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Solace In My Soul

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This is about a girl. Not just any girl. A very ambitious one who has goals, studies for exams, writes poems, has hobbies, works on projects, laughs with friends and family, and usually is the one to light up the room. Except that no one sees the days when she’s tired, she’s incapable of shining anymore and she needs a break from being everybody’s light when she herself is filled with darkness inside. She looks fine, in fact happy and energized when she laughs to jokes in class, runs around in the school ground, asks a question. And she indeed is fine, working on her goals after going home, being productive, making the most of her day.  So it’s just another average Tuesday. She is prepared to walk home by herself after school and start studying, filling pages, accomplishing, doing, just… working . She starts to walk home normally, bag clutched firmly on her back, wind behind the trees whipping little strands of hair in her eyes. She halts her walk and moves her finger delicately to...
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Maybe It's Okay

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Maybe the key wasn't hating you. Maybe the key wasn't crafting the perfect goodbye. Maybe the key wasn't sniffling under the desk just to feel worthy. Because you know what? This grief shows that it wasn't a lie. It wasn't a pretty promise. It was small, it was warm, it was comforting and it meant something. Grieving a meaningful friendship is better than grieving a bunch of betrayal and hurt. Because even if it hits harder, even if it hurts deeper, the little thought that it meant something all makes it feel worth it. I feel alive again. And maybe I don't hate it that much. We're not two people who ruined each other, but two people who gifted each other with nothing more than a good, unique friendship. But good doesn't mean perfect. Good doesn't mean flawless. So life got in the way, and the circumstances are too harsh. That's the only thing that seperates us, because we're no longer two people who ruined each other, but two friends who real...
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The Ending Doesn't Erase The Story

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  I keep telling myself it was a mistake, a devil in disguise, something that should have never even happened. I try to give myself closure by trying to despise you for not giving more or reaching out. Not because I expected something of the sort from you, but because I know how hurt and angry you feel from that look in your eyes that fills mine with sympathy. I know that I'm not the only one carrying this whole thing. You keep being kept in the dark, bombarded with the weight of words, and then pushed away. I know how hurt you are, and I can't help but care. Care for you. How you're doing. Whether you're ok or not. And that's why I trained myself to despise you, to hate you, to treat it all like a mistake, like it was never meant to be. Because hating you makes moving on easier. Simpler. Less crushing and heavy and suffocating and sad. But it still hurts to see you cry. I still wish I could reach out. I still wish we could just talk things through, fix it, go back ...
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Dear Self, Stay With Me

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  I miss the days when I was bulging Not with grief, but with hope But now all I have is myself My burning thoughts which don’t help me cope People, situations, events and time Are not in my hands Yet it stings like sour lime I want my control back Yet I see the cracks The words that still hurt The spark I want back I wish I could feel strong and grow With no shame, no pain that shows Yet I continue to crumble each day Wishing that I still stay. 
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Can It Please Go Back To Normal?

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Food that used to taste like paradise now feels like chewing cardboard. Education that used to feel like a privilege is now just something that fills in the void. Indulgence that used to be enriching is now just a way to escape. Connections that used to feel lively are simply what keeps me going now. Passion that used to spark a fire now became subtle, hard to find. Eyes that used to hold so much joy are now struggling to hold back tears. A heart that used to bulge with joy, is now tired and numb and bursting with everything. Can life just please go back to normal? Because I miss those days.  That's all I have to say. 
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Light At The End Of The Tunnel

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  Isn't it a privilege to have fixable problems, when emotional intelligence comes to your aid? There's hope, there's light at the end of the tunnel and with that belief, grief starts to fade. But now it's not the same It's all my fault Misunderstandings Which tear it all apart.  Is this how it all was supposed to end, left with no spark, no life to mend? Yet I know that it's me that made it like this like something out of control, a forbidden wish. I feel tired of chasing away these thoughts So I try to fill the void with distraction and whatnot. Can dreams be fuelled from an empty mind? Is there still any potential to find? Is it ok to keep asking, Or should I shut it out? Should I let it be the end, Embrace it like a friend? I still find it hard, still wish it never happened, but the question is, Is there light at the end of the tunnel?
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Don’t They Get Tired?

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 I look up at the sky, watching the beams of sunlight slowly disappear behind the clouds. I stand there, watching day turn into night, watching the sky turn into midnight blue with pink hues still seeping in below. Despite the sheer beauty and vastness of the world above, a world where clouds and stars are like dreams, whispers woven into the air, a single tear rolls down my cheek. I look up at the sky and think, “Don’t the stars get tired of shining so bright?”. So alluring, so illuminating, but don’t stars get tired too? I try to imagine them staring down at me from above, watching the tears sting my eyes and roll down my cheeks, laughing and teasing me for losing my spark so easily. The thought of it nearly makes me laugh. “But stars don’t just shine,” I say softly to no one but myself and the world above. “They burn. Sometimes they blast. You know, like supernovas.’ I finally sit down and look at the now starry sky, a dark black shade now showing the dazzling stars ever so clea...
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