Sky inspired me
Beauty is not in meeting standards of society. Beauty is being urself. This is what the sky teaches us. It stays the way it wants and we find it beautiful.
It is always late September in my room
The seasons keep changing outside, but in my room, it is always late September. A strange, stretch of time: neither summer nor yet winter. Just a long inhale that never gets to be exhaled. There’s only one portal to the outside world: a tiny window. It lets in slivers of light, moments of wind, just enough to remind me that the world is still alive. Just enough to keep me informed that it moves on with or without me. What about the door, you might ask? The door is not for me to use. It’s too much of an opening. Too much air, too many possibilities. Too much exposure. If I opened it, the fragile insect that’s been growing inside me for some time, that secret, that feeble trembling being, might not survive. This insect is strange. It keeps me sane and drives me mad at the same time. I don’t know if it’s my conscience, or my soul. But I do know this, it throws a new tantrum every day. And oddly, each tantrum gives me a reason to live just one more day. It thrives in the dampness of autu...