I wish I could drown the cyclone.
I wish I could end the cycle.
I wish I could scare my Fears and invite Hope more often.
Tensed muscles and overcrowed headspace.
Lies became the only truth.
Survival instincts are killing the being.
Cortisol level too high.
Peace level too low.
Running away from the warmth of discussions,
While the mind is confined in hypothermia alone.

Thoughts are crying, but silence is screaming.

Dying, yet living.





I never saw the holes in the grass.
As I fell in, I lost my sight.
I could not differentiate my brown eyes from the soil’s colour.
My compass broke.
My hands were only good at shaking.
Voices were absent, yet the silence was thunderous.

It isn’t the first time, but it always feels like it.
Like the wind turned its back on me,
Like the air ran away,
Like the light stopped believing in its brilliance and left me with its greatest enemy.



I am running in the same circle again.

The same thoughts,

The same obsessions,

The same fears.

I am writing again,

With the same pain,

Through the same struggle,

With the same ink.

Another night,

Laying on a bed,

Oppressed by the same ghosts,

Afraid of the same future.

I always messed up.

Why do I always mess up?

No shame is healthy

But since when have I ever thought positively.

Failures still wound my soul deeply.

Mistakes still shake my self-esteem profoundly.

Help me, I am lost at sea.



Yesterday, I invited my friends to one of the dark rooms.

They made me look at the window enough to make me feel as if those walls were fake.

"But they are not," I reminded myself the morning after their visit.

Today, I woke up alone in one of these rooms,

Without the joy of last night shared with amazing souls.


And my heartbeat kept racing,

My thoughts kept torturing me,

so I lay on my bed crying.


I want to feel freedom while looking at the windows.

But freedom doesn't want me.

I can't shut down the thoughts,

I can't stop myself from feeling guilty for all of my actions.

Somehow, I am having a hard time loving myself.