What I’ve been up to

Hello everyone, Sonja P. here!

So you may have noticed that I haven’t been posting very much lately on my Merakiwriting Blog, if anything at all but I wanted to let you know that I still definitely have been writing!

Over the past almost two months I’ve been working on a novel series and have been entering competitions where my work may get noticed. The only issue is, a lot of the time the submission criteria for these competitions is that it cannot be previously published in any form, so unfortunately I cannot share it on my blog.

I’ve also been working on a new, more professional website and a new twitter feed solely for promoting my writing and potential achievements.

I still plan on posting on Merakiwriting Blog, but it will probably only be monthly, I’m still not quite sure.

If you liked what you read on this blog please feel free to check out my website and subscribe at https://sonjapeters.wixsite.com/writer and/or follow me at @sonjapeters43

I will be more active on my new website and active almost daily on Twitter and plan to give monthly newsletter updates and new writing on my Sonja Peters Author & Poet website!

I’ve been very excited to share this with you and I hope you will be interested in sharing the journey with me on my eventual road to novel publishing!

Thanks so much!

Sonja P.



When does a villain become a villain?

A villain becomes a villain when they lose the battle.

It’s as simple as that.

But some get confused, for even hero’s occasionally lose.


A villain becomes a villain when they lose their battle.

Their internal battle with themselves.

For the war is never over, and their battles have only begun.

And a hero will fight the same battle, while the villain will rarely fight one.

Feeling Deeply vs Ignorance

Throughout my life I have always been someone who has struggled with my emotions. Oddly enough it was never a struggle of showing them, for I was the kind of person who wore their hearts on their sleeves.


My problem was feeling, and feeling too much in a way. Feeling to the point where there are so many emotions that I felt like I just wanted to not feel anything anymore. Feeling emotions to the point where I’d feel nothing. Feeling emotions as if they were articles of clothing rather than simply emotions.

I have always believed that my emotions were a gift, for empathy and sympathy always seemed to be my strong points. A super power, if you may, of being able to comfort and relate on an emotional and spiritual level. But there is something about feeling so deeply that makes myself question at times if this really is a gift at all. It does seem to appear that people who care less are happier. Less care, less worry.

That is where I was a few days ago, after hanging out with a dear friend who deemed oblivious to my internal struggle, the conclusion appeared to be ignorance is key to a happy life…

But it’s not.

Ignorance leads to miscalculations of judgement. Ignorance leads to hate. Ignorance is not the solution to happiness.

So I may feel things deeply, but I am sure there are a lot of you that do as well. Please remember, ignorance is not the key to happiness, sympathy and empathy is, for if you can understand another, you can better understand yourself.


Sonja P.

A Sense of Belonging



A Sense of Belonging‘ by Sonja P.


Every year, same place, same time, same feeling.

Every year there is a sense of anxiety unlike any other,

A need to perform perfectly,

A need to prove oneself.


As I perform my piece, it is never quite as I had hoped,

But always good enough.

For every year there is a sense of anxiety unlike any other,

A need to perform perfectly,

A need to prove oneself.


For as I leave the stage, and return to my seat,

The anxiety is not gone.

But lurks, and dances under the internal moonlit waves.

A need to be on,

A need to be spectacular.


But as I stand aside, and watch my peers taking a picture without me in my final year,

It is my utter realization that the anxiety was not performance based.


It was the sense of never belonging.

My One Real Regret


There are many things that I regret, though I would never explicitly say it, nor admit it. Regrets as simple as singing the wrong piece in a vocal competition, to eating too much cheese at a friend’s house party. Generally, however my regrets have been small, and non-important in the long run, mostly comprising of small regrets that wouldn’t have really mattered if I did what I wanted to do, or should have done during that time frame.

I feel very fortunate to have a family that loves me, friends that care, and a life that I believe is worth living. With this said, there is one, and only one event that I regret, and deeply regret, and was caused by my own insecurities, and my ability to overthink, and overanalyze events that future were far from there.

The story begins, and ends in grade 8, middle school. I met this guy, let’s call him M, through my extracurricular activates, which so happened to be my favourite activity in the world; the school musical. Though I do admit that it wasn’t love at first sight, I slowly but surely noticed him, and that is saying a lot, for I normally have my head in the clouds. He was friendly, kind, and overall a gentleman, and I actually took counsel from some of my younger musical friends, to ask him to the school dance.

That school dance, was the best time I had ever had at a dance before, and still to this day, tops every social party event I have ever been to.

We ended up going out, and though still to this day I don’t like to admit, that we were dating, I smile to myself at the ignorance I had and still have when reminded of these events. M was kind caring and compassionate, he made me feel comfortable in my own skin, and best of all, spending time with him, took my head out of the clouds, and I was for once grounded in the now and the present.

Fast forward several months of dating, the school musical was soon to end, if not had already ended and I, being full of self-doubt and over thinking started to consider the what ifs and the future, knowing we were not going to the same high school. Long story short, through all the inner turmoil, I broke up with him, telling myself it would be the best for the both of us.

In hind sight I should have just left it at that, but deep down I really liked M, and wanted to be around him, so being the selfish person I was, over the beginning of my high school years stayed in contact with him, which I now realize was a crude way of leading him on to a relationship, that I wanted, but wouldn’t let myself have.

I distinctly remember telling M, near the end of our time we spent together during high school, that I felt that I didn’t really know him.

But time is fair, in this kind of way, for as if the countless nights of thinking about these terrible decisions I had made, and cruel and thoughtless things I had said, were not enough, the tables turned in my final year of high school. I was good friends with a guy, let’s call him A, and well I had a massive crush on him, but he led me on, and it was at the end of the year when I talked to him face to face when I realized that he actually did not know me, and everything I had told him, had never been truly heard. It was then, when I truly realized through my own pain, what I have done to have wrong M, and how I was so unfair.

But time is kind, in a sense for though, some attempted conversations with M had led nowhere, his kindness still prevails, and I think to myself, how lucky any woman would be to be in a relationship with him. For kindness is too often overlooked, and pain is too often remembered.

If there is anything I have learned from my one real regret, it would be to appreciate what you have in relationships and friendships that you have. Don’t overthink, and just enjoy your moment on the ground and feeling present, in a world that many, including I would sometimes like to escape.


Sonja P.




‘Real’ by Sonja P.


What makes someone real? Is it their tangibility? Or their presence that can be felt across a crashing sea? Is it their voice, their eyes, their smile? Or is it their tangibility? Their presence, that can be felt across a crashing sea?

What makes someone real?


For I know that I am Real. I see myself, I know I exist, I laugh and breath like anyone else, but there is so much more than tangibility; the physical extremities, that make a person real.

What makes someone real?


Reality is not when you can see a person, but it is when you can stare into a person’s eyes and you can see, them. Not their clothes, their hair, their, looks. But you can see their souls. Their raw selves that they constantly shelter from the icy world.

What makes you real?


For you are not a fake, a fraud, nor just a passenger in today’s life. You are as real as the air we breathe, and as pure as the crystal waters that come from the freshest springs.

Do not hide your reality,

For reality, is you.