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I’m Fighting My Demons and Winning Small Small

 24-11-25 I saw this tweet,   “The comeback won’t even be loud, it’s been such a humbling time at the bottom.” I thought the longest posting break I was going to take was the one where I didn’t post for two weeks. Now it feels like it’s been forever, and for the first time, I don’t even feel bad. I have had maybe not the craziest, but definitely the longest two or three months. I don’t know if I would say that I have been struggling, but I really have since I resumed school , and not necessarily in a bad way. But I think struggling is not a good thing either. While some of the best things have happened to me, I still don’t know how to balance everything yet. I feel like I didn’t post because I wanted to have control. 😭 I’d explain: I get very anxious, unnecessarily anxious in fact, and starting a blog helped me become comfortable. But I also think it made me more anxious because if I had not posted for two weeks, I would get this weird or heavy feeling in my chest, even thoug...
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Even Better Things Don’t Feel Like You.

  It’s only April, except it’s not only April. I don’t know how long  I’d keep mourning the idea of what we could have been. I’ve not been the same since last summer. Nothing has felt the same. “Same,” I mean, nothing has felt like you. Even better things, don’t feel like you, like us. I don’t know how many seasons  I’d keep packing  for a journey we’d never take.  How many mornings  I’d smile,  because I imagined the version of you   that would have been perfect for me. I’ve written you into poems, because my poems are pieces of me, makes me feel like you’re still a part of me. It’s funny, we never stood a chance. Still,  I have all these “what ifs”. They say you were not good for me. To be fair, I agree. But beneath everything, I always wanted it to be you. Maybe it could still be you. Maybe it would just take another universe, and a timeline kinder than this one. ~Hadiqah.O I wrote this poem on the 14th of April. Right now, I’m going throu...
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My arms are grieving too.

  It’s 12:21 a.m. Over forty minutes ago, I got the news that my friend is no more. I didn’t think I’d be writing now, at least not this soon. If you had asked me yesterday what my next post would be, I would’ve never imagined it would be a tribute. Not to an elderly person. Not to a distant acquaintance. But to my friend. My friend. My heart doesn’t feel heavy—maybe it’s too stunned to be. But my eyes ache from crying for over twenty minutes. Now I just feel…. You know when you don’t feel anyway because something is too much. I don’t know if I’ve even started to comprehend what I have just heard . I don’t even want to speak about her this way yet  I don’t want to speak about her now. I want to speak to her. 7:50 a.m. I just saw someone post: “You were kind to everyone around you.” Were? That word hit me. It doesn’t make sense. None of this does. 10:51 a.m. I saw she  was buried at 10 a.m. this morning. And just like that, it’s real. She really is gone. Writing has always...
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