Skip to main content

eBook: You're Loved And You Belong Here by Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu


Depression is real. On daily basis, many take their lives to escape from the hurt and frustration that colour their lives in ugly shades of grey.

Naturally, humans desire to be loved, appreciated and even crave validation from loved ones, but not all seem to get this desire evenly satisfied.


Subtly, love-starved souls slip into depressed moods, from a distance, they watch love and acceptance fly past them into the arms of neighbours, colleagues, siblings, relatives, friends... but none ever rings their bell. They feel unloved, unwanted, less human, inferior, sad, hurt, rejected, dejected and eventually, suicidal.

This book is a collection of letters, articles and daily musings that serves as a reminder to you, who’s emotionally bruised that You Are Loved, And You Belong Here.

How To Get A Copy: Click any of the following links: 


Or follow the alternate procedure:

- Transfer #200 to the bank account below. To order for the eBook:
pay into:
ANYATONWU STEPHEN O.
3118209817
FIRST BANK
- Send your proof of payment (screenshot of the transfer) to any of these:
Whatsapp: 07064982214
- Once receipt of payment is confirmed, I'll send you a dedicated link to download the book.

#Pengician
#SSA 

Enjoyed reading? Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!


Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Fiction | The Tripod Effect

THE TRIPOD EFFECT The Smiths were unable to conceive children and decided to use a surrogate father to start their family. On the day the surrogate father was to arrive, Mr. Smith kissed his wife and said, "I'm off. The man should be here soon" Half an hour later, just by chance a door- to-door baby photographer rang the doorbell, hoping to make a sale.  "Good morning, madam. I've come to...." "Oh, no need to explain. I've been expecting you," Mrs. Smith cut in. "Really?" the photographer asked. "Well, good. I've made a speciality of babies"  "That's what my husband and I had hoped. Please come in and have a seat"  After a moment, she asked, blushing, "Well, where do we start?"  "Leave everything to me. I usually try two in the bathtub, one on the couch and perhaps a couple on the bed. Sometimes the living room floor is fun too; you can really spread out!" "Bathtub, living room floo...
Post a Comment
Read more

RIP: Return If Possible (Ode to my High School crush)

She would wink at me from the corner of her eyes. She would dare to slap the tallest in my class if he dares bully me for penning his name in my list of noise makers. She would share her pen  when mine is spent. She would help me take notes when sick I lay in bed. She played my advocate  even when I least deserve it. Her height, though intimidating earned more of my admiration. Her fingers Her palms though long and bold compared to my petite own were my favourite to hold. She was loud and noisy not never made the list. She would speak Igbo and wink 'you dare not write my name' Her drawings, I did when others I snub. JSS 3 to SSS 1 I crushed on this pretty girl But I was too shy to ink that poem. I left without letting you know how much I care. Had no time to appreciate your kind gestures undeserved defense... You were my crush. Augusta, When I found first Facebook you were the first I searched to add... In vain I searched  You were not found. I stalked the walls of our cl...
Post a Comment
Read more

Featured Poem: What Happens When A Poet Falls In Love - by Martin Deep

Dusk brings the charms to my lips It would seem. The moon is here and My tongue is ripe with whispers. I can whisper now For my eyes are weary From telling poetry. How you were enchanted with the rhyme my sighs poured when I touched your fountain head! The candles have gone all out The muse has drunk up the oil of the lamp to the last droplet. The innocent wigs dies noiselessly. Is this what happens when a poet falls in love? That my trashcan becomes the graveyard for my pen That lay like thankless knights That have bled to please their mistress for quests unsent. Is this what happens when a poet falls in love? That the innocence of papers are stolen? How so many have cried in the merciless flames sentenced thus 'bearers of unworthy words' So pure our love is my love. So true. A cherub perhaps is ravished and he cries to God to have him be our ring bearer . What other fulfillment  is greater than our spirits soaring in each other's eyes? Is this what happens when a poet fal...
Post a Comment
Read more