To my 22nd,
All these years I came to realize there's no point in wishing for a good year.
So for this year, I will laugh harder, smile wider and love stronger,
I will build friendships, relationships, make connections, lose some, gain some.
I'll find my solace, I will hold myself tightly, and I won't let myself hate me.
I'll treat myself nicely, I'll take myself out on dates, successful or not, I won't feel guilty.
I'll accept the pain, cry for it, fear it, but I'll accept it, hug it one last time before I leave.
But most importantly,
I'll be me.
The 7 years who hated the idea of love,
The 12 years who feared showing vulnerability,
The 15 years old who found herself loneliness in a group of friends,
The 17 years old who never wanted to grow.
~wish me luck
Yours Truly,
Hind.
YOU ARE READING
Whispers From The Wonderer's Soul.
Non-FictionWhen does pain become virtue? When does survival turn into resilience? When does it all feel less heavier? Every thought I couldn't speak out, every moment that shaped me, endless rants of everything and nothing.
