I don't want to have to be the one who mourns everything when everyone else has clearly forgotten. It's mortifying. It's mortifying to be the one who remembers.

I rebel, I don't want to be a person anymore.

Not even dostoevsky can romantacize what I've been thru.

Nothing happens here except that I write and write, and curse and burn.

Suicide is prepared within the silence of the heart, as is a great work of art.

Ohhhhh!

My pretty angel 🤍🤍🤍

Sometimes you gotta make yourself drink water and sit in direct sunlight, like some kind of wilted houseplant.

I was looked at, but I wasn't seen.

My god, will I ever not be surprised by what I can survive?

There is a kind of loneliness that comes from being with people. The kind that is more about a recognition of the failure of communication. The gaps.

I have survived, but I have not been spared.

Watching my youth slip away .

Over and over again, I have had to conquer infinite hopelessnesses.

I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.

دفنتُ أشياءَ كثيرةً بداخلي
إلى درجةٍ أني لا أعلم
أيٌ مِنها يُعذبني الآن.