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An atonement to Mr. Liber

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Dearest,   ​ I know it’s been eons since I last sat down for a cup of tea and a conversation. You haven’t blamed me, you understood even though my excuses were unacceptable, and I knew  that I’ve immensely hurt you with the neglection throughout the past years. I passed by you yesterday when I was looking for company , for a  friend . You were there with all your authentic glory, standing among others in an aura of  honour  and wisdom. I miss   you, I admit, I miss you beyond the league of my comprehension.  You were there from the moment I opened my eyes on the world, you guided me throug h,  and when I felt  the weight of the world on my shoulders  at times ,  you were there to pick up the pieces   and I will subconsciously forever  be  grateful for your efforts to help a n adrift  girl. I’ve failed you though,  by re turn ing  your acts of graceful kindness   with  abandonment. I left you  forlorn  at the first opportunity  I got ,   and  w ent along with

Ça va bien..

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I’m alright. I’m always alright but I never am. You can ask me how my day was and I’ll tell you it was alright, but I never really mean it. I’m alright is my saviour phrase. I won’t have to explain the feelings that are buried down a good depth. I won’t be forced to empty my mind and heart in a long rant that you’ll end with:  “you’ll be alright”. I’m alright saves me the trouble of looking into eyes full of pity. It saves others from the sense of obligation, that they need to help a person that is not alright. I’m alright is a short sentence that carries much more depth. It’s a camouflage, a cover for the battle you’re hiding inside. It filters who gets to share the big war with you, as a soldier and a companion, and who gets to stay on the sidelines, cheering, or from another perspective, jeering. I’m alright is not something I use to describe how I am but rather how I hope I’ll be. It’s a silent promise that keeps me going on. A small thread of hope t

Stupendously lit

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I sat underneath the stars that night, wrapped in the dire blanket of loneliness. The stars shook the sky with all their glowing auras that I’m sure the planets served them a respectful standing ovation. It was beautiful but silent. I wasn’t sitting alone, but my heart felt the void that couldn’t be contained. It is strange how one revolting yet deadly inaudible feeling could dominate all its fellow peers. I was scared. I kept my eyes up, an attempt to avoid the scrutinising gazes around me. They weren’t staring, yet they were. Those stares that couldn’t be detected are the reason why I run, why I escape. It’s beautiful up there. No worries, no fears, just the serenity and the calmness that surround the galaxy. Perhaps they’re why the stars shine so vividly bright. An hour has passed, and the masses of people are still increasing. Loud and suffocating is how the situation is. Screaming and running is what I want to do, yet I stay in a hushed position for the stars are too pr

The golden yarn

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It’s 1:00 AM now, thoughts are running a million miles an hour in my mind. The clock’s ticking is infuriating yet astonishingly soothing. I work my way out of the safety of the duvet to subconsciously sit at the table with a cup of tea that serves as a heater to my corpse like freezing hands. I try not to let my eyes linger on the picture hung on the wall right beside me. It exists in a glaring manner, as if silently disapproving my choices. It’s 2:00 AM now, the picture is still there, and I’m itching to run away from its scrutinizing gaze. It’s me, with a massive smile etched to my face which you could hear its echoing giggles if you tried. My shoulders were sagged due to the lack of the never-ending stress, and my eyes were bright due to the absence of caffeine. It wasn’t taken long ago, or perhaps it was, but the memory of it is still carved deep down and I can’t help but smile at the faint traces of it. It’s 2:34 AM now, but I’m still lost in my train of thoughts.

A chum.

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credits go to my beautiful best-friend Raneem for this lovely picture 💗 Sometimes all you need is a friend. Someone who’s always there to listen to your pointless rants. Someone willing to go the extra mile just to see you smile amidst the obstacles life throws your way. A friend is someone who understands you without you uttering a word, someone who knows where the beginning of your train of thoughts is and where it’s destined to stop. A friend may be a person, a book or a cup of tea. A person who immensely cares about you, and feels a great sense of euphoria at your minute successes before you humongous ones. A person who sits besides you and listens to you during the holy hours of night when the world is softly snoring and dreaming away. A person who’s there to motivate you when nobody’s watching, and there by your side cheering you on when the world recognizes you. Maybe a book, which consumes your sadness and turns it into treasured happiness. A book which absorbs

An epistola for you.

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Dearest,             It’s time I write to you another letter which will never reach you. I haven’t written in so long, so no matter how profusely I apologise; it’ll never do your soul justice.  I miss you. I miss you more than the human ability to endure the feeling of loss. It’s been years now. I’m on the verge of hitting my second decade here on the Earth. I’ve always wished that you’ll be here, witnessing every step of the way and bombarding me with your advices that I’ve never forgotten. I grew up, and I wasn’t cut out to fit this grown up life. I want to return in time only to stay there. It was so much simpler and bearable. I want the small gestures that made my day back. I don’t want to be the one responsible for initiating them. I want to be taken care of, just as young me once was, not the one who holds a heavy load of responsibility on her shoulders. I grew up my dear, and I don’t like it. Today, I stumbled upon your number. I wanted to hit the call button s