I'm grateful to have you.

You watched her, from the corner of your eye, how that little girl stood next to her mother, looking sheltered and at peace.

The way her eyes were closed, seeing no distance between her mother and herself. How you saw the adoration on her mothers face as the little girl began to mumble Arabic words… words with meaning. Just then when you were about to look away you saw, as the little girl brought her hands up to her chest, one of her tiny hands held her mothers.

And you were grateful, for everything.

Dying without words.

You say it over but no one hears you. They acknowledge you, screaming it at the top of your lungs until it’s hard to speak at all. They stare at you like you’re some sort of outsider but you don’t cry.

You say it over when they start to shrug like they’re annoyed or deaf.

You say it over and they start to walk away from you now. You want to run after them and make them hear you. You want to scream and spit on their worthless faces and you do but you don’t cry. You say it over once it becomes unbearable and tiring.

You say it over once you can’t see anymore. You scratch your eyes trying to peel the blackness but you can’t feel, so you don’t.

You wake up and see their faces in the dull, sickness light, finally looking at you and you do not say anything because you cry. You cry.

Children.

This happens every morning...

This morning, when I saw him outside, mumbling to himself while playing in the sand with his action-figures.

That was a cute sight.

1o minutes later

Stamping his dirty batman sneakers on the white tiles, mocking his mother and screaming at the top of his lungs.

I wanted to die. Every morning

Today.

When I got up from my bed today and opened the curtains,

as I stared into the grey sky I heard the gentle drops of rain against my roof

I smiled.

Rain

I like rain.

Tear dropping, 

The peaceful drip drop on the metal roof.

The placid tune that flows around my senses at night,

The tune that tingles on my skin

Which causes goose bumps and shivers

That crosses a smile on my face.

I like rain.

We are humans.

I have come to live in a place 

where people

judge.

What you eat,

What you wear,

The things you do,

The cars you drive,

The way you speak,

The color of your skin,

The God you believe in.

We are blind to notice.

It is up to you.

It is now.

Now. Now. Now

Definition.

" It's funny - when people call you 'shy', they usually smile. Like it's cute, some funny little habit you'll grow out of when you're older, like the gaps in your grin when your baby teeth fall out. If they knew how it felt - really being shy, not just unsure at first - they wouldn't smile. Not if they knew how the feeling knots up your stomach or makes your palms sweat or robs you of the ability to say anything that makes sense.

It's not cute at all."

Quoted.