🍂 UNSENT MESSAGE'S 🪐

i’m impossible to place, i fit into no single category, i live in a constant battle with myself on what i am or what i should become, a battle in which no one version of me can win, because at the end of the day, my being is an amalgamation of every “me” there is and every “me” there will never be, but oh how i thirst for conclusion, for understanding where exactly i stand in the grand scheme of things, how desperately i seek a sign that i’ve made all the right decisions and am exactly where i’m meant to be, fully knowing that i will never find what i seek.

Walking alone means stripping away every beautiful lie society has sold you. It means facing truth directly without the comfortable noise of other people’s opinions drowning out your inner voice. And that’s exactly why solitude terrifies most people. But here’s the twist that’ll change everything you think you know about being alone. It’s where the deepest truths are born.

They maybe poor in heart but They are free as a bird

PART II I started watching closely on my dark ceiling and imagined him as a human being like me , Everything is new for him ..he's looking around with curiosity and fear on his face , my room is a mess ofc he won't like it , and it doesn't have any windows, any new air , and the smoke of my cigarette ruins the smell of my room , also there a lot of unwashed dishes, plastic bags I left everywhere after I ate what they have , it won't be exaggerating if I say public restrooms smell good if u compare it with my shoe he might hate all those things here ..ohh I forgot I have a yellow painted wall in the room my walls r dirtier than pedestrian floors how can this poor black ceiling stand all these and live with yellow wall , he might lose his own texture. I see the fear in his face , the fear of not knowing where he is , the fear of losing himself, the fear of being lost and he got no one to ask what is he doing here ? But he doesn't know he's here because of my choice. He's here because I wanted to see him . He's here because I don't want to blame my ceiling for being in the dark . He's here bcause my unknown mind part wanted him . Perhaps He didn't want to be the part of this , I just dragged him in without his choice. Now i understand The reason for my existence in this unproper place , my existence in this miserable life , my existence in this unexpected moment , and my existence in this goddamn place of mine all over the odds wasn't my goddamn choice 💔. So what if I refuse to be here ? Why should I suffer by the things that I didn't bring ? Why should I stop everything here? I wonder what will happen after that .

❓ How could I come here ? In all of those odds how can I be here in this place , in this moment, in this situation..in this miserable life ? Yea that's what I ask in the middle of the night staring at nothing but the ceiling that I got . All I see is darkness perhaps the ceiling that I have was clean white that can represent an angle ,but it couldn't fight and win the darkness and make things clear to see . Or maybe I chose to see the darkness while I have the chance to stand up and turn on the lights.. and blaming all on my white ceiling cuz I'm tired of standing up and turning the lights on . Whatever 🤷‍♀ Now my question isn't about darkness or white ceiling my question is why am I here ? Ohh shit this white ceiling is bothering me , if he can't lighten up my room why should I hv it , I should change it into black one 🤔 that might work at least I won't expect my room to be bright while I'm having black ceiling. 2nd day As I always do i lay down on my bed and started doing the same as yesterday asking why tf I'm in this mess? And keep staring on my black ceiling, now I have it and I don't have to blame my ceiling for not seeing any light cuz it's black ...if I want light in should get it not expecting from damn ceiling. Still asking why am I here ? And something clicks in my head ..

Some ppl have a lot.. yet they’re still poor. Not poor in money -> poor in heart. They take love but never give it back. They want ppl to understand them but never try to understand others. They want someone to stay but never ask how much that person is hurting. And one day, everyone gets tired. They leave quietly. No big goodbye. No hate. Just silence. That’s when the self centered person finally learns the truth: You can have the whole world around you and still be the loneliest person in it. Because the poorest ppl aren’t the ones with nothing. They’re the ones who had love and never knew its worth... Ahhh how poor r they 💔

I dreamed a thousand new paths to set my soul free of the things that are slowly turning me into ashes….things that I loved so deeply that I can’t even see their roots anymore.…things that burn my body with passion and grief at the same damn time. But I wake up and repeat the same old path that stopped growing flowers long ago.

There is a peculiar weariness in losing an illusion you already knew was false. You mourn it, feel ashamed for mourning it, then grow tired even of the shame. The cruel part is not that dreams die. It is knowing some quiet part of you saw the ending from the beginning and still chose to believe.

What is truly great never belongs to us. beauty, freedom, even happiness they pass through our hands like light. And still we close our fists.

All my life, my heart has sought a thing I cannot name. Remembered line from a long- forgotten poem

𝙏𝙧𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙞𝙨𝙣'𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙠 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚'𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙩𝙧𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙙 . 𝙄 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙪𝙨. 𝙒𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙨' 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙚𝙢𝙥𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙮 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙤'𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙨𝙤 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙖 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙚... 𝙤𝙛𝙘 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙚𝙢𝙥𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙮 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙙𝙖𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙮 𝙮𝙤𝙪. 𝙏𝙧𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙛𝙖𝙞𝙧. 𝙎𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙚𝙢𝙥𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙮 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛, 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙢𝙨, 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙪𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨, 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙨. 𝘾𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢. I still couldn't understand the curse 𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙧𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙙𝙣'𝙩 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙙𝙤, 𝙬𝙚'𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙤'𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙜𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙫𝙚, 𝙬𝙚'𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙟𝙪𝙙𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙬𝙚'𝙧𝙚 𝙂𝙤𝙙. 𝙋𝙪𝙩𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙚𝙡𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙖 𝙡𝙤𝙩 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙣'𝙩 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧. 𝙋𝙪𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙢𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛𝙛. 𝙉𝙤𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣. 𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙛𝙪𝙡 𝙞𝙨𝙣'𝙩 𝙞𝙩? 𝙄𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙘𝙧𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙘𝙖𝙣'𝙩 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙣𝙤 𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙥𝙧𝙖𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪! 𝙒𝙝𝙮? 𝙒𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙝𝙮 𝙬𝙚'𝙧𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨, 𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛𝙞𝙨𝙝, 𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙤𝙜𝙖𝙣𝙩, 𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙘𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙘, 𝙥𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙘 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘽𝙐𝙇𝙇𝙎𝙃𝙄𝙏 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨... 𝙖𝙨𝙠 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚'𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙨. 𝘼𝙣𝙙, 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙤 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙄 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚... 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙥 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙞𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙨 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪.

Maybe the strangest thing about loving someone is how much of them eventually lives inside your own head. We call it a bond, which makes it sound like something stretched between two people, some invisible rope with a knot at either end. But I’m not sure it works that way. After enough time, especially after distance, you begin to notice that the person you miss is partly a collection of things you have kept, the way they laughed at something stupid, a sentence they probably don’t remember saying, the look on their face one particular afternoon. Memory becomes their apartment. You keep visiting. Then memory starts doing what memory does. It edits. It fades around the edges. Sometimes it improves people. Sometimes it puts words in their mouths. And slowly the rope feels thinner. We don’t like admitting this, so we maintain the old ceremonies. We say I’ll always be here. We call. We ask how life is going. We behave as though affection, friendship, duty, good manners, whatever name we give it, can keep two inner worlds permanently connected. Maybe sometimes they can. I don’t know. But there are nights when it seems embarrassingly obvious that nobody has ever really climbed inside another person. We meet everyone through ourselves. Their voice enters our ears, their face enters our eyes, their sadness passes through whatever machinery we happen to have inside us, and what comes out is our version of them. Even love has to pass through there. That may be the cruel part. Or maybe the beautiful part. I keep changing my mind. A person can sleep beside you for twenty years and still have a room in themselves where you have never been invited. You can know the history, the scars, the favorite drink, the stupid joke they tell when they’re nervous, and still misunderstand the one thing they were trying to tell you. We spend our lives reaching across that distance anyway. Perhaps that is what intimacy really is not the disappearance of loneliness, but two people briefly convincing each other that the distance can be crossed. And maybe we need the illusion. Because the alternative is to admit that every one of us is carrying this strange locked room called the self, walking through the world knocking on other doors, hoping somebody hears something familiar on the other side.

The truth is uglier than the moralists will ever admit, and far simpler. We do not worship money because we are wicked. We worship it because it is the only god with the decency to answer

People call it maturity. I call it surviving things I was too young to understand.