I was holding a cup of coffee when I heard her spitting curses from the other room. She was sitting in front of the mirror when I came in, her face buried on a Sylvia Plath. “What happened?” I asked.

She looked at me from her reflection with an expression I couldn’t read, “I’m happy.”

This girl is insane. I try to read her mind but fail. Like I always do.

“It’s too much,” she plainly stated as she flipped through the pages of The Bell Jar. “I keep reading these lines but nothing’s working.”

She has always been fascinated with sad stories and sad songs and everything that has to do with sadness. “What is wrong with being happy?” I asked.

She walked right to me, tiptoed and gave me a kiss. “Nothing, of course. But art doesn’t work that way. I need coffee. And a little bit of pain.”

It has been a long while blogosphere!! I miss you badly. 😭

I can never say I’ve been out for the reason that life was giving me a hard time because, truth is, I was kicking life in the butt. The past months have been nothing but blessings. And while happiness is not a bad thing, I find it hard to get back into writing. For years my muse fed on sadness and the creatures in the dark. How am supposed to handle this too much joy? Please wait for me. 🍃❤️📝