Nina Amaral
Stories (6/0)
The Arms of Slumber
I believe it was 2012. The last time I remember waking up from a restfull sleep. After that morning everything became so complicated that insomnia became my only companion under the silence of long nights. Between scraping to survive while supporting an unsupportive husband and realizing just how codependent I was on him, my nights became a safe haven of self hatred and lack of love for myself.
By Nina Amaral2 years ago in Motivation
An open letter to Stephen King
Hello, Mr. King. I am sure you will never read this, but I would like to set my words free to the world none the less. I am nothing but a Brazilian girl who has fallen in love with writing. I am part of a – I imagine so at least – large group of people who have been influenced by your work. I have known that for a long time now, but it wasn’t until my father’s untimely death that it became clear to me just how much you – most of all – has influenced my work.
By Nina Amaral3 years ago in Geeks
Be Kind, Rewind
Memories can be a tricky thing. We are so quick to decide what to pick and choose to keep and what to let go, but the brain doesn’t always allow you such kindness. We are cursed for forgetting the most important joyful little moments that shape us. We are cursed even more so for remembering the most important small tragedies that define us. I am personally cursed when it comes to memory.
By Nina Amaral3 years ago in Families
Gaslighting and the Unrecognised abuse of psychological violence
I should have known something was wrong when, a few months into our relationship, he confronted me with a printed copy of my ICQ history (the year was 2004, people) in which I spoke to an ex-boyfriend who was much older and wiser than me about the doubts I had going into a new relationship with this boy I knew from college. I was so mortified with the shame of what he had found that I didn’t stop to wonder how had he managed to acquire that conversation. I was so busy apologising for a more than normal questioning that I let go of the fact that this relatively new man in my life had invaded my computer, stolen my data and printed it out to guilt me into a feeling of betrayal towards him. I accepted my role as the bad guy so hard I didn’t notice I was placing myself as a perpetual victim to his points of view.
By Nina Amaral3 years ago in Confessions