some days i wake up as someone new my reflection feels unfamiliar like a character i have to relearn i do not have a stable outline i am sketch and eraser at the same time my emotions arrive without knocking too loud too sharp too bright joy feels electric love feels consuming sadness feels fatal…

she has consumed me or maybei invited her in i have become her shadowfollowing her silencelearning her stillness it began as a search for peacefor stabilityfor something that felt like sanity i thought i was protecting myself but in the process i left things behind people i cherishedplaces that once felt alivepieces of myselfthat knew…

i just hope that at some point in your life when the noise finally quietswhen there is no one left to distract you you close your eyes and the first thing that rises from the dark is me not gentlynot sweetly but suddenly my faceuninvited my voiceechoing in a room you thought you emptied my…

she was readyor at least she told herself she was ready to forget him she knew it was time all the joysthe tormentsthe laughterthe unnecessary tears his jokeshis warmthhis indifference the almosts the wounds that arrivedright when she expected softness the songsthe drawingsthe lettersthe hugs the misunderstood signs everything that shapedthat story the one she…

you and i both knowhow it happened how it slowly unfolded you knew i stared at you you knew i liked talking to you you knew that if you needed somethingi would give it to youeven if it left me with nothing you knew it hurtto hear you speak about someone else and you still…

i am trapped in a world a world unknown to me what is truewhat is uncertain the lightthe darkness the goodthe bad happinesssadness everything feels interchangeable when you trustthey hurt you when you do not trustyou hurt yourself either waythe damage arrives i wrap myselfin a vicious circle round and round no exit signno pause…

i remember telling you oncethat i would stop writing about people people who somehowalways end up hurting me hurting me enoughto make me crythe kind of crythat feels like grief regrettablythose people become important i see them every dayi talk to themand slowlywithout noticingthey become part of my routine my day to day i get…

when she met him she was already crackedalready carrying too much silence aloneachingtrying to survive her own thoughts he smiledand it felt like rescue he huggedand it felt like shelter he caredor at least he performed it well she trusted himhis wordshis promises she believed him every sentence he spokebecame scripture his smilea miracle his…

When I saw you i fell in love but you did not so i began negotiating with myself i changed my attitudesoftened my edgeslowered my volume i changed my hairmy clothesthe way i walked into rooms i changed my mannersmy routinemy favorite things i edited my wordsfiltered my thoughtsreshaped my laughter little by littlei convinced…

be honesteven when it would be easier to stay quiet be understandingbecause everyone is carrying something unseen be loyalnot only to othersbut to your own values be truthfuleven when your voice shakes be open mindedlet the world be bigger than your assumptions be thoughtfulwith your wordsthey live longer than you think be considerateempathy is a…

today is one of those nightswhen everything loses its meaning one of those nightswhere i stare at the ceilingas if it might answer meas if cracks in the paintcould form explanations one of those nightswhere i search for reasonsfor justificationsfor something that makes the ache make sense one of those nightswhere my heart keeps beatingbut…

sometimesit is good to close your eyes and think about the peoplewho are no longer herethe ones we know are not coming backat least not in the way we once held them when i dothere is this quiet warmthlike sunlight through closed curtains it feels like they are still aroundwatching over mestanding somewhere just beyond…

there is an old chinese legendabout an elderly womanwho walks through the world at nighttying red string around people’s pinkies. at the other end of each threadis the person they are destined to meet.no matter the distance.no matter the time.no matter the chaos in between. i look at my own hands sometimesand imagine the string.…

i am the kind of person who can build galaxies out of crumbs.give me a word and i will stretch it into a paragraph.give me a dot and i will swear it is a constellation waiting to be named. i have always loved meaning.i dissect tone, pauses, the way someone says “okay.”i read between lines…

Thanks for visiting my humble abode here were my words take shape where my mind runs free and memories reminice welcome and share some saudade with me. “The grass is greener where you water it” – Neil Barringham