Unwritten Echo

  Here sits a broken man, his heart shattered by all those he once believed would take his hand. He remembers how freely he used to give himself, how he showed up when others were drowning, how he carried burdens that were never his, how he stood in storms that weren’t his to navigate through. He believed loyalty was something that circled back, he believed love, once given would echo, so when his own world began collapsing, when the noise in his head grew louder than his strength, he did the one thing pride usually forbids a man to do, he reached out. His hand wasn’t stretched for applause or pity, it was stretched in raw desperation. He was not calm about it, he was not composed, he was screaming for help like a madman, not because he was crazy but because pain makes even the strongest voices tremble and yet, the hands he thought would hold him withdrew slowly or never moved at all. Some looked away, some minimized his struggle, some convinced themselves he would be fine and that...

 This is the era where I stop being a person and become a presence , not alive in any meaningful way , just occupying space, breathing because the body insists on it. I don’t socialize, not because I hate people, but because I have nothing left to bring into a room, no laughter, no curiosity, no spark, just a hollow weight sitting behind my eyes. I show up and say nothing or I say the right things without meaning any of them. My voice sounds far away, like I am underwater, nodding along to a world I am not really inside. Everyone else seems to be living while I am stuck on pause. I am sad in a dramatic way, i am numb and numbness is colder than pain because at least pain proves that I am still here. I don’t miss people anymore and I don’t crave connection. I don’t even feel lonely. I just feel empty, like something essential quietly slips out of me and never comes back. Days pass but they don’t register. Morning, afternoon, night, just different shades of the same blank screen . I...

 I don’t remember the last time I felt genuinely light, not happy just light. Somewhere along the way, everything became heavier than it should be, every thought, every decision, every quiet moment where I’m left alone with myself. I wake up most days already tired as if sleep only pauses the exhaustion instead of healing it. There is a dull ache that follows me everywhere, not always loud nor sharp, just constant. It lives in my chest, in the way I sigh without realizing it, in the way my mind never truly rests. I’ve learned how to perform normalcy, I laugh at the right moments, I respond when spoken to, I show up and from the outside, I probably look functional maybe even fine but inside I feel fractured, like parts of me broke a long time ago and I never stopped to gather them back up. I just kept moving, hoping motion would fix what reflection might expose. There are things I wish I could say out loud but don’t know how to begin. How do you explain that you feel empty and overw...

 How long is forever, really? Is it a line with no ending or a question we keep asking because we’re afraid of the answer. They say eternity waits, but every clock i grew up to know eventually stops and that contradiction messes with my head. I look at the sky searching for meaning and all I find is silence stretched across the sky. Sometimes I think the rain isn’t just evapourated water in the sky, maybe it is grief, maybe it is the weight of everything we never say, falling back to earth because even God gets tired of holding it in. Life feels endless when you’re young, time moves slow, dreams are loud and you believe effort alone guarantees arrival. Then gbam age sneaks up on you, replacing certainty with reflection. The fear changes too, it is no longer about failing, it is about realizing you never truly tried. You wake up one day and it dawn on you that surviving and living are not the same thing. We miss who we were before caution became a reflex, before love required armor,...

Hummm her name sounds soft like a prayer whispered at dawn. The kind of name that feels like it was crafted with care, like it carries meaning even before you learn her story. Halima is a beautiful girl, beautiful in the kind of way that isn’t loud or demanding but settles into your chest and stays there. The type of beauty that doesn’t shout for attention, it just exists quietly pulling you in until you realize she has taken a piece of your mind without trying. A Muslim girl with grace stitched into her steps, with warmth that feels like sunrise after a long night. She walks like someone who understands the weight of kindness and still chooses to give it freely. There is a certain aura around her, something almost sacred, like she is carrying peace in her pockets and letting it spill gently into the world and her smile, wallahi , that smile could calm a storm. It doesn’t just touch her lips, it reaches her eyes down to her voice. A smile that comes with its own gravity, pulling you cl...

Life has a strange way of revealing what we value. What some people throw away becomes the very thing someone else builds their peace around. It is not about the object or the moment, it is about the eye that sees, the heart that recognizes worth where others see waste and that is the irony of it all. The same world that teaches us to desire everything also teaches us to overlook what is right in front of us. You start to realize people talk a lot about loyalty but few actually live it. Everyone wants to be called a real one but very few understand what it means to show up when it is inconvenient. There is this quiet truth you learn along the way, the ones who claim to love you may never show it until they feel you slipping away. Pressure exposes what words hide. Some people are fighting wars they don’t even understand, carrying tempers and egos like weapons, hurting others just to feel like they are in control but peace doesn’t live on another man’s road. You can’t walk in borrowed sh...