, your responsibility and your future. Your hope.

Raising a pint to all your good health and may your dreams come true fellow warriors,

A reasonably drunk Harry.

POW: The unexpected life

I honestly don’t know how some of you manage to balance things! With day jobs, personal life and what not, I get it there is still time to write and do your thing, but is there a scenario where I don’t lose my sanity? Is it just just me or do you as well when you got at a certain point in writing, start to hate your day job (or hating more in my case) where you just want to get through the day and hurry home to write? They say the best ideas come when you are sitting on a toilet seat (or so I heard) but in my case they come when I am at work, I hurry up to hide from my boss so I can quickly open the notepad app and write a thing before my mind goes completely blank.

How life twists

It is strange to look back to where we were few years back and compare it to now. Sure we all made our fare share of mistakes, nudged a few inches of our path going astray, but man, for better or for worse, did any one of us think we would end up doing or pursuing things we are right now? Even in my busy schedule I managed to take some old trash from my room and while getting some boxes away I found a piece of paper. Must have been tucked away for years, probably written while I was still in high-school and on it, a blurb. Years ago, I remember writing stories on paper, old school by hand and this was one of those fragments of my past. The blurb of course was incomplete and messy, but the story itself not half bad. I must admit, lately I have fallen on some hard times, doubting myself if I can even do this, balancing work which now I have 10 hours of daily without a day off and just in general fighting depression. But seeing what young Harry wrote gave me hope. I sat on the floor, griping that old piece of paper and just laughing, almost even bursting into tears. It gave me joy, understanding, that even before I had dreams, aspirations. That was my ammo to fight back the depression that keeps on asking, questioning my ability of doing this, with the words “Are you even good?” constantly ringing in my ears. What I learned so far is that life has a sense of humor, a sense of irony particularly. I am constantly pressed down by my mistakes and everyone with mental illness will know it’s a battle each day. Even when you win (and you don’t always win) the pain is still there, the burden never goes away. I don’t like to speak about it, yet I made a promise to myself that I will get more personal. This became a therapy of sorts for me. Is it working? Perhaps, but like I said each day is a battle.

Am I alone out there?

Don’t worry won’t speak again about how when we fight our own demons we often tend to think we are alone in this fight, which it doesn’t have to be the case. No… As I was watching that piece of paper I remember fondly about the stories I created in my mind, my vast imagination running free and unshackled. By that time I thought how hard would be to write a book and I did try but never had the proper motivation. I remember when I was 11 I was at my old potato of a PC trying to write each day. Damn, if anyone told me back then how competitive this all is and how writing a book and pouring your soul into it is not even 50% of the whole process, who knows if I would write the first one. I remember how alone I was back then and how alone do I feel now. Perhaps that’s why it gets to me, when I post something here or on twitter and I get no response, perhaps that’s what makes the question of am I really even good louder… But perhaps it’s not just me. Perhaps there are more of you, who fight with the same questions I do as well. Well, I admire you, knowing what toll it takes on a human body, soul and mind, as the heart begins to break, bit by bit. But presented with a choice of that question, what are we to do? To just give up after our heart literary went in our work? No, of course not. We do the only thing we can, the only thing we know how to do. We bite our teeth, pushing forward. Because we know what’s behind, waiting for us. And everything, even the risk of a heartache, is better than that.

The attitude of a loser

To my firends I seem overconfident because I say I will make it, I will be big. The truth is, it’s not my ego speaking but my pain. For years I tried to be more than no one, applying for countless jobs I can find and failing just because I wanted a career, a meaning. Like all of us I strive for meaning. I was told I won’t be anyone, I will die alone somewhere in a ditch. That’s the reason of my confidence. Its not a fake one, no. After I applied for jobs as all of my firends finished uni or had great careers even if I got to the next round of interviews and was close to getting it, it was the pain of telling them over and over again “Oh I didn’t get it…” that killed me. One by one I saw it in their eyes the same words many people spoke to me over the years. You won’t be anyone. You won’t matter. Perhaps it is the fear of those words, that I never won’t forget, that planted the seed for my depression. But perhaps those words, which will always follow me, are what make me say “Always forward!”

Still keeping up with it,

Harry.

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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