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Jul 2019
Today I visited the town we first met
It felt strange and persuasively calming,
I mean i wanna say i feel happy by the familiarity of the overall (seeing the landmarks, those tiny colored waterfalls near the mall back when i was a kid, my not so favorite school, all those aligned streets in slick rythem that led me home every time I thought I lost track) but see it surprisingly hurts because all I could think about when the sun hits my eyes is how i can blindly remember the way to your front lawn as if it was mine.
It hurts because I know i can drag my feet to your home in this right very second, I could find you in a pitch black evening by the way your feet strikes the earth, and I’d catch up to you and I’d tell you about how I’ve been since you blocked me from your contact list and how i now prefer iced coffee over hot drinks and how i no longer drink orange juice because it causes me heartburn and my well to live curls up in fragile shells and under my finger nails like small rice i hate it because I’m my own wide awake walking ******* menace.
and I miss you.
The thought of you missing a year worth of new findings and updates makes me linger on meals, and under cold showers; because all i wanna do is tell you how it turns out I’m allergic to hair dye, and henna, and pretty much any outsider element that touches my skin for more than thirteen minutes in total.
How I like my new short burnet hair, and that my sister had her first babygirl which makes feel old and I still don’t know if I love it or hate it yet.
and that I grew found of  black coffee, and
how badly i want to adopt a cat as if my life depends on it.
And I AM Angry.
I’m ******* because I wanna ask you how you doing, and how your life away from me been treating your codependency, has it mend you well,
Has my broken glass of memory still hunts your comfort zone.
i want to let you know I still like my Oreos and cereal with cold milk, and I like the way music hold me right back from the end edge of living every night after two thirty in the morning.  and how much i hate how the moon is plain still, and is not as everlasting and it makes me teary eyes for a quarter of a second, and the weather treats my mental health,
I’m ****** because I feel prisoner in my own bone cells and mind frame, and body image and people’s ******* expectations.

I render my mind games into hoping some kinda nature element manipulate you to text me back or persuade you enough to withdraw
Baby, if I’m still in a place to call you that,  if i told you I’m at our favorite place in town would you meet me half way?
because I am really sick of being an afterthought.
Noura abdulla
Written by
Noura abdulla  24/F/Middle East
(24/F/Middle East)   
684
   Bogdan Dragos
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