The Fire of a Child

Updated: Apr 5


| This is the 568th story of Our Life Logs® |

I was always a curious child. Wandering around, always wanting to know more and to be more. I was a curious child with fire in my veins. I knew I loved to create; it was a fuel that kept the fire inside me alive.

Who knew that fire would be so vital?

I was born in Croatia on July 23, 1983, one hot summer day and, as my mother always said, I was a troublemaker from the moment I came to this world. I never found it fun to do normal things that normal people would engage in. I’m sure it wasn't a picnic to be around very much alive and creative child, but I digress. I didn’t have all the colors in my life that I wanted, so I had to create them myself.

You see, my childhood was anything but happy. My father was an alcoholic and he was abusing my mother, my siblings, and me. Writing and creating was my escape from the hell I was living in.

I’m the little one on the left, holding the cat.


I remember as it was yesterday, when one night, I was 8 years old, my father came home at 3 AM, drunk as always, and dragged me from my bed. The instant I woke up from my sleep, my father's hands started to hit me. There would be many more scary moments, but that the night that changed my life forever. Ever since then I would get lost in music, literature, writing, and creating. 

From eight years old and onward, I kept a pen and a little notebook on my bedside table for the inevitable nights my eyes would suddenly pop open at 1 AM. I would scratch a word or two, a line or two; it was quite a ravenous process, really. Instinct, maybe. I would always fly and dream of my future in those moments. As a child, I saw true war in the Balkan region (the Croatian War of Independence, led between 1991-1995). My creativity was the tool that kept me from all the horrors that were happening to my people. My writing kept me happy. It was my cure.

I told myself, once I grow up, I will write and make others happy. That is all I wanted, to put a smile on everyone’s face and make them feel something. As an empath (which I will find out later in life), it was really my true calling.