Sometimes I can feel my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I’m not living.

I don't know if I'm me anymore.

Well, I'm not a poet; I'm just a woman.

Ever since I was a little girl I always knew I was tired.

My hands are full of unfinished dreams, each one slipping through my fingers before it learns to live.

Please God I don't want to go through this again, please I want to do it right once… just once.

Helplessness has wrapped its fingers around my soul.

بالنسبة لي ستبقى حبيساً هناك للأبد،
في الموقف الذي خذلتني فيه.

رمى كلمة في ثانية،
وما زلت منذ سنتين أصارع نزيفها.

Everyone blames me but for what?
Is it because I'm not okay?
Is it my choice that I'm not okay?

That pain in the chest while having an anxiety panic attack feels like someone's suffocating you to death.

You will survive but you will become someone else.

I love October when the veil between worlds is the thinnest.

October is Octobering.

“you're so calm” thanks I'm lowkey disconnected from reality.

I never wish to be easily defined. I’d rather float over other people’s minds as something strictly fluid and non-perceivable; more like a transparent, paradoxically iridescent creature rather than an actual person.