Olya Aman
Bio
My pen is the finest instrument of amazement, entertainment, motivation and enjoyment, chasing each other across pages.
Stories (37)
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Living With Two Pathological Liars, I Learned to Distinguish the Truth
There is a taint of death, a flavor of mortality in lie. My roommates in college (where I took journalism courses in writing, reporting, and editing) spent their time backbiting and intriguing against each other. I breathed an air of plotting and slander during the first couple of days in their company and detested the two girls heartily.
By Olya Aman5 years ago in Confessions
My Boss Fell in Love With Me and Laid Me Off
Regret made me goofy. Sorrow gave me an enigmatic flavor. I was out of heart The existence of conscience makes the claws of regret sharp. And the stronger one, the deeper the other can penetrate a sensitive flesh. The depressing influence of this feeling creates the sensation of a jail in a living body. This emotion casts a grim look on life. The damp atmosphere that regret creates is suffocating. We need to learn how to dispel the smog from the past and at the same time to keep our hearts from being dried up.
By Olya Aman5 years ago in Confessions
Invocation to Writers Who Fear They Are Not Enough
Everything can be a source of inspiration: passion, rage, and even fear… Everyday life has the territories of characters, the acres of concepts, the meadows of thoughts, and the domains of ideas. And I tell myself: "Why don't I let them free with the help of my creative pen?" I feel sincere affection for the persons I depict. This chemistry between us grows into genuine friendship when I describe their characters. I imagine how we drink tea with saffron, cardamom, and ginger in silence that is full of shared beauty of common understanding that whatever is kept quiet has the meaning I can read with every breath. This music needs dramatic skill to be revealed to the reader. The writers capable of such craft swagger in my memory as the fines and I crave for the same level of expertise and I fear every day that whatever I do is not enough.
By Olya Aman5 years ago in Motivation
Guilt Condemned Me to Sleeplessness
Here is the mind, suffering from insomnia, not dead, and yet not alive. I suffered from sleeplessness and profound distress. My life hung limply over my shoulders, my eyes were red with reading and exhaustion, my face was wet with tears of desperation.
By Olya Aman5 years ago in Confessions
After Baby Stretch Marks Make the Most Beautiful Tattoo
How great a privilege is yours to carry this proof of giving birth. I am determined to be naughty, to tease you, and put in a passion, so you don't give a second to fruitless lamentations about lost smoothness and vanished firmness. Your looks, as they are, are precious. Forget all negative expressions, voicing none. You should not regret the aftereffects, which helped you become a Mother.
By Olya Aman5 years ago in Confessions
