Crowded Stories

دوا پەیام لە کۆتای چیرۆکەکان ئەوە باسە لە کۆتای چەند چیڕۆک و کتێبێک دەکات کە خوێندومەتەوە وە ئەوە بە شایەن و کۆتا واتا و پەیامی دەزانم وە ئەو ناونیشانەم بۆ داناوە لە کۆتایدا پەیامێک دەگەیەنێت وە ھەروەھا چەند وتەیەکی کۆتای دەدات لە بارەی وە هەندێکیشی بیرو باوەڕی خۆمن کە خۆم لە ژیانی ڕۆژانە هەست و درکم پێ کردووە ....... هیوادارم بە دەڵتان بێت سوود و چێژی لێ ببینن تێبینی / بە ئینگلیزی و کوردی دەنوسرێن ببورن ئەگەر کوردیەکەم زۆر باش نەبوو

How completely typical of people to assume. To judge. To think they know. Maybe it's time for people to hear my side of the story. The side you never even knew existed. For once, I'd like you to admit that you are wrong about me. Typically wrong.

inspired by a certain jewish avantgarde poetess, can you guess? 01.08.18

just some useless ramble i wrote down when i was having a depressive episode. i started writing this ramble on june 26th, 2018 at 2:26 in the morning. the thoughts were written as i was crying, as i was gasping for breath, as i was being filled with fear. but at the same time, these thought were written as i was feeling numb, as i was shallowly breathing, as i felt nothing. feel free to read this. it's mainly just a mechanism for coping. i wrote this down on paper, but i need to get it out so i can look back at it in the future for any reason, just in case i lose the paper. and who knows? maybe i'll add more rambles to this so it isn't just some tiny thing.

This is my story about my first day at a new school. No, I'm not the new kid, I'm just new to the school building. Wish me luck! WARNING: This is my actual day, and it may be boring for some people.

I wrote this in the psych ward. I was sitting in the corner, alone, drawing, and nobody paid any attention to me at all. I was kinda lonely, but I didn't want the company of any screaming maniacs anyways.

A story about twists, adventures, and pies?

"There are weeping roses on this hill. They are few, but they are plenty. Amidst a tangle of ivy they grow..." Another short and original poem by M. M. Young

I do not think I am like the others. Is that okay ?

a poem about the torture that is people and crowds.

From one extreme to the next, extroverted to introverted.

"What is it like to be a star" I said aloud, although knowing I was alone. Destiny is a 14 year old girl just trying to figure things out. Living in a large city she finds it hard to find seclusion, where she can just sit and listen to her thoughts.

In a crowded place two eyes busy watching the people around found each other. Will the hunt for those familiar eyes end after they finally met?