17. An aspiring writer. A tad judgmental. A lover of words.
I'm not much of a preacher. I seldom give advice. After all, it's not like my life is a prime example of success. Nevertheless, I feel compelled to hand out a dose of the gratitude message to you.
We are a family ripped apart by death. To call us a family would be a gross overstatement. We are three beings, tied loosely by a common name and home, oblivious to each others’ existence.
A shuffling of feet. A slurp of strong, black, bland tea. A clearing of the throat. A sea of black. A cough. A sneeze. A whimper. A funeral.
The worst type of crying is when you don't know why you're crying. When the world feels like its shattering its way all down your shoulders and you have no idea why.
It's the strangest thing.
There's a certain chill unique to empty houses. Even when you're in Cairo's notoriously warm April.
I'm tired of not knowing who I am. I know that sounds strange and weird and twisted but, believe me, it's unintended.
After every stab to the heart, you tell yourself that you're never going to hope again. You're never going to wish again.
Somewhere along the way, someone, or a group of people instructed us that it is possible to feel okay all the time.
I want to write for me. I want to write for the sake of writing. For the sake of expressing. For the sake of providing an outlet to my plethora of emotions. I want to write because words are...
Embrace the day. Savor the sunshine. Smile. If even for a second. Pretend, if need be, that you're happy today.
...that life doesn't end at high school. That you'll have the world to look forward to once you're done.
I fear a life of constant soul-searching. A life of constant 'I'm-not-in-the-right-place-now-but-I-will-be's. A life in limbo..
...long. To long for something you sometimes don't even know. And if you do know, to miss is to endure an endless series of punctures to the heart.
Do you ever get the feeling That we're starting in the middle. Have you ever had the sense That we've been lying just a little. I mean, come on... It's not like we've known ourselves that long...
I fear growing up alone. I fear regretting the things I've done. I fear regretting the things I haven't done. I fear losing everyone I love. Again. I fear letting down everyone.