Unfiltered Thoughts~

Mistakes are what make us human. They're little reminders that keep us moving forward.

My mistakes are my intellectual property...my originals. No one can steal them. They are mine and solely mine.

Perfection belongs to no one. It's just the baseline people chase. But mistakes? They belong to us.

They bring out the you in you. They reveal the parts that can't be copied or replicated. They make you special.

Because at the end of the day, you're just a big block of flesh carrying a soul that's trying so hard not to make mistakes...

when the very things you're afraid of are often the things that make you uniquely human.

You know that trend where you pick up your son one last time before he gets too big, just so you can remember the moment before it’s gone?

Yeah. I did it too.

Never posted it though. Just kept it hidden safely in my gallery for only me to see — just in case one day I’d still be able to carry him again, and maybe that wouldn’t really be the last time.

And i was right.

God gave me one more chance to pick him up.

But this time, He made sure it truly was the last time… as the blood slowly dripped down my arms, taking the warmth out of him.

The app did its job perfectly.

It reminded me of everything-one by one-like it always did. Every plan, every detail, every little thing I didn’t want to forget. Especially today. The same day, one year later, since we met.

The restaurant was booked.

The decorations were ready.

The gifts were wrapped, sitting quietly in the corner, waiting for hands that would never reach for them.

A notification popped up again.

“Don’t forget the cake.”

I almost laughed.

No age on it. She hated that.

What could an app do?

How could it know…

that she had already left.

leaving me behind in a world where everything was still on time,

except her.

AFTER 2 HOURS OF TALKING AT THE BAR

“Kiss me.”

“Noo, I have promised myself that my first kiss is for my husband.”

“Marry me then.”

“Boy, I dont even know you yet… it’s only been like-” checking watch “-2-ish hours since we met.”

“Is 2-ish hours enough to ask you out on a date then?”

“Hmhm sure, learn to step on every stair and not take an elevator tho-I may not be up there yet.”

He chuckled and said,

"I can already see us on the terrace though.”

He said I like to bite my pen when I use my phone while writing. He said I raise my pinky when I check the time. He said my ears turn red when I’m nervous.

I don’t know why he knows this much about me, even things I don’t know about myself. Maybe I do know, but I just can’t wrap my head around the fact that someone notices me this much, even on the days I forget I exist.

I do know one thing though-i like him… not love, or maybe exactly that.

I wonder if my ears are turning red as I scramble through the keyboard to find the letters for the words I haven’t decided yet.

Saw her after five long years, across the road, waiting for the green light to strike the walking man sign.

She looked. I stared.

Three minutes.

It took three minutes for the traffic to clear, but it wasn’t enough to even start remembering why we left.

The man turned green, the street grew thick,

but the two people who wanted to cross stayed still.

People say the night is peaceful.

But maybe it’s not the darkness we love.

Maybe it’s the moment when the world finally stops expecting anything from us.

I wanted to write a really scary monster but had no idea what to make him look like. So I ended up staring at the mirror for a little too long with the lights off, just a bit of moonlight in the room.

And guess what my brain did?

It turned my own face into the most evil and disturbing monster I’ve seen.

Anyway now I know what he looks like so…thanks brain I guess.

So my character is basically a ghostly but still alive kinda creature who can turn into human as well as this creature. The problem is he changes whenever he sees himself in a mirror and the next time he sees his reflection he switches back to human again. Right now his girlfriend is dragging him to a makeup store and he can’t do shit about it-

Sometimes loving you feels like a knife lodged in my heart.

It hurts to leave it there, of course.

But I know pulling it out will hurt more.

So I let it stay.

Not because it belongs,

not because I don’t want it gone,

but because this quieter, constant ache

feels easier to survive

than the tearing that would come with letting you go.

I know, somewhere deep down,

that wounds like this don’t heal around steel.

That one day the pain will demand a choice

I can’t avoid forever.

But for now,

I live with the blade inside me…

hurting,

but hurting less.

The pillows at his house were softer than mine. It felt like my head just sank right into them. A smear of sunlight spread across my face from the curtains dancing with the wind. I opened my eyes and moved his hands off my hips. It felt so refreshing to have gotten a proper night of sleep after a long time.

After freshening up, I walked toward the kitchen, my mind wandering through breakfast ideas. Then I remembered his favorite hash browns. I washed the potatoes and placed them onto the stove to boil. The soft hiss of the water and the gentle clatter of the pot filled the quiet room, grounding me in the moment.

I was lost in my thoughts for a minute when his hands wrapped around my hips. I turned my head slightly and looked at him. My heart started beating faster, even though he had been my husband for three years now. It felt just like the first time—the time when he asked if he could hold my hands and wouldn’t let go for the entire four-hour lecture.

I pushed him back like I didn’t want this right now. You might wonder why. I don’t know either—or maybe it was just to see his sulky little face, his eyes sparkling with the only thought of touching me. But this time, he pulled me back into his arms as soon as I pushed him away and whispered into my ear, “Can I stay for a bit longer? Just till the potatoes boil, maybe? Please?”

I didn’t agree nor refuse. I quietly lowered the flame and pulled his hands closer to me. I could feel his smile buried in my neck, and a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the morning sun.

I think i need to stop romantisizing yearning.

Even tho it looks good on paper, half the time it is just pain disguised as poetry.

But on the other hand, Jotting down that ache into words does feel like turning the knife sticking in my heart the right way.

It doesnt stop the pain but it does give a hope- a hope that some day, anytime from now the knife is gonna come out.

And im still unaware of bleeding to death.

I said "It was me. I am the reason this is falling apart. I want this to end because i am not the person i was when i first met you and it didnt go the better way. Sorry, but it isnt you,its me."

But deep down all i wanted to shout at her was "IT WAS YOUUU, YOU BROKE ME. YOU LEFT ME WORSE THAN YOU FOUND ME. AND THIS—THIS IS ALLL YOUR FAULT.”

But I cant drop my gentleman act now-

We were so close, I felt like I could melt into her skin. She stared right into my eyes, lips slightly parted. I could hear her slow breathing — even her heartbeat was ringing in my ears. She slowly blinked and tilted her head slightly to the left, wearing that half-smirk smile. I was completely lost, and she knew it.

She gently brushed her hands against mine, trailing them up to my shoulders and then to my neck. Her fingers lingered there, grazing my Adam’s apple. I gulped. Her hands were making my skin tingle — like my nerves were waking up just for her.

And then, she let go. Her hands drifted from me and touched her own neck, making me desperate to touch her. I leaned in, just a little — only for her to step back, keeping the distance between us unchanged.

Somehow, being this close yet not touching made it even worse.

I slowly raised my hands and cupped her cheeks. I moved in — so close that I could feel her breath on my lips. She was breathing heavily now, and so was I. I looked into her eyes without blinking, while hers flickered between mine and my lips.

I knew she wanted to be kissed. So did I.

But seeing her like this — needy — felt intoxicating.

I brought my other hand to her face, holding it like a fragile treasure. I leaned forward until our lips were as close as they could be — still untouched. I gulped, desperately wanting to taste her, but I waited.

Her fingers slowly traced down my spine until they reached my hair. Her other hand rested on my hip — feather-light, barely there, but it burned through me.

And then, suddenly, she closed the gap.

She kissed me.

Her hands pulled the back of my head toward her, deepening the kiss.

She kissed me. She kissed me.

My thoughts — overwhelmed, chaotic — didn’t know how to react.

But with her cold, soft lips pressed to mine like that, I knew I had to stop thinking.

I needed to feel this.

And I did. God I did.

It was like a reminder of how much she had a hold on me.

Oh god I love her. I love her so much and I don’t know what to do with it…

Something about his eyes,

Something about his touch,

Something about his smile,

And something about the sound of his breath in the silence of those dreams.

The presence that was never there,

The touch that was never real,

The sound that was never heard.

Who is he?

Making my heart beat like crazy out of nothing but just a dream?

Leaving me with just a blurry memory to fall asleep to forever...

I was in my final year of college. I had an important seminar that day, and I messed it up so bad because I felt anxious standing in front of a whole lot of people I didn’t know, a handful I didn’t want to know, and a couple of people I regret knowing. I was really disappointed and stressed about having to start over with the seminar.

I came back to the dorm and went straight to bed. It was only 9, so I intended to take a quick nap and get back up for dinner. But when I woke up, it was dark and the lights were out. I tried waking up, but I couldn’t move. I could feel a pressure on my chest, like some kind of rock weighing me down. I couldn’t catch a breath-it felt like I was having a panic attack, but at the same time, I couldn’t move an inch.

The only thing that was moving were my eyeballs; they moved left and right, trying to figure out the situation, but I couldn’t make any sense out of it. Then I started to hear a quiet humming, which slowly grew louder and louder. It felt like someone or something was there in the room, and it was getting closer and closer to me. I felt extremely suffocated, like I was being drowned. I tried to breathe, but I just couldn’t.

The humming was now so close I could almost feel its breath on my cheek. My eyes darted to the far corner of the room-I thought I saw something shift in the dark, but the moment I tried to focus, it vanished. My lungs screamed for air, my chest burned, and my thoughts scattered in a frantic loop that kept whispering “wake up, breathe, move”. Every second stretched into a minute.

I felt helpless as the humming got closer and louder. I tried to move, to wake up and run or breathe at the least, but my body was bound to the bed. I felt drops of sweat sliding down my face and a drop of tear dripping down into my ears. I tried to move my toes, and suddenly, they moved. I felt like I had regained access to myself. I threw myself up and started to gasp for air.

My heartbeat was faster than it had ever been, and my head was throbbing with pain. I looked around to make sure that no one was around, and then checked my bed to find a shadow of myself painted by my sweat. I stood up and walked towards the washroom, then jumped into the shower. As the cold water soaked me, I felt my heart slowly getting back on track.

The beauty of the blurred image that lingers in yours eyes when your heart decides to let them flood.

The unfocused layers of vision,

the fading distances,

and the coloured circles around the brightest lights across the street.

Heart was aching but somehow,

the world through that agony looked painfully beautiful.