Letters

🌸

[s-nadrah]

On some days (today) I get so angry, I could cry.

[s-nadrah]

read my poetry, love my poetry, consume my poetry, marry my poetry, be swallowed and buried in my poetry

[s-nadrah]

And now my big girl job is slowly killing my small girl creativity

[s-nadrah]

Me and my emotional support journals I take with me everywhere…

[s-nadrah]

No cos who on earth feels slept by 9pm? Weakling.

[s-nadrah]

I feel like I am in between “what do you want to be” and “when you grow up” and both of them are crushing me to bits.

[s-nadrah]

I am chronically obsessed with having an aesthetic

[s-nadrah]

Another day to read my writing and be like “girl you wrote this?” admirably.

[s-nadrah]

I comfort myself with “one day I’ll be a person”, because this cannot be the life and mind of a full normal person.

[s-nadrah]

“Write the story you want to read”

I’m trying, I swear.

[s-nadrah]

I know it’s a privilege to feel my feelings intensely and all but like can I take a break? my heart is so heavy Lord

[s-nadrah]

On some days (today) I get so angry, I could cry.

[s-nadrah]

I am entering my lover girl era and I’m so excited for the possibilities that comes with it (the poemsssss)

[s-nadrah]

I am such a tired tired human

[s-nadrah]

After all, to be an artist is to have a lifelong relationship with your deepest feelings, whether pleasing or excruciating.

[s-nadrah]

The fact that a wave of sentences and poetic hyperboles could hit me at 3 pm on my worst days or choose to desert me on my 19th birthday, seems to me like torture rather than bliss.

[s-nadrah]

I cannot guarantee that a daughter of mine will not despise her breathing.