Muffled cries, stomach aches, anxiety, nausea and constant uneasiness is how I describe another Wednesday night.
Are we blessed to have a roof over our head or cursed that under that very roof one of us may take our very last breath carrying nothing but regrets.
You get so used to staying inside your room, that you forget that you used to stay in out of force, out of anger and fear, something you have succumbed to; made it into a habit overtime, it’s only one day when you realize.
You’ve never truly seen a tree or observed the sky, because sky is not just rainbows and sunsets, sky is different in every eye.
Sky is a canvas.
Sky is failure. Sky is thunderstorms and lightning.
Sky is loud, deafening screeches. Sky is my parents shouting. Sky is biting my fingernails and shaking my legs. Sky is all my insecurities drawn into a painting.
But on somedays,
Sky is warm hugs and cuddles. Sky is soulfully singing ’til I fall asleep.
Sky is pastel coloured nails on a cozy day.
Sky is my blow dried hair smelling like lavender and happiness.
Sky is soothing lo-fi music playing while it rains peacefully, something that I wish would last longer than the former.