ama’s passing still feels every bit unreal.
like it couldn’t have happened to us. to me.
cancer only happens to other people.
death only happens in other families.
“she’s no more,” rings in my head ever so often
that i feel like i am living two lives.
one that drags me further down into an endless pit
and the other that tries to keep up with ‘normalcy’.
i am weaker than i can bring myself to admit.
i am stronger than i can bring myself to admit.
pens are no different from memories
— quite unreliable.
no different from thoughts
— they both run out.
Hadi said that the weather didn’t bother him. well, those weren’t his exact words but it was something like he had no complaints about it. “we can’t change nature,” he’d said and so we must accept that. he couldn’t understand people who complained about nature. then, i went on to profess how much i loathed winter – all the darkness and snow.
afterwards, i felt like a fool.
pieces of text from a year and a half back in this book. mine is on page 28.
i might have already posted parts of it before. i can’t remember.
before all the sand slips through my fingers,
i hold on
to the pieces tucked in the creases of my palms.