I won’t be sad. Not today. Today, I am someone else—someone reborn. The mirror no longer reflects the girl who once carried silence like a stone in her chest. Instead, it shows a woman with flowers sewn into her hair, each bloom a memory I’ve chosen to keep. Tiny ladybugs rest on my skin, sipping gently from the warmth I’ve learned to offer. Even they know: I’ve become a garden. There was a time when petals grew wild inside my ribcage, tangled and aching, pressing against bone. I kept them hidden, afraid their beauty would be misunderstood. But now, I’ve … Continue reading I Won’t Be Sad: A Chronicle of Becoming

Amidst the whispers of time, I unearthed my roots—hidden in old files, books, and relics that bore silent witness to lives once lived. Inked trails of ancestors stitched together my lineage through letters, recipes, and faded photographs. Rusted chains and cursed objects spoke of pain and resilience, pressing their weight upon my heart, urging remembrance and honor. In the East, where the sun rises with ancient wisdom, I found echoes of my spirit. The sea, once a vessel of torment, now cradled my history. Its salty embrace carried memories of voyages and lives traded like commodities. On its shores, I … Continue reading Roots Unearthed

In one day, your heart will beat over 100,000 times—each thump a quiet testament to your existence, a rhythm that never asks for applause yet powers your every moment. In that same day, you’ll produce about 2 liters of saliva, a strange but humbling reminder that even the smallest functions keep you alive and connected to the world around you. Your heart will pump about 2,000 gallons of blood, tirelessly circulating life through your veins, a silent engine of resilience. In one day, someone will take their first breath—lungs expanding with the promise of beginnings, of stories yet to be … Continue reading The Magic of One Day

Words that speak to knowing who I am,Words that speak to discovering who you are.I fall in love when asked what is interesting about me.I fall in love when you’re beneath me,Your skin touched by my hands. I fall in love with tired eyes, worried eyes, anxious eyes.I fall in love with fierce eyes,Made intense by the madness that lives within.I fall in love with the madness—The storm that dwells, never tamed,But ridden out with expertise. I fall in love with wild horses I can never ride,But who instead show me where to go.I fall in love with restlessness,Revealed in … Continue reading I fall in love with words

Please be gentle with me. I carry the anger of fallen angels, carefully tucked away behind the memories I’d rather forget. My silence mirrors the calm before a hurricane, and today, I feel like a category 4 storm brewing within. If you’re reckless, take heed: I am a red button, accidentally pressed, morphing into a nuclear war. But beneath this tempest lies fragility—a delicate existence akin to coffee stains on a cherished wooden table, stubbornly refusing to fade away. So, when you touch my soul, be soft, be tame, be tender. For I am everything or nothing—a fragile human being … Continue reading Be Gentle

Let us walk this world, you and I — not as wanderers lost, but as explorers of the sacred woven into the fabric of each day. Side by side, we’ll journey into the heart’s quiet chambers, comparing what we’ve come to understand with what still eludes us. And when the answers slip through our fingers like sand, we’ll collapse gently into the mystery, unafraid of the unknown. We are pilgrims in a land of prismatic doors, each one waiting to be opened. With reverence, we’ll savor every realization that steps through, honoring the moment it arrives. We’ll be life’s devoted … Continue reading Pilgrims of the Everyday Sacred

There was a time when I fell in love—not with a person, but with words. Words that peeled back the layers of self, that whispered secrets of understanding and connection. They didn’t shout; they caressed. They reached into the quiet corners of my being and pulled out truths I hadn’t known I was hiding. In asking what made me interesting, I found not an answer, but a mirror—one that reflected the beauty of curiosity and the sacredness of being seen. Love first revealed itself in the simplest gestures: the touch of skin, the warmth of hands. These moments, fleeting and … Continue reading Symphony of Love: A Chronicle

I saw a boy running once—his feet barely touched the ground, as if time itself had decided to play along his path. There was something magical in the way he moved, something that made me pause. I watched, and in that moment, I stepped into the stream of time. I’m not sure I ever took my feet out. The sun still shines on a highway I’ve never traveled. It glows with a promise I haven’t yet answered, a road that remains untouched but somehow familiar. Then I saw her—a woman preparing another soul. Her hands moved with quiet reverence, shaping … Continue reading The Chronicle of a Strange Force

I slip into your skin, a trespasser in the temple of longing. The air thickens, charged with anticipation—a prelude to the tempest that awaits. My fingers trace the contours of your existence, mapping constellations of secrets etched upon your canvas. Your skin—oh, your skin—is parchment for whispered confessions. Each pore, a wellspring of stories waiting to be inked. I read you like a sacred text, deciphering the hieroglyphs of desire. My eyes, those curious voyagers, drink from your wells of vulnerability. They savor the taste of vulnerability—the sweet ache of surrender. And then, our lips collide—a cataclysm of need. There’s … Continue reading Primal Instincts

Starvation is not simply the absence of food. It is the slow unraveling of the body’s dignity, the erosion of hope with every passing hour. It begins as a whisper in the stomach — a gentle reminder that something is missing. But as time stretches on, that whisper becomes a roar, a gnawing emptiness that consumes thought, energy, and spirit. The body grows heavy, not with strength, but with weakness. Limbs tremble from the effort of standing. Eyes glaze over, not from sleep, but from the absence of sustenance. The mind, once sharp and curious, becomes fogged with desperation. Hunger … Continue reading The Hollow Ache