Whenever I want to write something or anything, I tear a paper at the back of my notebook. When I tear a paper from a notebook, it is always teared imperfectly. There’s always small parts of the paper that is left on its spine. Anyway, I won’t write something that important. I would just fill it with signature practices, scribbles and letterings of my name, draw anything and feel like an artist, math equations, song lyrics, romantic confessions, and any thought that would pop out of my mind. After consuming most of its space, I will crumple it and throw it in the trash.

But, what are these papers really for?

It’s for you to write your dreams, your desires, and your unfinished starts. But, it’s not for you to crumple and throw in the trash. It’s for you to keep, think deep, and live.

*(this is actually not a poem, i'm sorry)

there are things
that cannot be compared
there are people too

Your name is what you are

matchless
glorious
perfect

You,
cannot be compared because

Your name is God

I wish we could choose what memory to remember,
so that every night sadness won't crawl down to my cheeks.
If we could really choose?
I will choose the memories that I'm hurt
Because I know that those were the happier ones
Somebody just got to choose a decision

I wish we could choose not to hurt someone,
so that every night, hurt won't crawl up to my mind.
If we could really do so,
What will you choose?