Category Archives: Uncategorized

R………ead On!!!

Set a thief to catch a thief

Once bitten twice shy

Go to school and be a good girl

Join facebook and become a villain

Purple and red actually go together

Turn all the black grey then white

Windows Media Player battery:



Randomness should be a godsend gift

Words I love to hear


Random poetry that feels so random

A feeling, a state, a way of life that’s

random –

Of random, for random, by random

The coming to being of something

Unexpected, almost



I like, I loathe, I hate, I love

You despise, she adores,

We all feel something

However, I question



Emotions – if they come

As hard – and fast

In flow – rate out

Found – without loss

Random –

like my thoughts.


CTS 14.04.2010


Wh… What?

I know that the problem I am having and facing currently can only be solved by God. And yet, I cannot bring myself to ask for his help. Because I feel like He had a role to make sure I do not end up in this place, and he let me down. Because, why did he allow the many unfortunate situations that led up to me being in this place to happen? Because, why do I always end up in the same place? A place I do not want to be in, over and over? A place that is more than just raw emotion, where my cognition is twisted and the morbid and bizarre become cool to me, and I suddenly want to be engulfed in darkness? A place where the only people that can get to me in are Sheeran and 30STM and P!NK and Creed and the Script?

I do believe, I believe that Jesus is Lord, that he has authority over everything, and that he is coming back. I do wait in joyous anticipation (at least when I can afford it) for that day, maybe more so because every tear will be dried and I won’t have to feel like this, and I will rejoice in my Father. Oh yes, how I do wait for that day. But now, I feel like I do not even believe. Like that man in the Bible said to Jesus, “Lord, I believe, help my unbelief.” His child had been plagued by an evil spirit for long, and he believed that Jesus could cast it out… but he needed his unbelief helped. Isn’t that the situation my funks land me in all the time? And how does the Lord come through for me in such? I honestly feel like I have to be a certain way, to think in a certain way, to be helped. But that also feels like I actually am saving myself, only giving God the ‘glory’, so to speak. Like, yes, I followed religion, read  my Bible daily regardless of what I feel, prayed to my ceiling, and that the following of practices and norms and rituals got me to a place where I feel sufficiently happy with myself, and so I end up thinking that God has indeed saved me from my funky episode. On and on, until the next episode, which will then have me wondering whether or not really God had any role to play in this.

You see, this is my dilemma. I do not feel as though God can relate with me in this place that I am in right now. Yet, I also cannot let go, because, like Peter said, “To whom shall we go Lord, you have the words of eternal life.” So what does a tree that is not sure of its absorption of the living waters go to next? Where does the hungry man that does not see where the bread of life is go? And how does the 98th sheep explain to the rest of the flock why it is always feeling lost, despite the good pasture and watering holes and security it has always received, that it is lost despite not taking any of these for granted? Even though it has never gotten to sheep 100’s level of lost, although maybe that is what is needed, for the shepherd to go out and get it in a way that shows it is the one that was being deliberately looked for? That if, indeed, Jesus is the answer to everything, and his joy is the strength of our lives, then where does the Christian battling depression, anxiety, personality disorders – where does this person go, without sounding like a heretic? How does this person express their lostness, their dismal outlook, their raw, unedited emotion, without uttering a blasphemy? How does such a person stare into the deep, unending abyss, contemplate a state of non-existence, and still somehow fit in the flock? How does such a person, with self-inflicted cuts and bruises, and dead afraid of social interactions, distance themselves from others – blatantly disobeying the exhortation to not give up meeting together, and still be okay? How does a person like this, who is always encouraged to ‘pray it away’, pray? Or to ‘meditate on the Word’, when their mind is stuck in a state of rumination, think of scripture? When all the other well-meaning sheep encourage them to ‘find their comfort in the Lord, for his yoke is easy and his burden light’, yet they’ve been yoked for so long, so heavily, that they are one with the yoke? That they are the burden, at least in their sight? How does such a person ‘die to self’, when they cannot even find the self to kill? When the good book assures them that ‘they died, and their lives are now hidden with Christ in God’… how do they know that this is for certain, for real, when they feel like all they did is die, and that all that surrounds them is dark, black oblivion? How do you trust when you have been consumed with despair? Where do you begin to find hope, when all you are wallowing in is defeat and helplessness?

Her Best Friend


Cold on the outside…

Cold on the inside,

As well…


She placed her palm on the window

And watched the raindrops,

Trickling down,

Forming mini streams,

Collecting at the base

On the other side of the windowbox.


The beauty was amazing

Yet she felt…

Empty, alone, dejected…

She thought she’d shed enough tears,

She wished her reservoir would run dry


There was always more,

For every day,

Every situation,

Every little thing –

Or lack thereof…

She thought it was weak,

Pathetic, even.

But every time she was

Among people, her friends even,

She felt it acutely.


She’d never match up

She’d never amount to anything.

They were all so accomplished,

So achieved, driven…

She was surely just a shadow,

A gnat in their sight.

So she shrunk back

And withheld…


A little mouse

Watching life from a little hole

In the wall – her hideout

Wondering if, when

She’d break out of her little shell…


Taking a stroll out in the rain

Hoping it would hide her tears…

Hooded to inrecognition.

She bumped into a wall,

A wall of a person.

He promised to be solid ground,

To be there for her…

To hide her tears, at first

Then dry the reservoir later…

By and by, as time passed

She could raise her head,

Look crowds in the face,

Feel like someone

Without caring what someone else thought…

He taught her independence,

Took her by the hand.

Into sunny meadows he led,

Taught her to be happy,

Taught her to live.



It was cold outside again…

She sat at her windowbox

Looking at the raindrops


On the inside,

This time around

Was the warmth that came

With the satisfaction of knowing

She had a best friend.

Sat, Nov. 6, 2010


Hey people!

Yes, it has been a while, buuuut, I am now done with what has probably been the craziest exam period of my entire life… And I’m still alive! Ha! God is great!

So, news item number two, and the reason for this post…. I have a new site! It’s still here on wordpress, and ehh… I created it because I felt like it would be weird to put everything together over here and have sijui tabs and stuff (or it could be because I don’t know how to, or because of my OCD categorizing things….) but it will mostly have insights on life, spiritual things, you know? And then this one will have arts – written, crafts, hair, the non-serious things. This makes a lot of sense to me, by the way… Plus, I had another blog, but it was under a different user, and so I don’t want to keep signing in and out to post here and there, so that content moves to seshthinks (that’s the new site) 🙂

So yes, both sites will be active :). Double joy! And… (I just forgot what I was going to write there). But catch me on 🙂

See ya!

Over the Edge

This post will most definitely be weird. It was inspired by (and quite frankly, WAS written by) Cristian Mihai, and even he begins by saying that the post may not sit very well with many people. Cowritten by all the people who commented on it, from whom I have taken excerpts. It tackles the darker aspects, the bottomless abyss, whatever you want to call it, but the post itself is about his battle with (what I think is) depression, and what he learnt from it. I wanted to reblog it, but that wouldn’t reflect exactly what I got from the post and the comments, because I know many peple don’t read comments. How? Because several people that found me reading that post asked me what in heaven’s name I was doing reading the comments. But anyway, here’s what I carried away from Cristian Mihai’s post, OVER THE EDGE, October 2014 on his blog/website… (I really should learn how to do that linking thingie… bear with me meanwhile)
P.S. These are really just excerpts, I would suggest you read the post for the whole picture, lest you draw conclusions that have no basis… 
Cristian: Freedom comes from the realization that you can kill yourself anytime. It’s a special kind of freedom, one you’ll never taste again… You can see that your life is your own, that you’re exactly as free as you want to be.
Frankregan17: Sitting out on the ledge or staring down into the abyss – it is amazing how comfortable it can be and how damn hard it can be to get up and do something; anything!
Repeoples: Sometimes I feel like a mime trying to get out of an invisible box.
Ida N.: I stare at the same abyss daily, and kind of like you said, I feel I can live a more fulfilling life knowing I have chosen not to fall in.
Alexander: A person can be dead long before they pull the trigger… Your life is a beautiful thing and to bring the story of your life to an end in one final, abrupt chapter would truly be a tragedy. To persist in hardship, against all odds, is part of the human condition and your ability to stare total defeat in the face and stand right back up is not a testament to your failures but rather an assurance of the strength of your own personal character, if you continue ‘trying’, luck will exit the equation entirely as your efforts will surely provide fruitful rewards. If ever you find yourself staring back down into the omnipresent abyss: simply reach out and there will be others willing to sacrifice their own internal flames to keep yours alight for that much longer – and you can count me among their ranks.
Jerry Hall (Jerry’s mother said): If you don’t have dreams, you will die.
Plainandsimpleempress: Pessimists are far happier people than optimists are. We are never disappointed, and sometimes we are pleasantly surprised.
Steve Perrin: Once you plunge into the void, you cannot change your mind. Pulling back, you can always reconsider.
Endlesssojourns: I came. I read. I understood. Had my own edge and abyss. What fascinates me is how did we reach this abyss. Why us. Why not others. How some have moved on while others stay forever at the edge. And why some take the leap.
Susan: I laughed. I cried. Yes, I have looked into the abyss too. Thank you for the hope you shared.
Shantisram (shantisram’s lecturer said): Every situation is one we can learn from, it’s just that some come with more pain than others.
X (a band, someone posted these lyrics of theirs): “This must be hell, she thought, as rain began to fall, To have everything you want, and hate it all.”
Blackbird: The curious thing about hope is that it gets stronger as things get worse… Lift your eyes up to the dawn and keep fighting.
And the last line that Cristian put in that post, after sharing his lessons from that period of 3 years of sitting at the edge and staring into the abyss, trying to see the bottom, is this: “What you take from it, if anything at all, is not my concern.” He wrote because he had to write, because it was his way of coping, his wayof dealing… HIS.

Grieving Stages

They say that the opposite of love isn’t hate, because when you hate someone, you still care. The opposite, apparently, is indifference. Because then, the object of your indifference could run out in front of a train, and possibly the only reason you would have to get upset is that you didn’t think their death to be painful enough, bad enough, worthy enough, to pay back what it is you went through.

I have spent enough time convincing myself that I am indifferent, that I can be indifferent. But when times of reckoning come, and I am reminded of something, something small, something silly, something private… I seethe with rage. I seethe with rage at what has been, what was ruined, what could have been. I get consumed with anger, and suddenly, that train sounds very mild. Oh, if only worse things could happen… And no, you have no right to judge me. Because it is my right to grieve, and anger is one of the stages of mourning. So let me mourn, let me do it in peace, let me speak it out….

This Wonderful Place

The small things are the ones that matter the most in life. Sitting at the table with grandma, discovering that your momma got her feet and hands and body from her, seeing, for the first time, the stark similarities. Realizing that all you got from your momma, you got from your grandma, and thanking God, because your grandma is as wonderful as they come. Apart from that stubborn streak that you see in her that you see in your momma and in yourself, that one that your boyfriend cannot stand, and you cannot help.
Going exploring in the hills with your cousins, eating wild fruits that none of your friends know. Heck, even you don’t know their English names! They are bitter, they are sweet, they have acquired taste. Watching little Shannon discover a butterfly and chase after it, squealing with delight. Or when she shows the boys a pretty white flower they care nothing about. Or listening to the boys regaling their tales of rabbit hunting, or watching the dogs chase after lizards.
Even the fantastic view of freshly tilled farms stretching on for miles and miles, and the homesteads with their tin roofs and banana trees interspersed amongst them. The forest afar, the looming heights of the trees diminished by the fact that you’re all the way up here, on a rock, eating half-ripe guavas with not a care in the world. Here I can be….. Here I am free. Free to imagine anything, free to be me.
The wind blows by, and the leaves sing a harmony. There’s hyena poop in selected areas, there’s thick, soft mossy grass covering the rocks, and there’s actual moss. There’s some people herding their flock, there’s children on the trees, others are shimmying down the steep rock faces. The air is fresh and clean, the sunsets wonderfully orange, just like the colour of Melissa’s pants.
Here I can live, here, i can thrive.

Welcome to Salternative!

Hey there! I’m alias254, and salternative is my new blog. I have another under a different name, and this one… Well, it’s basically just a channel for me to express myself… to share my musings with whoever spares the time to read, no strings attached. It’s basically just a commentary on my daily day-to-days, so yeah…. Thanks for stopping by! Here’s to, hopefully, good days! 🙂