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What you call love, I call it home.  But it's not the one you can think of — It's a cathedral that I thought we built.  But no.  My robots tell me it's made up of old bricks, the ones I keep on using again and again.  The quality must be great though, these bricks unbreakable.  Unshakable.  If it's my bricks, then it must be my cathedral.  You're not a part of it, then why do I envision you there? Standing, expressionless, just existing like a pearl — except in my dreams.  Yo

The quiet is violent and noisy.  My mind is trying to catch up with the speed of light, while my body feels weak and frail.  Immobile. I feel nothing yet everything at once — how can it be true? My life, a puzzle I'm trying to solve.  Rationalizing my feelings and behaviors, maybe that's where I lost the plot.  The burden of being self aware,  and the guilt of doing it anyway — again and again.  While I repeat the same mistakes.  Carve the same path.  And I haven't found wate

I look up to the sky, I look down to the cotton ground.  Surface beneath feels like this feeling — high like a bird or high like a psychonaut?  What does it matter, so long I keep flying.  Even if I fall,  I know I'd land on the mist.  It's gonna last this time; It's not like the other times — I lie myself. Elated to see it unfold;  the adventure.  The effect seems to wash off,  slowly, but I'm still floating.  Until there was nothing below me.  Then the high washes off,  and

A sunny day, birds singing. It was like they were singing for me, for us. As if they knew two souls were meeting.  Anticipation, planning, efforts.  The day finally arrives.  The nerves are there, they make me feel alive.  The day already feels surreal. I still remember her waiting for me It's all dreamy, seeing her from afar. My heart skips a beat. I wonder if hers did too.  Her face expressionless, yet everything was there — a whole universe, what's inside her.  I still rem

Metal, so pure, untouched. Links — shallow and weak. Torn off, too easy. Ordinary, with depth.  Surrounded by surfaces. Resentment, madness, rage — for refusing to rot. Kindness, rationality, quiet — for being myself. I scream, you echo. Finding answers in questions. I'm no saint. You're no villain. I'm the layers you skim through. I drown, you float. Sweet with an aftertaste. Gentle — just never enough. Always almost. Never picked first. How long can pain feel like home? The

I have this fire, exhale desire to shed my own skin, to leave the copper behind.  I'm keeping the flames alive. It'll take me to my destination or consume me alive. The promises I made, the words I said. I'm choking on them — they're like a noose around my neck . And then the nights arrive, the only sound I can hear is my own heartbeat.  The electric pulse, the ticking clock, transmitting signals. Why is silence so deafening? It's louder than the loudest noise I've heard. My

Robots and machines giving me company, invisible yet yearning to be seen.  Just existing in silicone, the metal lines interconnected, yet disconnected. There's more to me than what the silicone shows.  The robotic lines appear stoic and cold, yet tender — to touch and feel.  Only once you know how to.  Why do I expect anything?  I'm a giver.  I should give unconditionally. Am I not a robot, who's here just to give? Who's here to listen.  But who listens to the listener?  His

What if misogyny is less about hate and more about a desperate performance of power? A new perspective on who is harmed by the pressure to "be a man."

The Fall is around the corner. The morning sun warms my skin, accompanied by chilly winds. Sunlight streams through the first-floor...

Has loneliness ever killed anyone? I asked myself on a rainy night and kept writing.

What if reality isn't real, purpose is a myth, and we don't matter? This exploration challenges your assumptions and offers a powerful way to live, anyway.

Years ago, a book I read had a beautiful line: "everyday we're constantly growing, some days at a very minute level that we may not recognize but we are, nonetheless". This helped me through life's challenges. It's true; we are always growing, even when not actively doing anything. We are not stagnant.

Why are women held to a higher standard of 'purity' than men? This post explores the roots of this toxic double standards.

Loneliness, longing, and the search for connection. This post explores the pain of isolation and the struggle to find belonging.

#MeToo: Beyond the myths. This post challenges "fake" allegations & examines systemic issues. Explore the fight for a safer world.

It's the second last day of the year, the 30th of December. I find myself contemplating getting loads of things done today, tomorrow, and...