i've been acting too strange now. there's this version of me that i can't even own. for years, i've been consoling this little heart of mine, that, i'm a strong woman. i've been tearing parts of myself and hoping that someone would glue them together for me. someone, i guess. but how can this 'someone' comfort me when i cannot be my own solace? how can i expect people to walk for me when my own legs are weak? no, zainab, for how long will you live on this silhouette of hope that has been haunting you every single night? seizing your peace and your smile. no. this can't be you. you, a person who didn't have the best clothes or the best car, yet you smiled and laughed like you had never been so rich. and by rich i mean that you knew, that, life, will always get you down, but you were brave; you were an admiration. to your friends, to your family. you fell down but never fell off the ring. you'll be that 'someone' i'll always envy.
i miss being 'you.'
-a note to self
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broken glass
Non-Fictionpearls of wisdom and amalgamation of thoughts that will make you question certain aspects of your life. every part discusses something different. i explore the helplessness of humans and talk with my conscience quite often. these words are for anyon...
