preciouspearl20

I met you again today.
          Your eyes had nothing in them.
          
          If I were to fall in love with you, I knew it would undo me.
          
          But it's too late now, I know.
          
          I mean, when did you ever have any control over it?
          
          My biggest fear was always losing myself in finding you.
          
          I could only sigh when they asked, "Why are you even expecting him to take your side over something small, when he didn't take it for something important?"
          
          And I turned my back before you could see my burning eyes.
          
          Not that it would've changed anything — maybe you'd have laughed, if you had.
          
          I'd kept myself from falling like this so it wouldn't end in destruction.
          Look at me now.
          
          I've been getting punished.
          For what?
          For choosing you.
          For still choosing you, while you just stare at my back — or maybe you don't even do that.
          
          Alone on this barren road, hands tucked in my pockets, the streetlight falling over me.
          
          I bit my lip hard, trying to stop the tears, while my chest crumbled again.
          
          The moon mocked my small figure, twinkling like it found something funny.

People will say that you're not replaceable, only to give your place to someone else instantly, as if you had never been there before.

Good night❤️

good morning

Three words.
          
          Who knew that three words could hold so much power?
          
          Something happened two years ago, and that day I vowed to myself that I would never ever give such pain and betrayal that I went through to anyone — until I ended up doing the same thing, all for different reasons.
          
          Then of course, I forgave as if only I had the heart of the ocean and wondered if anyone really should have such a big heart like me, because what's the point? You will get hurt either way.
          
          But I am different. If I stay standing beside you, you can't even imagine the lengths I would go to for you (and I did — I took such stands publicly with a fierce heart).
          
          Then one day, I had only three words to offer — "I am sorry." Only to return the same three words back to me, "I forgive you."
          
          I was stunned to receive such grace where words were loud to say this, "I choose you."
          
          Isn't it how love looks in different forms as an active form? In everyday effort, in everyday choice — because I was shocked to find out that this person still remembered my city. They only said, "because I want to meet you someday." "I will learn your language," "I will read and buy anything by you" — THIS.
          
          This is not something like saying, "gosh, I would die for you, I will love you to the moon and back," but making you their choice every single day.
          
          Isn't it what we want in any kind of relationship, friendship?
          
          You're the choice they choose every day. It's an everyday effort, after all.
          
          So yeah, maybe having a big heart isn't really bad, but rather everyone should have some people who make them their choice every day.
          
          Felt something about this? Then you should really check out my poetry chapbook, 'Art of Falling.' And yes — I'm returning to poetry. New work, coming soon.
          
          (Let me know if you want the link.)

Eleven years ago, a friend of mine told me about an orange app. I didn't pay heed to it until seven years ago, on a random evening — I was getting bored. And I was like, let's download this app. I will delete it when I get busy again.
          
          Cut to 2026, I am here as Pearl. As a wannabe Poet you see in your everyday life. Did I know that day my life was about to change quite literally?
          
          I grew up in this orange land in front of everyone, basically — from mapping out my vision to be a doctor to being called a doctor of words by a friend, I have come a long way.
          
          Life happened, arguments happened, in fact I got lifetime friendships, the best people from this orange app that I should be grateful for every day.
          
          And today, I am feeling nervous. Feeling all jittery in my bones as if I have returned to being the girl on her first day of school again.
          
          I will just ask one question — even though mostly three people will give me side eyes now, because I have pulled up this move instead of reaching out to magazines as I promised — "Hypothetically, if my writing stayed with you in any way, will you be willing to buy a poetry ebook by me?"
          
          I'm still a Writer, I'm still a Poet, but I am just a little scared today.

Always isn't infinite.
          
          Recently I got this comment when I said that I believe I will always have my community beside me.
          
          So I kinda smirked after seeing it — not because it got on my nerves — because when I say always, I mean that I believe in my ability to turn around at least one person for me.
          
          What I meant is that I believe in my ability so much that I start from scratch everywhere. And today, proudly, I can say I have my people everywhere — I earned it.
          
          Although there's a side project. It will show me the reality when the time comes.
          
          No, I don't go viral anywhere. My writings don't get thousands of reactions the moment I publish. But I can count on my fingers who would always be there no matter what.
          
          Yes, I know that always is finite. Everything has limitations. One day these people will be gone as well. And it has happened to me already, on many occasions.
          
          Because forever is a lie.
          
          But I think, therefore I write.
          I write, therefore I live.
          I live, therefore I document.
          
          Dennis said his life is boring, so he doubts his next generation will be interested in hearing his story. I beg to differ — because I know my life isn't boring, even though I make it sound like one.
          
          You will get horror, thriller, suspense, and everything in between.
          
          And I am here to live every one of those words. So that when I won't be here anymore, my words will carry on my legacy — and I can only wish that my future generations will have many generational chains I broke for them.
          
          All I need is just one person to believe in me. And I believe in myself that I would always find that one person, everywhere.
          
          I'll write anyway.

A new poem, "My thirsty love" has been added to my latest poetry collection. Give me a read if your few seconds permit —
          
          https://www.wattpad.com/1630718383-traveller%27s-heart-my-thirsty-love
          
          _____
          
          Before I leave, I want to applaud @Ajay-Kumar's courage today. Undoubtedly, he is the finest and gifted poet I have ever met and I adore his words. 
          
          In my whole lifetime I have only seen only one guy who has the courage to admit his vulnerability, his flaws, and that's what makes him so humane, I feel. It's rare to face your own truth, to have an acceptance of your identity. 
          
          Because you cannot be better without facing your truth, I believe. 
          
          And today, I saw it in Ajay's poem. Someone said it's just okaish? And I was stunned for a moment. Because it's not just okay, it's devastating and so beautiful in its way I cannot explain. 
          
          I cannot explain the courage to be vulnerable like this, to be open to the whole world. I, as a poet, as a woman, when I tell you this isn't easy, believe me. It's not easy at all to bare your soul like this to the whole world. 
          
          Each and every line held so much truth and conviction that it almost made me tear up and I just wanted to give the biggest hug to Ajay if it was possible. 
          
          Not because he is perfect, or the poem had stylist metaphors but it holds the truth, and vulnerability in that way, it's devastating, it pierced my heart in a way I cannot explain. 
          
          Ajay, my respect for you has increased even more today. Not because you're perfect but because you're so humane, and brave enough to have an acceptance like this, today I can say that you're undoubtedly the second person after my friend, who held vulnerability like this. 
          
          Please read this poem —
          
          https://www.wattpad.com/1580494339-begin-again-%7E-poetry-fragments-of-a-letter-to

hi pearl. something happened today and i really need to tell someone because im genuinely not okay right now. i got an email from a journal tha had already accepted my poem, saying theyre rescinding it because they think it was "ai-generated." i was completely stunned. of all the things i've ever feared as a writer, this never even crossed my mind. because why would it? there was No reason for it to even be the last thing i'd think of happening to me. hwo to you feel when you're being told that something you bled onto pages is somehow a goddamned machine's work!?  i spiraled so badly i started doubting myself, which feels so effing messed up. i even downloaded ai-detection apps (imagine that!) just to check my "own" work. a few said it was 100% human, others said fully ai. then i tested poems i wrote in 2020 (after my grandad's death), way before any of this ai stuff even existed. those got flagged as ai too. it would be funny if it didn't hurt so much. it feels so so disrespectful, you know. like my voice, all these years of writing, my way of thinking are now being erased by some broken algorithm, and the worst part is there's absolutely nothing i can really do about it. ai and google get the final word now, not humans. i am SO angry and sad and small and just soo hollow. i'm literally crying as im typing this. i don't have anyone to share this with, hence writing to you. sorry.

In my first year in the virtual world:
          At first, leaving a comment on any book seemed pointless—you would never get a reply, even when asking questions.
          
          Then one day, I left a comment and actually got a notification in my feed.
          
          That's when I realized this app wasn't just for popular writers. Long story short, I'm so grateful to have met people who helped me break free from my misguided assumptions. I say "misguided" because you'll find many people here who are too busy to respond to comments. 
          
          Yet, a famous author thanked me for adding their book to the public reading list, saying I had made their day! How wonderful was that feeling! Mind you, they had once been in the paid program.
          
          I observed how many writers were ghosting their readers, while others were so appreciative. Honestly, I learned from them. I learned not to waste my readers' time—I'm grateful for every second they spend on my average writing. After all, no one owes you anything here, not even if you write like Shakespeare.
          
          Scratch that last part. (I'll stop myself before saying something that might get me canceled later). My point is that when someone reads and appreciates your work, the least you can do is thank them. Show appreciation, and don't act dismissively if they wished you on your special day just because they're just strangers  (yes, this really happened).
          
          I'm thankful for the humility I learned from these writers. @Ajay-Kumar is one of them. Trust me, read, leave a hundred comments on his book, and he'll reply to each one. And his insightful perspective? He can find meaning in anything. 
          
          I'm nowhere near his skill level, but thank you so much for the sweet message, Ajay. Consider this a return gift, perhaps. You know I'm definitely ready to be your brand ambassador any day.
          
          Many of you may have already seen his work. But I urge you to read more of his writing. I'm signing off, leaving my favorite poem from his collection. 
          
          https://www.wattpad.com/1472881160-last-%7E-poetry-xoxo