Dear __ ,
We barely talk,
we spend mornings and nights
looking down on those rectangular box.
You don't even look at me anymore,
unless it is through the lens of yours.
You can't hear me over those phone calls of yours,
and now my heart sores and roars
for I feel alone.

For a smile
is masked on her face
Concealing the grief
that is pouring out of her.

As you read stanza per stanza,
words interwine with your emotions.

They embrace them in their inked grooves,
like your depths, tangles and cobwebs
has found words to finally be tuck into
and call home.

The waves of emotion lap
against your jagged shores.
Their 27 alphabets playing the cords
and heartstrings of your heart
as though the cadence was at the same
wavelength.

Threads of connection form
to another soul that you did not know of.
Their books become your home,
etching parts of your soul,
mind and heart as though it is a
torn page of the book that has returned.

You labeled the poison
as love
making me believe
this is love  
I hope you cared
enough to tell me
to put on a breathing mask

Inheriting independence
Intruding boundaries
You let your actions stem
from insecurity and jealousy
You want to protect me
But now I feel,
I need protection from you.

You’re taking my life and air;
Choking
Caging  
Suffocating
And Stifling me.

Love me
Don’t own me.
Protect me,
But don’t bound me.

You’re being possessive
That it turns out obsessive
And sometimes situations get aggressive.

Fire burns in your love
But your intentions become impure.
In becoming possessive
You became invasive.

You try to move my blood to your accord.
Try to be the nerve to my muscle.
But you’re blinding my eyes with tears
And leaving myself internally screaming.
It is like a curse that brings problems without a cause.

I want to b r e a t h e  
I want to s c r e a m  
I want to f l e e  

I wonder,
Where did all the happiness go?
Because I just find myself lamenting
over the days that pass by.

- Beautiful Sensitive Soul

At times they were just plain words on paper
and at times they were expressive and powerful poetry.
At times it was paint spilled all over
and at times it was a masterpiece.
At times it was a stress
and at times it was a relief.

I guess
progress was never meant to be linear.
It was never meant to be all flow
without ebb.
It was never supposed to be all great and good,
but neither were these times supposed to have the power
to bring you down to give up,
because you feel it will never be good enough.

The colors of your memory, you can no longer contrast as they swirl into one another.At times they are vibrant as though you are vividly living them experiencing them,and at times they are dull as though they have faded and been acid washed.

Your past slips into the present and present slips into the past. Some days you love me;as though it was the first time you are holding me in the palms of promises. But there are days when my name never slips your tongue and I am a mere stranger to you.

The memories are no longer stored in your mind, but on gigabytes that I have to play – that has become your storage and retrieval. Your memory has become pixelated, but you can no longer remember them as though it was your own.

Some days you’re on a carousel of memories in your mind; revering and your tongue has forgotten its language. At times you speak eloquently, but at times they are stars that are unlinked and lost. You used to weave constellations but now it’s difficult to put in a thread into the needle.

Thread of your memories begins to wear and the tales woven through ancestry fray with details as the world slips away and the thread unwinds. You try revising the tales, but the thinning at ends of your recollection slowly fades.

The scent infused with ambiance sends echoes of familiar places, resulting in you having spasms of remembrance while the flutters of moth wings beat at the edge of your mind.

There are days when you become a shell of yourself, as your pupils remain fragments detached from reality. I watch you as you wind yourself back in front of my eyes. Ebbing and flowing, freezing and releasing; trying to make sense of the confusion and panic that riles in your mind.

Though you feel, your stars are growing cold and feel like an ethereal that has collapsed, your smile is still the brightest star in the furthest galaxy. It is made of combustion of crimson blue yonder and candy hues.

Though your palms are dreams wrinkled dry, and your memories are falling like baby tooth, as the color of your speech is bleached and you frantically scavenge for memories to ground and make sense - I’ll be there to hold your scattered mind with patience and love you the days you won’t remember me as your own

Why do we keep holding on when all we do is magnify one other flaws; have our words act taws and have our unsupportive attitude act like claws dragging one another down? Why do keep holding on when it is no longer authentic? Are we really that scared of letting go of familiarity and embracing the unknown? Because we both know it feels wrong and that there is someone better for us. Do we just have to be strong? Because It hurts to admit there is someone better out there for us, all along.
There is someone with whom we’ll click, mind and heart; just connect with and accept. A connection that is greater than the constellation drawn and electricity itself. Compassion that is greater than the depth of ocean itself. Did we mistake falling for one another because we fell in love moment, and kept holding on just to feel alright? Is that why we are afraid to leave, because we are scared to be lonely and not alright?

Beauty for me was measured by numbers and shade. The shade of my skin. The number on the scale, the size tag on the shirt, the number of compliments and the number of likes. Social status was defined by the number of followers. And I myself defined through the eyes of others and opinions. But beauty was so much more. It wasn’t all about being beautiful. It is about the words you speak. It is about what you read and watch. It is the cerebral stimulating conversations you hold. It is the way you burn heart with brilliance and engulf heart with compassion. It is the sweetness in your laughter and the humor in your quirkiness. It is the things you stand up for and the things you love. It is the way you are random and weird. It is the way you sow your own garden and give flowers to yourself and others. It is the way you lose yourself in your passions and the way you’re so driven to your goals. It’s all the intricacies of your heart, mind and soul. For there is beauty in all the little things that made you, you. Most of all there is beauty in the way you see, love and care for yourself, because all along you never needed to convince anyone or fit in to the words written to be beautiful. And accepting yourself for the person you are is the most empowering and beautiful thing you can do.

"I don't care if it's a joke in your eyes." She said with no hesitancy and a certain sharpness in her voice. Her softness faded and boldness came over. Her stare was razor sharp as though she could **** someone but it was also disciplined more than impulsive. It wasn't rage, it was fire; fierce and courageous that l hadn't ever seen her dress in. She looked intimidating but strong. She looked daunting but fearless. "There is a limit to jokes, I do joke around and it is fun to a certain point. But there are words and actions I will not tolerate and that is my personal choice. My boundary. I don't care if I love you or if you are my friend. I don't care if you are the closest person to me or the farthest. I will not let your actions or words compromise on my self respect anymore. It is my self value that I stand by. Your actions, words do not define me. The way you treat me does not bring down my worth and neither does it matter to me anymore. I am not a reflection of who you treat me. I know who I am now, I know what I stand by. I am not afraid of losing you or afraid to be seen as a person who overreacts" She stepped in closer, sending a shiver down their spine. "This is my self respect, value, and boundary - accept it or leave"

"I never knew it was toxic, until I tasted freedom with love. I never knew what it was like to be loved, without being encaged. But now I can take my decisions, I can roam free. I can be loved and be my own person. I chose what I do today and forever.
It was love before, it is love now. But now he loves me into independence. I discover more about myself. I find myself healing.The stifling breath, and aching sobs in my chest are slowly fading.  It was love before but the bad outweighed the good. Too weak and in love to leave. But I am not a possession, I am my own person."

- excerpt from a monologue of breaking free from a possessive relationship

“Darling, I know you want someone to care. I know you want someone to love you the days you don’t love yourself; believe in you the days you don’t believe in yourself. I know you don’t want to feel alone, weak and broken. I know you want someone to go out of their way to show they love and care for you even in the subtlest of ways.
But darling, until that person comes in your life, I want you to care about your happiness. I don't want you to let your happiness be dependent on the people who make you taste sadness. I want you to care about yourself when no one does. I want you to do all that you hope one day someone does for you, yourself. I want you to indulge in all what you love. Indulge in all that enriches your mind; brings love to your heart and brings happiness to your soul. I want you to make plans, go out and have fun for yourself. Because, you my dear are the moon and the sun of your world. You deserve happiness and care even when none are willing to give. You don't need a hand to hold, even when the night gets cold because you've got the fire in your soul. The beat of your heart is enough to keep you going. You are always enough to keep yourself happy, cared about and successful.
And even if you ever to meet that person, I always want you to remember to keep loving and caring about yourself.”

- excerpt from an open letter

“I keep expecting people to care. To worry about me. To pull me back when I push them away. To be my umbrella on the rainy days. To try harder, ask and reach out. But when they don’t, it breaks my heart. I know it sounds irrational, but I feel disappointed. And once I’ve healed from the experience, I go back to hoping once more. It’s like I never learn my lesson.” Each word reeked of despair and regrets as they slipped off my tongue.
“Yeah, I understand you. I do the same.” She said in the most reassuring of ways with her hand holding mine. Her ocean blue eyes were comfortingly soft and deep with wisdom. “The only thing that really has been getting me through is trusting myself enough to care when someone doesn’t do the same. To catch myself when someone else doesn’t.”

Dear Sensitive Souls,
They call us emotional, fragile and weak as though these are the only words to describe us. Did they not see beyond the fact that we feel too much? that we are also empathetic and compassionate? Did they overlook all the beautiful qualities that came along with being sensitive.

So often we took our sensitivity as a curse for making us drown in an ocean of emotions. For being hurt by noticing the intricacies in people's body language, attitude and hesitations. For leaving us sore, drained at the end of the day. For making our problems look so insignificant in the eyes of others that we wouldn't even feel like opening up because if we did, word would just spill and eyes would just flood. For making us feel no one would understand the intensity of our emotions. For just letting us feel we were weak because every word, every vibe, every energy would just penetrate right through our heart leaving us to feel broken.

For making us feel so overwhelmed that it would be a struggle to get through the day. For making us face their statements and questions "Why are you so emotional?" "You're like a volcano ready to just explode" "Just toughen up" "You're such a mess". Sensitivity initially left me feeling so weak and broken for being affected so easily at the littlest of
things.

But over the years I met beautiful and kind souls who admired sensitivity as one of the rare and crucial part of humanity. Spending time with them changed my perspective about sensitivity and started to embrace it as a part of me.

The word "Sensitive" that once sounded like an insult became a compliment. The sensitivity I used to once spend my day hating became something so beautiful to me. It was when I started to embrace my sensitivity did I allow my emotions to be acknowledged, felt and be expressed.

“Don’t let my name be the lyric to their cacophony of laughter. Don’t let me be the ridicule that your friends crack upon. I don’t want them to sip on our memories turning them into a hip story. So don’t give me away to their tongues that let my name slip ever so flippantly. Seal me in your heart where I would be untouched. Embed those memories in your mind as though they were sacred. Let my name be unknown and our stories untold. Let us be concealed for we are much more than the pleasantry gossip of their conversation” she said softly as she put down the phone.

I learnt everything is temporary; moments, feelings and people. I learnt everything happens for a reason. I learnt there is power in my losses and power in my wins. I learnt how everything is in a pair of two, memories and lessons; love and pain. I learnt it’s about letting yourself feel the pain and to express it. It’s about finding the ones who are worth suffering for. I learnt the value of kindness, softness and vulnerability and how the world tries to **** you of it. This year was of hurting bad but, living good as well. It was another year of making friends out of strangers and strangers out of friends. This year taught me so much about caring and standing up for myself. About forgiving, healing and growing from it. So here’s to another year of focusing on warm energy and surrounding myself with people who compliment it. Here’s to the inhalation of the point I’ve reached and soaking in it’s happiness. Here’s to new opportunities, new experiences and a new year.

“It’s becoming tougher to love you every time you hurt me. It’s becoming tougher to trust you every time you betray me. It’s becoming tougher to be vulnerable every time you exploit me. It’s becoming tougher to lend you my heart when it feels like an open wound in your hand. You taunt me every opportunity you find, brag about my flaws occasionally, criticize and act cold at times. I am tired of visiting the restroom as though it is my sanctuary during occasions, shedding tears and walk out numbing my heart. We ought to be encouraging, loving and supporting one another and not pushing the other down to rise. But the heartaches are becoming often and old wounds are being reopened. It’s becoming tiring to experience it over and over again. I guess for it to not hurt anymore, it shouldn’t matter anymore.”

"I fear of having my turbulent waves crash down upon you. I fear of having my chaos entangle you in it’s mess. I fear my darkness enwrapping, engulfing and entrapping you in it’s depths. I fear of leaving you bewildered by the cryptic words that slip my tongue."

- excerpt from an open letter

First love is innocent and pure. It is the first time your blood gushes to your cheek, making them blush. First time you feel you can’t-sleep-can’t-breathe-can’t-eat. First time you feel speechless but poetic. First time your heart feels it is going to beat itself out of your chest. First time when the words “I love you” send down a tingly feeling along your nerves. First time when you feel sleepless but exhilarated. First time you find yourself thinking about someone all day. First time you trust someone to protect your heart. First time you feel-so-much-you-get-scared. First time you let someone past your guards and in. First time when your day feels incomplete without talking to them and world incomplete without their presence. First time when every intricate memory and detail matters. First time your skin feels electrified when you stand next to them. First time you realize you can feel this way about another person.
The first person with whom you experience the waves of various shades of emotions. The first person you’re willing to give, give and give with no limits for too much never seems too much. The first person you are willing to surpass any boundaries for. The first person you love more than yourself. The first person you pour love and secrets too. The first person who made your smile widen. The first person who you imagine your present and future with. The last person you think about when you sleep and first one to wake up to. The first person who makes you feel the love in songs, books, and movie. The first person to make you aware of something deep in yourself. The first person who feels like the moonlight in the night sky and the sun in the day. The first person who you are willing to take interests in their interest and love what they love. The first one who loves all your insecurities and flaws into beauty.

“For once I want you to think about me” she said weepingly, almost like an urge, a plea. Her skin glistered where the tears touched her skin. “For once I want you to care about me” every word manifesting more emotion than the one before. “I want you to think about me while I talk to you. I want your undivided attention. I want your wholehearted love. Please, just for once, just for a while I need you completely to me.“

Him: She looked different, I hadn’t seen her face this bright in a really long time. In that moment she was the moon, the star, a luminous soul that stood before my eyes. She was like confetti, leaving sparkles where she stepped. It wasn’t like the happiness she plastered on her face or the smile that made dimples appear on the ends of her lips. This was different. I could feel the energy. 
Her cheeks swallowed her eyes whole and those hidden teeth behind her lips were exposed. It was just everything about her, how her voice was powerful and high-pitched just like a youngster. The way her pupils dilated and showed all her excitement. The way her soul radiated excitement and joy. It was everything about her, the way she moved, the way she spoke, the way she laughed. Happiness made her feel like she could do anything. Happiness was more than just beautiful on her. It was luminous and powerful.

Her: This happiness felt ineffable. It was more than just a star lighting up in the dark, it was more than the darkness fading away. It wasn’t the happiness that is supposed to be picture perfect or the commercially perfect of having pearly white teeth. It was the one that my soul roar and bursting away from the confinement. It was the happiness that made adrenaline rush through my veins and neurons spark every cell of mine. It was the happiness that made me not care about what others thought, whether I was too much or over-excited. I was happy, I was more than happy after a very long time. It didn’t matter to me. I felt fierce. I felt like a child. I felt everything beautiful and powerful. I didn’t want to lose it to others words or to anything in this world. I was going to protect it, guard it and hold on to it. I was going to shine and radiate.

But the lovebirds turned into ravens and heart warmth into heartbreak. The pain felt inexplicable as I crumbled to the floor, face scrunching up to let out a gasp through the heart-wrenching sobs. It was as though someone ripped my heart out of my chest and bore a hole in my mind and soul with no hopes of repair.The future we painted was tinted and washed with the tears that scraped my cheek, that once used to blush. Our love didn’t have a Disney proof happy ending or of the star-crossed lovers that fought by one another’s side.
Visiting areas where we spent time dragged me through memories, attacking my nerves and ravaging upon what was left of my being. The home we built and leveled with intimacy, trust and love reduced to ruins, crumbling and collapsing. It’s like my heart is dying a slow death, shedding hope like leaves every day until there is none. Our love sailed for some time but only to end up shipwrecked. Fragile like the glass that awaited to broken until the shards fit no more.
Defeaned by the repetition of the melancholiac rhythms that soothe my spasming and scorched heart as the beat resonates with my heart and lyrics echoes in my skull. The wound that was cut bleeds deep for there was no scab to heal; endless anguish and agony. The pain felt like a constant ache, a constant stain on the floor and the pillow. But then it came in waves, crashing and enveloping me in its depths, stealing appetite and sleep. Drifting away from the shore where the people lie, I find myself drowning in isolation. Inhaling the heaviness that made me one with the sea.
The echoes of your words in my skull send pulsating self-doubt questions that make me question my worth. “Was he not the one?”. The world seems like it’s going to end and that I will never find love. But instead live with a heart yearning your name and the broken, hollow vessel that I have become.
You changed the way I thought of myself and now I don’t know who I am without you. The world seems to ripped from my arms for I didn’t have you to turn to. No one to catch me; to caress and to soothe. Your face is engraved in my memory, without you, everything seems meaningless. Saturating myself further in dreaded apathy. In a shattered state, I am further tortured in dreams if I were to find sleep in the darkness that consumes the night.
Plastered on a smile and laugh occasionally, when deep down I am longing, drowning and gasping to breathe with your name on my tongue.I mourn the unspoken words while my head hangs heavy in the thought of you, every fiber and cell missing you.

"How can no one see?" he said softly, almost as a whisper that made her brow rise in confusion. But there was a strange slight relief around the curviness of her lips and in those dark deep blue eyes that seemed to have lit up turning a shade lighter. She exhaled a sigh of relief as though she was glad someone was asking or even talking to her.
"How can no one hear the air carrying the whispers of your cries? How can no one see the merge between the depthful ocean and the mysterious galaxy in your eyes? Does no one feel the sadness leaking out of your pores? The way your smile is never complete, how your cheeks does not swallow your eyes no more. Does no one see your face and say You're a beautiful masterpiece made of all these broken pieces and I want to know more."

“If you want to talk about it, I am here for you. Just like old times or new times, I don’t know. But I am here for you.” Cancerous words he spilled onto the screen, for they just multiplied the happiness that now sparked within her. Brewing hope and burning her eyes with emotions that flowed her eyes, leaving her mind fuzzy with joy. They finally opened their hearts to one another; a raw, vulnerable, authentic conversation after years. It was a conversation where she was drowned in the most beautiful-devastating of ways. A conversation she never wanted to end for the words seemed infinite and emotions seemed everlasting. She held onto this moment as perfect as it was as her eyes slid go sleep.

I am still that shy girl who’s afraid to approach people and have her words and thoughts heard. I am still that girl who fantasizes scenarios of her confident self. I am still that girl who’s afraid of social interaction. I am still that girl who mentally prepares herself just to say hi on the phone. I am still that girl who’s silent in one of those corners. I am still that girl who mutters and stutters words and sometimes finds it difficult to decipher her own emotions and thoughts. I am still that girl who doesn’t run because she’s afraid of her body being judged. I am still that girl and is more magnified some days.
Just this time she has a little more faith in herself. She wants to be louder than her “not good enough” talks. She wants to be bolder and burn brighter than her fears. She doesn’t want to be en-caged by the fear of others thoughts and words because it really wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth not reaching her potential. It wasn’t worth not moving forward. She’s the same girl, with the same dreams except for this time she wants to move past the fear for herself.

“Please, I am drowning. I am suffocating. I am fading. This is my plea for help that breezes on your skin ever so silently. There is only darkness. There is nothing. No one. You tell me you’re there, but I can’t see you. You tell me you’re there to listen, but there is no ear. You tell me you are going to stay, but I see you leaving. Is it because it is too much for you?
You’re going through nothing. You’re life is perfect. You’re going to be fine. It doesn’t feel like nothing. It feels heavy. Heavy on the mind and heart. Scarring and wounding. Re-wounding and never healing. It’s not nothing. It is more than something. And maybe it would be fine if you .

“I fall in love with words, so how could I not fall in love with yours? How could I not fall in love with the beautifully weaved lies? How could I not fall in love with the words that flowed like melody and phrased like lyrics holding emotional depth? How could I not fall in love with the perfect illusion of the love you had? How could I not fall in love with image of how beautiful I was by the compliments you sent my way?”

She was more than her skin color. She was more than her features. She was more than just her appearance. It was about her soul. It was about her pure heart. It was about her mind. It was about her passions. It was about the beauty of who she was and what she did. It wasn’t just about intimacy or appearance. It was about her moral beauty more than physical beauty. It was about exploring the depths that made her who she is. She’s the one you could explore the corners of your mind, the one you get lost with during deep and soul enriching talks. She was more than just her skin, she was the ocean. She was a Kalon –  beauty that is more than skin deep. And only the ones who who look beyond skin deep will see her for who she really is.

Here’s to the ones who opened my mind to various other world that existed. Here’s to the ones who’s deep conversation enriched my mind, soul and heart. Here’s to the ones who kept me sane. Here’s to the ones who did constant grammar checks. Here’s to the ones who accepted my insanity, weirdness and quirkiness and stayed. Here’s to the ones that offered their ear to listen and hand to hold. Here’s to the ones who loved me the days I didn’t love myself. Here’s to the ones who believed in me the days I didn’t believe in myself. Here’s to the ones who would check up on me, just to see how am I doing. Here’s to the ones who sparkled my day with their random acts of kindness. Here’s to the ones who made me laugh a ton at their lamest of jokes. Here’s to the ones who built houses in my heart and kept it warm. Here’s to the ones who made my dark days bearable and this year extra special by being themselves.

Mothers. Possibly one of the significant contributors of the phrase “Empowered Women, Empower Women.” They overcome adversities, challenge social norms and break down barriers – rising and raising their child with them.

They plant flowers in the garden of their children, so they can bloom. They pour love out like a waterfall and nurture those who drink from it. They enflame hearts with compassion. They orchestrate and create harmony amongst their children creating a beautiful symphony. They pave roads and liberate. They voice out and amplify the ones of their own.

Here is to their depths of love that supports and caresses. To their cheers that uplifts. To how they raise and confront the world. To their softness. To their boldness. To their resilience. To their sacrifices. To them bringing out the best in us.

Here is to their ability to create an insurmountable power that only grows. Here is to them to being driven and passionate in their own authentic way. To them carrying out their integrity. To them setting examples, aspiring us to emulate.

To the ones who give birth, adopt, educate and raise. To the ones who devote their lives to their families care, to the ones who balance. Here is to them creating ripples carried over generation. To them shaping us and thereby shaping the world after them.

"I am trying to hold on. Even to the silliest and littlest of things. Even if it’s temporary. But there isn’t anything in my reach. Just grasping darkness. Nothingness. I am trying to tell you, my cry for help is soft almost as a breeze. Through little hints, please try to see. But it is going by un-noticed. There is no one to save me. Nothing to hold. I am slipping. I feel myself letting go. There is no tug from the heart that attachments were once etched to. I feel myself letting go of the thin life line I hold. Letting my life go as the tears that leave my eye and the crimson blood that spills from my skin. I slip, as I slip into sleep.”

"Darling, if there’s one thing I learnt this year it is to never get attached to someone unless they feel the same towards you. Never lean on someone who wouldn’t do the same. Never care too much about someone who doesn’t care about you. Never give too much of your mind, time and heart to someone who wouldn’t give you back. Because the truth is one sided expectation can mentally and emotionally destroy you."

“I can’t  b  r  e  a  t  h  e.  You’re trying to sheathe me from the world. But I just want  to scream and flee. I want to leave, I want to escape. I don’t want to be bounded, I don’t want to be caged. But your muscles are possessive, hands like shackles and ribs encasing and engaging. Your scent clings to my finger and your embracement breaks my bones. Your words make decisions for me, exerting boundaries onto me. You’re stifling my breath and suffocating me. You want my blood to move at your accord. But I am drowning, choking and gasping. You’re pushing me away by entitling me. Your possessiveness knows no limits as you become invasive. You say it’s just because you love me, that you would go beyond any limit; but it’s obsessive. I feel like I am on a leash. I am no longer my own person, but a puppet to my master. A land to your dominian.”

She wrote his name on the seashore, along with what she never told. Taking a step back, she let the turbulent waves crash upon the shoreline and wipe away it all away. She let the words be taken back by the retrieving waves, letting them be lost in the sea. Inhaling the cold air that made every cell of her shiver she hoped one day the words will be whispered by the breeze from the sea.

“Did you witness her rise from the cold, wet earth? Did you watch as her petals unfold? Did you see the way the dew drops glistened like diamonds on her red-blood petals? Did you hear the whispers of her mind, heart and soul diffusing and infusing in fragrance carried around?"

As I awake from the cryogenic slumber I was put in, I find myself walking around a mansion. It must be a century into the future, but everyone still seems to be asleep in their pods.

As I walk around, my feet guide me through a tunnel lit by hanging candelabras, as though they have a life of their own. Few moments later, I find myself standing in front of a of a jagged wooden door with tiny bugs crawling up the dented-scratches and a loose door **** awaiting to be opened to the library that stretches far and wide.

The windows are tinted vintage yellow and air stenched with the musty smell of worn books; heavied with dust. The large maghony table stands alongside the ladders and railings, allowing access to the different levels of the library.

My hand reaches out for a leather-bounded book, as though it was longing to be read and plucked from the ornately carved bookshelf. It is my biography; my breathings worded and memories penned.

Stunned, I ran my fingers along the frayed pages, to find the stories of every person to have crossed paths with stretched out across the pages.

I re-read pages, letting the wordy essence cling to my skin and the embers to re-ignite. I allowed myself to taste the salt and sugar of the sunrise to sunset span with the ones who left inky footprints across my heart. Until I came across a name that started resurfacing from the dustiest parts of my mind.

Out of curiosity I reach out to the protruding mark to find myself holding her biography, and countless pages stained with my name. “I sat there tossing sorrows from one hand to another, trying to let the blue ink gush onto the page in front. I could feel the darkness coaxing my mind, labeling me with names as I held back the tears stinging my eyes. I was an invisible cloak; an outcast who was unwanted.

But then she came, each step paced with confidence. Her curls leaked sunshine into the room; I could feel it warming the cold that layered me. I found her seating herself near me, as the girls behind me laughed like a pack of hyenas, gossiping about the new faces entering.

I found her looming above me, her hair brushing against my forehead “Wow, has anyone told you write really well?” but all I could manage was a shy smile in comparison to her gleaming grin that swallowed her cheeks whole. That was the first time I heard someone say that and then there was something warm, fuzzy, a spark? Happiness? Hope? It felt foreign and different, almost energetic but I craved more.

In the coming days I watched as she drove herself with passion, reaching out to catch stars, blooming herself and handing it to others. She was alive and vibrant. Almost brilliant like lightning, enlightening the sky with her spark like the one that was fuzzing between my cells.

Her presence was alluring, I found myself responding to her wavelengths, wanting to resonate with it; to have purpose, meaning and life. She made me want to untangle myself from the toxic relationships I had. It made me want to stop drinking the poison they fed me. It made me want to crave for good. To nourish my body and to breathe.

She called me on my birthday; no one ever called me on my birthday. The next day she hugged me and turned my hurricanes to a whiff. Weeks after that she invites me to her birthday, pulling me away from my world as I accepted her hand paving paths for me to explore.
I flicked a few grainy pages ahead.

“Are you okay?” She said as she though she could smell the stench of it on me. As though she could see me drowning within myself. And in that moment I let her in, I broke the walls, I let them crash. I let the ocean erupt open through my pores. I let my rusty voice box to voice its cries. Even though I spoke in language that came natural to me; chaos. But she sat there listening patiently, and in that moment I wrote about how her ears were made of empathy, eyes of moonlight that made me feel lighter and blissed.

I watched her move with such zeal that I was mesmerized. She became my muse, my inspiration. So I undressed myself of self-loathing and set out to talk to people and explore. My bruised throat ringed and my chewed tongue wanted to speak. My hands wanted to write for my younger self that stayed quite all this time.

She breathed air into my collapsing lungs, became the brightest of hues in the world of my blues. I was a dead language and she pronounced me with life.

Here I am, a writer. All because of that compliment that left me to weave my sorrows, revertebratating the hope she gave me through my writing. Hoping to provide the same inspiration and passion she inspired me with. She restored the courage in my spine; the faith in my cells and the love into my heart that I tucked safely into inky words hoping someday someone feels the same.

I closed the book as I traced the last line, with a tear in my eye. How could’ve my trivial action have such a profound affect?

“It hurt. It hurt even more because you were close to me. It hurt because I cared about what you thought and said. You mattered to me, and that created a soft spot for you. But you left me. You betrayed me. You lied with the empty words. And you pushed me every time I came close with an act of care.
Now you say I am cold and emotionally distant. But that’s what I had to do to avoid being crippled by the emotional and mental wounds and scars, for I had enough. I am not a fool anymore; I know how this goes. Because every time I open up, all it does is hurt. So now every time you hurt me, the less I cry. Every time you leave me, the quicker these tears dry. And every time you walk out, the less I love you. Because every time it happens, the less you matter to me. So I am not going to let you close to me, even though you mean the most to me and I mean the most to you; in case you leave me in the dirt. Because the truth is baby, I am just protecting my innocence, heart, mind and soul now.”

"Having gone through it once did not mean it did not hurt the second time. It is painful, raw and heart-wrenching. But I know I am going to get through it. I know I have to invest in myself, the people who I love and love me back and invest in the things that make me feel better so that my past would not hold me captive. I know if I was to work for the better, I would be much happier with my present and would not go back to rekindle with my past as I would have accepted the suffering is part of the path of finding my strength and a better self."

- excerpt from an open letter

“The world is hurting” she said as she turned the globe around it’s axis, softly touching the dented countries in bloodshed. “Anguished souls, anguishing; bullied, bullying ;victims, victimizing; deceived, deceiving. Hurt people, hurting people. A tradition passed from generation to generation, raging violence and fueling feuds. Spreading disparity and singing the melancholy anthem. Scarring and withering the beauty of innocence in this world from a young age. A war of violence that seems to sear subtly and evidently in every corner of the world.  It’s a cycle that never seem to revolutionize for the better, but revolve - never transpiring.”

“A cycle that cannot be broken by itself, but by love” he said as he painted flowers on top of the countries masked in blood. “Choosing forgiveness instead of revenge. Meeting grimace with a smile. A pattern passed from generation to generation, a chain that can be broken when anger is met with contempt, cruelty with kindness, bitterness with sweetness. For love is the healer and love is the weapon.”

Don’t leave me for him. Don’t abandon our years of friendship for the man you just met. Don’t let him blind you to the extent I am invisible and deafen you to the degree my secrets no longer reach your ear.
But I guess my plead is too soft and late to be heard. Because now I am here clinging on to my heart and tasting the salty tears that roll down my cheeks. I am here reminiscing all the memories we made the time only the two of us spent together. My heart aches with every message you ignore and every outing you ditch me for him. You are fading, our friendship is withering and my loneliness is just deepening. You are my everything but it seems I am no longer yours anymore. You’re my first, but it seems I am no longer yours. For your secrets never find a way to my ear and time in my life.

- I never knew the inseparable could be separable

“I wanted to hold on to someone. But even my inner circle seemed far away. Some seemed to not care about what I had to say. My life seemed unstable just like the chemicals in my brain. I just wanted someone to care, to actually truly care about me. Maybe they did, but I couldn’t see it. Maybe they were there offering their support but I was too deaf to hear it. Too blinded and deafened by my own pain and loneliness. I feel I have nothing to hold on to. Nothing. No purpose. No motive. No one. And when there is nothing, you find there no purpose to breathe.”

Unfortunately you are not for everyone. Not everyone will like you. Not everyone will love you regardless of what you do and how nice of a person you are. Not everyone will vibe with your energy and not everyone will understand and support you.

Even though it is a bitter pill to swallow at times don't let it make a turmoil of your emotion and deplete your energy. Because your time and energy is so much more precious than exhausting yourself by shapeshifting to pander to the whims of others, moulding yourself to fit in every where and hence retaining no shape to call your own.

Choose not to sacrifice your uniqueness to succumb buttering up their bread. To Be selective with your energy by politely waving them goodbye to stand by your values and lifestyles that most deeply resonate with you. Choose to take social risks regardless of the awkward glances and haughty whispers. Choose to not care of what others think to the point it stifles your ability to take risks and disrupt your social satisfaction.

For there is nothing more liberating than to not waste your life allowing the faultfinders to dictate your actions. To seek to align your actions with your heart. To stand up for something, to do and believe what brings  content regardless of it being disliked. It is beautifully candor being your authentic self.

“He is the ocean in my life while I am a single drop in his. He is the sun in my sky while I am the breeze that goes by unnoticed. He is the moon that guides me at night, while I am nothing but the darkness in his life. Excitement pulsates when he texts, but not a pulse more when I text. For I am just like the other girls he talks to; just one of them when he is the only one for me. Happiness rushes through my veins and nerves feel a gentle tickle in his presence. I feel everything deeply; pain and happiness when it comes to him, while he feels nothing. Sacrificing, asking, encouraging, adjusting and compromising when it’s never the same. He never runs when I slip away, but I stay when he walks away. I feel like I am chasing him; on a constant run for him to care. But he doesn’t care about me, as much as I care about him; and that hurts deeply than I ever thought it would.”

- excerpt from an open letter

“Why do you love me?” she said loathing her soft-squeaky voice while she stared at the reflection that lay before her. Saddening with every inch of fat she noticed that left her feeling husky and plumb in comparative to all the other girls in her class that walked around confidently in their curvy and slender body. She stood there trying to **** back her flabby stomach and stoke her jaws with her thumbs harshly so that the underlying fat would just go away.

She ran her fingers along the dark curls of hers twisting them and despising them. Staring abhorrently at her honey-colored face that wasn’t fair as milk and therefore considered not beautiful. Pimples cracked upon her skin, making her despise every intracity of her body.

Her vision blurred as she would see her reflection, tears streaming down her heated pink cheeks as she stood upon the machine which defined her by a number; just like her grades that would define her mind.

“Why do you love me?” It was the question she would ask every person that would walk into her life and say the three words she was never able to tell herself. She wanted to know the details, when and how for the three words would leave her curious as to why they loved her because she never believed there was something likable about her. She never believed she was noticeable because she was invisible. She wanted to know because she was a soul longing to love herself.

“You know what hurts? The fact that you don’t want me the same way I want you. You don’t mind talking to me, but you don’t have the urge and want to talk to me anymore. You don’t mind having a conversation if I message, but you will never want to message. What hurts is that I can see it happening, subtly and gradually. I can see you losing interest in me. I can see those eyes wandering in search of someone else when once they were focused on me. I can feel the distance, I can see you fading.”

- Excerpt from an open letter

“No, You don’t know me” she said wiping the grin off his face. “You can’t say I am a nice person when you don’t know me. You don’t know about how I find darkness alluring. You don’t know of all the terrible things I’ve thought of to hurt people. You don’t know of my intentions or the moments I am manipulative, cold-hearted *****. I am not saying I am fake either; I am soft, kind hearted person who does care. But you don’t know of the darkness that exists within me. The darkness that I find so alluring that it drives me into doing insane hurtful things to myself and the people around me.” He stood still, not even flinching a muscle. “You scare me because of your positivity, hopes and dreams. They are are so fragile, bright and innocent that I am scared to break them. I am scared to drown you in depths of negativity and darkness. I am allured to the darkness in people because it’s darkness enwrapping darkness; comforting and understanding. With you, I feel the need to enclose the darkness within myself because I fear what it might do to you. I am a terrible person at times and you don’t want to be near me during those days because I will not give a **** about anyone and I will end up hurting you. So no I am not a nice person, I wish I was.”

The crescent moon has been sighted
Lantern of hope has been ignited.
Doors of mercy have been opened
And the devils have been chained.

It is the month,
Where clusters of sin await repentance
And good deeds worth are multiplied.

The month
In which we abstain from food
From dawn till dusk;
Empty stomachs
But tongue heavy from thikr.

A month
Enlightened with Allah's vast mercy
And extreme prosperity,
Tasting rewards
And bathing in immense blessing.

So choose to
Break mouldy habits
Reform the fabrics.
Reboot your entity
And Recharge your faith.

Choose to strengthen the backbone of your lives;
The pillars of Islam.
Recite the book that has been bonded with threads of faith
and encrusted with pristine words of Allah.

Choose to unshackle yourself
from the blackening shackles;
Untangle from messy mirage of the world
entwined with your wrist
And braid it into ladders to heaven.

Choose to join congregation at prayers
To pray to Allah seeking his affinity
Asking for forgiveness and pray for agility.

Choose to handle tough times with sincerity
And dig faith in one another.
For strength and forgiveness
can be found under his love
And this can be the month
That can bring you a step closer to Allah.

Hope is shrinking
Light is dimming
Walls are caving in
and everything seems to diffusing into blue.

It's all heavy and dark
draining and enveloping.

And all I want to do is put a pause on life
to make everything stop moving on
dragging me along with it
as the abyss is plunging me
in like a dark hole.

At times,
I find myself
tearing my fibers apart.
Picking out one neuron
from another,
and wrecking myself
from within.
To find,
the next morning,
I have been
built once more.
This time,
just differently.