Confessions from a poet's heart

With some, we laugh.

With some, we forget time.

But I think with some, we find those pieces of ourselves we didn't even know we'd lost.

The confines of my mind are playing tricks on me once again; they confuse memories with mistakes, just because those words start with the same letter.

This story is not about asking for happiness,

it's about just a little less pain. This story is not about being tired of making efforts,

this story is about the world righting itself.

I am slowly learning that I am terrible at finding the right words to describe moments.

It's an ironic experience,

this getting distracted by you,

this getting distracted by the idea of you,

this idea that there exists a tomorrow for us.

Once in a while, in the middle of life, I try to forget the expectations and responsibilities. Tonight, I walk under the stars, I fall for the moon again and set out to carve the road lying ahead myself, because it is okay. It is okay to get lost while searching for myself.

Sometimes you ask me how I'm doing, and I cannot bring myself to tell you that I'm losing sleep, that I'm falling head first into a mess of uncertainties, so I tell you that I'm not scared of the dark.

The air around us is full of thoughts to acknowledge and things to say, all the permutations and combinations of words just waiting to be said out loud. But to explain how we are better when not together, will our silence suffice?

When someone asks you what difference did you make, tell them that you managed to live and smile on those days when even survival was a task.

how can there be an end when, there are yet so many beautiful beginnings to be a part of?