Some time ago Suze nominated me for Liebster Award. I don`t do awards, but I like many of the questions I`m asked so I thought I`d do it as a “get-to-know-me-better” post. 🙂 Thanks to Suze, by the way. I really appreciate it. Nice to know someone out there finds my blog amazing and worthy of praise.


Where do you get your ideas?

From life, people and dreams. I`m so glad my mind is not see through.

What is your writing process like?

Haha, so ..I dream. And then I really mean a lot. To me, they`re inspiration. I write a lot for myself which I don`t share with anyone. It depends on what I`m writing, but mostly I prefer to just write. It`s a little harder when I write by hand as I want it to be written neatly. I let my mind drift away and write everything down without any filters. I think that if you keep going back and checking what you write, it`s easy to get stuck. Grasp the things around you with silence and try to make something out of them by words.

Do you think someone could be a writer if they don’t feel emotions strongly?

Of course. Not everybody feels emotions so strongly, but that doesn`t mean they don`t have anything they`d like to share.

What one thing would you give up to become a better writer?

The voice inside my head which isn`t fearless and tells me to stop.

What is your favorite childhood book?

You mean my favourite book of all times? The diary of Anne Frank. Never gets old for me and never will either.

How does your writing relate to your spiritual practice or other life path?

I consider myself a Muslim, but I seperate that from my writing. For me, writing is more about emotions.

What inspires you?

I inspire myself. Apart from that life does. If I was to mention a person that`s inspired me for years and keeps inspiring me, it`s Anne Frank.

Describe yourself as if someone is interviewing you.

I find such questions so hard, even though I`m supposed to talk about myself and that should perhaps be an easy task but I`m always like “where do I even begin?”. And doesn`t it depend on who`s interviewing you? Not sure I would say this if we`re talking about a job interview, but I`ll just write down what I`ve written on my “about me” page:

I`m a passionate girl, with a lot of hopes and dreams. I used to be a thinker, now I`m an over-thinker. I`m a dreamer. I dream a lot, doesn`t matter if it`s day or night. I`m a writer. I`m a daughter. I`m vulnerable. Kind. Strong. Weak. Mature. Immature. Visible. Invisible. Fragile. Beautiful. Mess.

Most of all I`m an old soul in a young body.

Where do you see yourself in ten years?

Oh, God… I don`t know. I hope I`m an author by then and that I`m happy with what my life`s like at that time.

What was the worst book you ever read, or stopped reading?

I don`t really have a “worst book I`ve ever read”. Sure, there have been books that I didn`t like that much but I usually try to finish them because I`d like to believe you can learn something from everything.



“What will people say”

we`ve all heard this.

some of us more than others.

it kills dreams.

it stops hearts from beating.

it applauds shame and overthinking.

that one sentence makes you want to scream

but you keep the pain to yourself.

because “what will people say”.

it weakens your bones.

it mutes voices.

it puts bodies in cages

and you scream so loud but nobody hears a thing

because “what will people say”.

but let me ask you

what will people not say.

Bilderesultat for woman photography





She was one of those “bad girls” or whatever they call them

because she chose the blue jeans and not the pink dress.

Because her skirt was too short.

Because she spoke too loudly and insisted on taking a lot of space.

Because her opinions were too many.

Because she didn`t fit perfectly into the box the society had picked out for her.

But people forgot that

even “bad girls” have hearts to take care of.


written by me & photo from here  


“You`re going to create a blog and you can decide what you`re going to name it.”

I was 17 and still in high-school. It was time for International English, which was a course I was doing during my last year of high-school. For one of our assignments, we were asked to start a blog. We were supposed to blog once a week, which was pretty much nothing to me. I was little when I started enjoying the gift God had given to me – the ability to write and create whatever I wanted to, through words.

“You can blog about pretty much anything you want to.

I had no idea what to name my blog. Nothing seemed good enough, because I wanted everything and nothing in the name. It had to reflect me, reflect what my blog was going to be about.

“But once a month your post should be about a specific topic we will discuss in class.”

Easy peasy. I just needed to find a proper blog name and get started.

“Do you need any help?”

I told the teacher I`m only struggling with finding a good enough name, but otherwise I was doing good. After a lot of thinking, I typed “namingmyvoice.wordpress.com”.

Less than two months later, I started writing personal posts. Some of them were full of feelings and reflections. I was exhuasted. I had enough.

“I`ll proove you all wrong. One day.”

I had just written a post about my situation at school. Once again I was feeling too much. Maybe I should of have expressed myself differently, but it was what it was.

“I have read this blog entry several times and I still do not know what to say…”

My teacher didn`t know what to say. Maybe that was a good thing.

I liked the attention. At least someone heard me. At least someone said nice things about me.

I kept writing posts about things that meant something to me. Elections, the beauty pressure in the society, bullying, loneliness – the blog quickly became a space where I could write down what I wanted to. It was my space. It was a world I could paint blue, pink or black and the decision was entirely mine. I could be creative and create a space on the internet which was mine.

While at school? I wasn`t heard, nor was I really noticed. People kept talking, I missed actions. A message to the principle didn`t take me that far.

You could say the pen became my weapon.

I sent the message I had sent to the principle to the newspaper. For the first time I was that much noticed. Likes, shares, comments. People said nice things about me. I was brave, I was fantastic, I was something. Reading the comments made me so happy.

I had always had a voice, but perhaps that was the first time I was actually able to name it.


When I made this blog, I was 17. I can`t remember what exactly I had in mind when I picked the name for this blog, but now it means more to me than it did then.

I guess I`ve always wanted to have a voice. My own voice. I`ve always wanted to create something and be heard through that. For many years I felt like nobody could actually hear me.

My voice was a voice only I could hear.

Bullying made me feel lonely, being lonely made me feel lonely and having to go through these things made it hard for me. Many times I felt like my voice didn`t matter, because some people around me made it seem like that was the case. If I explained how I felt or thought about something, I was sometimes told I was wrong. It didn`t really matter. I wanted to be heard, to be noticed and to be understood.

I wanted people to see me, not only look at me.

I feel like I`ve sort of achieved that with my blog. There`s a reason I decided to keep it, even after the assignment was over and we were told we didn`t really have to blog anymore. I wanted to, because I enjoyed it. I enjoyed writing and I liked having a voice. I liked having the opportunity to have my own space and share what I want to.

So here I am now, more than two years later. I`m 20, still growing up and getting to know life every single day. I`ve written a lot since I started this blog, which I`m proud about. I`m proud that I`ve kept writing, despite some comments I`ve received here and there. I`m glad I`ve kept naming my voice, because you know what?

Without a voice no one can hear you and I`ve realised how much impact my voice can have, but it`s even more important that you find your own voice so you can get to know how beautiful it can be. The only thing nobody else has, is you, after all.



She looks at me and I already know what`s coming next

“so how have you been? What have you been doing?”

I could tell her so many things.

I`ve been studying, I`ve been visiting new places, I`ve been learning about new cultures and socities. I`ve been wondering if loneliness and over-thinking actually can kill people on the inside. I`ve been missing my grandmother, I know that`s perhaps nothing new, but it still matters. A lot. I`ve been thinking of things I`m going to do, quotes I`m going to save for 5 years older me. I`ve been missing people, thinking they probably don`t even miss me. I`ve been having nice conversations with people I love. I`ve been feeling lonely. I`ve been confused about life. I could go on and on like that.

Like so many other times, all that comes out of my mouth is:

“Nothing much, I`ve been doing okay. What about you?”

Relatert bilde

//Photo: source


I was a little girl when I realised I wasn`t going to live forever. I`m going to die one day, lie in a grave somewhere and be gone. My feet won`t carry my body anymore, and nobody will be able to find me on this earth. There`ll be no blood running inside my body, and I will no longer be able to make the world a better place.

That is, if I leave no pieces of me, no words written by me or no footsteps for the world to see.

I`ve always wanted to write a book. A book about feelings and lived lives. A book which makes people shake their head, which makes them laugh, which makes their stomach ache because they can feel everything so purely. I want people to feel like they`ve gained everything and nothing, when they finish the last page. I want to make people cry, I want people to feel the sadness so much, that the sadness itself makes them want to cry. I want to inspire, I want to touch, I want to leave something. I need to know the day I die, that I? I`ve left something for people to read and to feel. I need to know I`ve been honest with not only myself, but other people, in order to help someone who might believe they`re the only ones encountering something. Who`re in a situation they believe no one else can understand.

So? One day I`ll tell about the 8-year-old girl who didn`t want to sleep and cried at nights because she was too scared to die. I`ll tell about little me, who met her way too old step-grandfather and wondered if his body was going to fall apart if she dared to touch him once. I`ll tell about a little girl in the kindergarten who played with an African little boy most of the time and once put all of her mum`s make-up on her face. I`ll tell about all the times she jumped on the trampoline in her garden and felt like nobody could ever harm her. About the 12-year-old me who came home, furious and sad, because she was tired of being bullied. I`ll tell about a girl at 14 who was told to go and kill herself, by people she considered to be her friends. I`ll tell about a girl at 19, who saw her grandmother dead. I`ll tell about a little girl who found her relatives laughing, when they when asked what she wants to do when she grows up and received “I want to be a author” as an answer.

I`ll tell about the pain and joy behind this smile.

Bilderesultat for woman book tumblr