we fight for what we didn't see we fight what we don't want others to see, for things we have seen and other things we wish to see, we believe in a future that is not certain, and we believe in a past that is no longer present, we wish to become part of a bigger plan, but we don't know that the big plan has always been a part of our story , this life is as Short as it can ever be, if it were any longer we would have all murdered our self from the lack of sanity, if i had died younger would this life be better lived, if i had died sooner would it make the pain less felt, the memory i have is playing tricks on me, and nothing is as the way it had seemed to me, i wish i could sleep this year off, but i have no choice, as this war won't be won on its own, some of us were born warriors, not because we were born brave or strong, but because we inherited a battle we didn't wish to start, thus becoming warriors for a cause that is not our own, their love has made of us people of great potentials, and if it was true or not does not matter, as for their love we'll burn this world, and if we can not succeed we would die trying.

"Who would have thought" my dad said as his eyes filled with tears and his face glowing with a sparkle of joy, i didn't dare to tell him the truth, i didn't dare to tell it to anyone, that the voices had told me everything, that this life called me out of my comfortable home out into this wicked world, i knew that i would go away one day dad, but i didn't imagine it to be this painful, i was living a quit life when out of nowhere the voices called me out, "are you ready to make your dreams come true" they said with an evil smile, they vanished away, i looked at life and life looked back at me, she didn't say anything, but i felt it puling me there , pulling me in as i had no choice but to follow, when life has been planed all you do is follow, i was terrified that day, i didn't want to go, i was scared of leaving so i asked again, should i go ? are you sure that i should go, and it didn't respond it simply puled me in, and filled my soul with the idea "i must to go" not that "i want to go" or "i should go" but that i must , so i left, but life, now what, ever since i came you disappeared i don't hear the voices anymore, all i see is life from a distance, but life doesn't look back at me, you said you needed me life, you said i had to leave, that i had to get to where i am now, but i don't see how you could ever need me, where are you life, why won't you look at me, what's wrong with me, did you want me to leave so that my family would live better without me, so that i disappear, was it to help the people i meet, was i to do something?? or maybe i did something wrong along the way and no longer worth anything anymore ? Life give me a sign what should i do

Where to start and where to stop

from beginning to end

it feels as though a nightmare

has been written and rewritten

over and over again

on my skull's corridor walls

in these endless loops of agony

a labyrinth with no entry nor exit door

it keeps on messing with my every turn

rearranging as it pleases

in needs no permissions

it's a mere head on its own

does as it pleases as if am not there

i wake up because i must

but if i could, i would say goodnight only once

i would shut my eyes one last time

and hope that tomorrow

would be better or gone

my emotions can not follow rules and lines

they rebel against me, my past, and my time

it wished to protect me

but all it does is to break me

just as these verses don't rhyme

my mind is even messier than this

sentences don't start with a letter

rather numbers, screams, or even void

I don't know how long have i ​been in pain,

but i know that want it to end

one day i want to wake up

and think that it's going to be ok,

without having to swallow any remedies n

or drink any tee

just by being next to someone

who cares for me more than I care for myself,

because I don't care anymore

I don't remember when I last cared

Am I fading away? for i am no longer me, i don't recognize this face in the mirror, nor do i understand my own words, it's as if am this empty sheet of paper with no beginning nor end, I have barely any memory of whom i was, or if I have ever existed, there is no proof that I was here, and I see no future with me in it, maybe I am not here, maybe there is only this empty eyes of mine made out of fragile crystals, maybe that's all I am, a glass that let's light through, or a mirror that reflects what it sees,

please make me become real if only for an instant.

Some of us are scared to smile, because every time we smiled a calamity occurred, that is what our brains wants us to believe, that our happiness is always followed by this shadow for whom the sole purpose is to make us miserable and pay the price of that joy we dared to feel, you can not simply command a person to not fear loss, when their logic is based on a lifetime of broken hearts and bloody tears, our point of view is different from yours, we don't want to be pessimistic, but we have seen enough pain to last us a lifetime, we are not thinking about being happy because we are too focused trying not to get sad

Can anyone explain to me why stupidity is punishable by law, why innocent people were and are still figuratively speaking beheaded for not giving a second thought about living in this society and about the rules that tightly bound and limit this era, about why living in a place could be punishable by a book not many people had enough time to read or having too small of a memory that their little head that carry more anxiety than space can carry no more than the phrase 'let's get through this first' ;

And then there are the times when overthinking costs more damage than the actual problem, that is if there was a problem in the first place, i hate my life, i hate my brain, i hate my limited capacity to handle one thing at a time, because at one time of my life i handled to mush that i had to reboot my system but in at the end of that process i found my self programmed to protect my sanity over all, as i still do to this day, am terrified of losing my logic and train of thoughts, am terrified of wanting to die, and of trying to end my life if things are to mush for me;

We live on this planet where a category of people are secretly fragile and allergic to their own thoughts, where the toxicity in their head is mush riskier business than the one in our current atmosphere, i wish life was easy as describing feelings with written words, but the truth is that we as mute when it comes to feelings as we are asked repeatedly to engage and act according to how we feel, when we ourselves have no idea what or when to feel, we are doomed to be exiled one day or the other, because our brains were programmed to protect us from the inside before caring about the outside world

For me, It didn't start with words, unlike what most would expect, writing for me never started with a writing but with thoughts, my head was always full as it still is, occasionally my memory could not hold in all the crazy stories I had, and I couldn't remember my quotes and theories I had in the middle of starry nights, I couldn't keep up with what I was creating, I had to put it into reality, so in the mid of my teen years, I started writing here and there, stories, poems, quotes, and drawing inventions that probably will never see the light of day, I was this soul that wanted it all, I wanted to live in my world, but I also wanted to make memories with my family, I wanted my stories to be shared with other people because it felt more right, I wanted my inventions to become real because I was curious whether they would work or not, years later, and I am now in college, still the same, I wanted it all to the point where it started breaking me to pieces, in between insomnia, depression anxiety, hallucinations, the dreams and genius ideas became torturous thoughts playing in loops in unending agony, here I was that genius who started going mad, i never really saw myself as a genius only how others saw me, but I do acknowledge that those ideas did make me go mad, they still do, it turns out trying to understand life, will make life worse, in my small dorm room I set in silent while my head was emerged in this war between surviving the suicidal thoughts and not becoming mad, that's when the emotion started becoming words, I wanted the pain to end, I wanted it out of my chest, so my head started organizing these words in order, like music notes creating a symphony, every sentence had a rhythm, and at times I would not realize what I am writing until the final point, you can say that I was possessed by the same emotions that in other times had paralyzed me, I started writing because I wanted my brain to be a little less loud, and I wanted my madness to make sense, there were moment were my writings felt loud enough to be read by others, but at times they felt as a part of me, too painful and maybe to mush reflecting of my heart that I wanted them to stay hidden, I know I may not a good writer and obviously not the best, but my words are for me like the first baby steps, they are not unique nor are they the last, but they have a unique meaning to the heart and the moment they were written in.