Almost Poetry: Writing

The soft scratch of the pen on the paper
Soothing, like
Two hands on your shoulders
Kneading away the tension
Only
It’s your mind.

The acrid smell of ink
mesmerizing, like
Old whiskey you sniffed in secret behind your parents’ back
Only
You still get drunk.

The formed words
like souls,
Pulling you in,
Spitting them out
Only
They got a part of yours, too.

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Almost Poetry: Smile

Wake up in the morning
Look at the mirror and smile.
Smile not because you have to
But because you woke up.
Stretch and shower
And scroll down Tumblr or Facebook and smile.
Smile not because they told you to,
But because it’s another day.
Wear soft clothes and treat yourself to your favourite food.
Wear some make up or not and smile.
Smile not because you put your mask on,
But because you’re beautiful
And smart
And kind
And a good student
Or a good parent
And creative
And hardworking
And successful
Or not
And persistent
And courageous
And who you are
And smile
Smile not because you have to pretend it’s okay,
But because tomorrow is a new day
and you’ll keep going.

PS: pictures of cute cats and dogs always help XD

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Almost Poetry: Mirrors

The thing about looking yourself in a mirror isn’t about washing your face or shaving your beard or putting on makeup.

It isn’t about spotting all those new freckles on your nose or that new pimple that is still soft and tender or making sure that hickey is hidden.

Looking yourself in the mirror isn’t about seeing your eyes red and puffed and swollen after you’ve cried to the break of dawn just because or checking the angles of your chin that you think they don’t flatter you, reimagining, redesigning, wishing.

It’s not even about those times your reflection talks back to you, mocking, smirking, blaming you while you do nothing but stand there on shaky legs and sobbing breath and scream and scream and scream on the inside and nobody hears a thing.

The thing about looking yourself in the mirror is to remind yourself that you’re there, too. That you are like everyone else. Your whole life you’ve been looking through your eyes all day long, going through the automatic motions that you’ve learned to repeat day after day, hour after hour, seeing a world in which you are the audience as much as the center, the point of reference. It can make you forget that you, too, are there.

Because the thing about looking yourself in the mirror is to remind you about your physical existence; one face among millions. Similar but not alike. Not special but oh so different in every single aspect that makes what you are, you. That no matter what, those eyes will be there with you to meet you back, red, haunted, alive.

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