Are you Awake?
“I wonder what people think when they see my eyes- I wonder if one day Ill meet someone with the same eyes.”
“You keep running, but do you know what from?”
“So stranger, what do you know about me now?”
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Rainy in Seattle
Why is it so sad? To me- when I pick up my pen and paper I am to be revealed of all my truths. I have lived a sad life- and I cant seem to get out of it. My pen and paper is in replace of a mask that barley fits my face, and
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20:47
when I left home, I thought I could leave every dirty footprint across every street in my neighborhood, and leave every trace of my existence so that I could create a new one. I wanted a world where he hadn’t touched me, or a world in which I could open my eyes every morning and
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Sleeping Through Your Alarms
I always wondered what it is about people who find the love of their lives. The people who can fall in love, deeply, and without any hesitation and just accept it. I dreamt of that my whole life. Not the movie theater type love, where a princess finds her prince and they lived happily ever
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The Month of June
I used to stay awake to thought of you finally remembering that I exist. That you would wake up, hug me, and tell me that it will all be okay. A therapist asked me a very basic question yesterday- How come I am only now coming for help? I looked at him speechless. Because the
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Why I cant stay the night
All this time, my open wounds tried to bandage itself. It tried to hide its open vulnerability, but nothing would fulfill it. Maybe someone would eventually come and shield it, but it was always temporary. Sometimes I feel like I live a lie, because I am used to hiding within my bandages. But I am
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I was just a kid
I dont remember the day where I would grow out of being a kid. I dont remember my last ignorant laugh, or my innocence for that matter. You look at me today, and what do you see? Do you notice my empty stares, my bruised heart? Do you see my stiffness, my obsessions. Do you
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sitting in a coffee shop, saying fuck you to the world.
It’s 13:25 in this small little coffee shop, and I am sitting alone. A table that must fill two but accompanied by my lonely presence. I am not here to bull shit you. Not here to lie to you about how you must love your company always. That is in fact not a reality, it
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The Art of Being Forgotten
I don’t think that you are exhausted because he left you. Because he did not want you anymore. That he took you out, and invested time in you, just to leave you stranded in your own thoughts. You’re exhausted because it’s the same story every time, different person, same storyline. And every time you say
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the girl in the stars
3:45 pm in the distance, all you could see is the face of a girl who has lost everythingits a dark night, a dark foggy night to be exactor at least for her.You wonder why she walks around so late at night,what goes on in her head at this time? as a spiritual being, I
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chapter one
are you awake? I feel like a stranger, nice to meet you She walks along the sidewalkwhere she feels a slight feeling of discomfortshe can gravitate to the sound of music that plays among the streetsto which the different aromas tickles her nose she can feel there is a sense of home with every touch,
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