Category: Bits & pieces of everything

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Let us be the generation of equity & equality

Happy Thursday all, and happy International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women and the beginning of the #16DaysOfActivism Against Gender-Based Violence. Even though ending GBV is long overdue and still a long shot ahead, kudos to all the humans out there working to create safer spaces for girls, more accepting places for women, and a tiny bit more inclusive generation.

We often use #GenerationEquality at work, and it’s a phrase very dear to my heart because I very much believe it. I believe in an equal generation, and I believe in a generation achieving equality, and I believe in generation equality.

Now I can go into the historical details of Generation Equality and the agenda, but later, maybe. You can find all about it here. It’s more of a roadmap to achieving gender equality, a sustainable development goal, and it’s an inspiring frame of work that puts hope in the emerging generations.

From CEDAW to Beijing 1995, to the many significant conferences that helped in setting women’s rights on the map of development, those were all led by academics, scholars, and experts in gender studies and women’s rights. Icons who dedicated their lives to understanding behavioral change and society and the way to move forward with respect to communities. They have pinned down the steps needed to achieve, realistically, equality between women, men, and individuals identified as none.

However, and despite the inspiration they represent, they were all adults, and they were all intellects. This is definitely not a bad thing, and I definitely am not one to have any say in that, but just like law and order, intellects represent the base for any fundamental right, and it is the common people’s duty to execute. I believe that human rights, especially women’s rights, are more born with us than taught to us. Human rights are for all, and not only those who seek education. They are for the youths and the people living in this world and trying to make it a bit happier and safer.

I am talking about us, and particularly Gen Z, the generation that was born between 1997-2012, following millennials. This generation is often criticized to be raised by the social media and the internet, but, tbh, I rather have children raised by social media than a retrograde mentality of older generations.

As I was born in 1997, I cannot say I belong entirely to Gen Z, but I have walked on its surface and have witnessed it emerge, and I am beyond impressed. This generation is fascinating, and I am forever profoundly astonished by how developed, proud, empowered, and feminist it is.

It is mostly all about the trends, I know. However, the limitless online spaces have opened up opportunities for individuals who never had a chance to exist, let alone be accepted, within their communities. Twitter has made it okay for everyone to be who they are, with no filters, and has accepted them not despite their differences but because of their differences.

Tell me now, how else would have the LGBTQAI+ community find its voice in conservative communities if it were not for social media normalizing being you, exquisitely unfiltered, and accepting you solely for that? How else would we have heard of #BLM and supported it? How else would have western communities heard of the Palestinian struggle and marched against apartheid if it were not for the online sphere? How else would we have become comfortable with our body silhouettes, curves, birthmarks, flaws if it were not for posts and stories explaining that flawless beauty in magazines IS NOT real?

I have been working for the most prominent women’s rights organization globally for a year and a half, and I have colleagues who have worked in the feminist field for years, and I have seen Gen Z individuals use pronouns and inoffensive language more effortlessly and correctly than all of us. I have been learning so much from Gen Z youths; their acceptance/endorsement of another, their fight for women and trans individuals and equality, and I am in awe of how ‘woke‘ 16 years olds are, more than I or anyone ever was at that age (or any age).

I know it is not all sugarplum, I am not delusional. I know there is still so, so, much negativity and discrimination and bullying, especially among teens. I know social media has created [new] drastic problems and insecurities for teenagers, and God knows, it had created a few for me and still does, but it is not all bad either. I

t has given a haven for bullied persons to speak up, for lonely teens to find friends, for individuals with mental health disorders to find similar people and relate to them.

I have so many examples of what I am rambling about; I have all the evidence and proofs and stories to back up my argument. But this is already a very long post so I will stop here and continue in a part (2) later.

This is a feminist generation, we know it, we acknowledge it, and we feel it. This is a generation that refused any sort of sexist word, let alone any abuse. This is a generation that stood up against violence and called out the smallest abusive actions for what they really are: violence that needs to stop. This is generation equality, and I am so proud to be a part of it.

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It’s my fault

It’s my fault

forgive me,
It's me,
I do that to people
And then I complain when they leave me 


Forgive me for letting you
Take me for granted
I do that
I do that a lot


I let you feel like 
The most beautiful person on earth
The smartest
The funniest
The closest
I tell you how important you are
To me,
To the world
I build you strong
I give you everything 
I prioritize you over me
I put you up so high
And then I get upset when you
Start stepping on me

And then I turn around, 
Expecting you to be there
And you're not there
You're never there
And I wonder, whatever did I do wrong?
Did I love you too hard?
Or is it that you couldn't love me enough? 
Or maybe I just don't deserve the love I expect 
And I decide to leave
To leave you
And you lose that source that gave you love 
And you wonder
And you think I am the bad for leaving
But what can I do? What can I say? 
Can I tell you
Or would you even listen
If I asked you
Why didn't you love me enough?
Why were you not there?
Why didn't you try harder?

How can you tell someone
That they are supposed to care about you
Just like you care about them
How can you tell someone
That if I need them I expect them to be here
Now
And not
In February
When they have time to spare

Forgive me,
But you drained the love out of me
I am exhausted and I have no love
To give back
Forgive me,
But I cannot forgive you for what you did and are doing 
To me
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Everybody leaves

Everybody leaves. Maybe I’m a bit too hard to love, and maybe it takes a little more effort to stay with me, an effort you don’t want to make, and maybe I am not worthy at all to care and be cared for, and maybe this is why no one’s here when I need them, or even when I don’t. 

Maybe I’m just a little too ugly, a little too loud, a little too much, and there are so much more important things in your life you can’t really bother with someone as broken as I am, and I don’t blame you for that.

I would never blame you for leaving, because why would you not? I blame myself for staying without really looking twice if you’d really care if I stay or leave. I blame myself for making myself think that I could ever be worthy of this, of all of this. 

I blame myself, for caring too hard, for loving too much, for putting you first when you really didn’t care to put me second. I blame myself for giving you my all and when I wanted you to give me a little, you weren’t even here.

Maybe it is me, maybe I give so much that I make you independent  of me, maybe I encourage you to use me and only come to me when you’re bored. Maybe I have taken the role of the prostitute in your life; you come for a night of pleasure and throw me away the very next morning. Maybe it is me, I am too broken beyond repair and you didn’t want to put up with that. 

I know you love me, but not because you care about me, but because I care about you and you need that. This is why you are never here in my low points or high points,you only come for yourself and never for me. And it’s okay, I understand that, it’s just me who anticipates shit that isn’t there.

Thing is, I expect you to neglect me. I expect you to do less and care less despite what you think or feel. I expect  you to forget me, to leave me, I expect the worst of you because I expect so little of me and I will never believe you can actually care.

And the funny thing is, you didn’t really prove me wrong. You haven’t really proved to me you care, and you have mastered the skill of neglect, and you have endeavored the act of me chasing you that now it has become a confidence booster to you. 

Maybe I’m too awful to love. Maybe my skin’s a bit unclear and my double chin is a bit too obvious and my voice is fucking terrible to listen to. Maybe my lisp is too annoying and my hunchback is disgusting and my clothings are a bit too chabby. 

And this is why I will leave. Because you make me feel like the cheapest doll and I don’t want to reach the point where you break my plastic body and throw me in the garbage. I will leave because you make me feel all those things, you make me feel like a beast and, forgive me, but I no longer want to feel that way.

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Books I need to read and get

My friend always makes fun of me for hoarding books and reading so little, and as much as I would like to punch him in the face when he points this out, I also know it is painfully true.

It is not that I am one of those people who buy books just to look smart, I love love love love reading, but I just don’t have time most days. I often get to my bed late at night or after exhaustion has eaten my brain, and as I lay there with my book beside me, I can barely read the title. All the focus I had was long gone at the first sip of my Diel coffee this morning and editing Golda’s story and desperately trying to fill out an F10 form.

I honestly want to read, I really do, and I even read two books the last two months and started with another two that I am reading at the same time, which I don’t exactly like to do, and I really would like an extra hour or two to read more.

But instead, I usually go back home too tired to think that I attend up binge-watching Netflix.

Nope, no mister, not today. Today, I will be skipping the gym to read, and as I finish all my tasks in due time ( 🙂 ), I am leaving the office no later than 5:30 pm, and I will read. I promise myself, I will read.

However, I also REALLY want these three books, but I feel guilty to buy them as I bought five last month, which I still did not start with. So what I will be doing is I will finish two or three books by December, which will make it easier for me to buy more books because, hey, I am consuming(:

The books I want are:

The Blind Assasin by Margaret Atwood

A Doll’s House by Henrik Ibsen

Milk and Honey by Rupi Kaur (poems)

The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler

Farewell My Lovely by Raymond Chandler

Oops. Looks like they’re five books. Lol. I know I’ll be getting two of them mid-December, but the rest, I would need to book hunt.

Let me update my calendar now and leave the office. It’s time to go home, folks.

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A letter to the lover of Frank Sinatra

(This has been written a while ago)

Frank Sinatra sings to his lover

He says she is his only way of life

The only way he knows

Did she listen? Did she cry?

Because my lover never listens,

He kisses the lips of another

And I die.

The autumn leaves fall down the streets

Soon to aloof the mighty tree

And as I reminisce your memories, I think of my defeats

I think of the ways you held me and the way you are holding she

The autumn is upon us

Just like the mighty tree, I stand unprepared

For the nostalgia I feel inside my guts

Thinking of all the music you sang and all the words left unheard

I think of you, you who has abandoned me

You who ripped my heart out of my body

Yet you refused to set me free

You who left me with eyes so soggy

And slow danced with somebody that isn’t me

You drank your bloody wine

Held her sweaty hands into the night

Walked our streets with her under a moon so divine

Took her to my place, my chair, my light, despite

Tell me something now

While drunk did you

Slur your words and my name allow

To escape your lips, now tell me how

You took her into your arms

Saw my face on hers

Held her closer to see

The agonized soul of mine

Looking into the dead eyes of thou

Do you think of me when you are with her

Drunk and desperate, sulking into her embrace

Do you reminisce on where you are now and where you were

Do you see her the way I do, an ebony crow with such disgrace

And when you sober up and remember it isn’t I,

Does your heart sink to your legs, do you lie

And from her you shy

Do you chug your coffee 

Light your cigarette, my memories deny 

I wonder if Frank Sinatra, writhed in pain

When he realized that lovers like mine and his

Cannot feel love

That all the words we rhyme go in vein

I wonder if he knows all that and still loves her

Just as much as I love you

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Are you smelling pineapple and mango?

It’s my pineapple and mango candle.

Just showered, and my hot and long shower gave me a bit of energy I have not felt for the past four days. I just ate the remaining of my 3-day old Japanese cheesecake, brushed my teeth, hugged mum, and right now I lit my candle and I am smelling the sweet scents of mangos. 

It was draining, the past two weeks, and even though I’ve had beautiful days, I still haven’t recovered and this affected my anxiety, a lot. Yesterday my social anxiety was at its peak that it reminded me of a particular horrid night back in 2017 and right now I feel a bit discouraged. How come I am still going through stuff I went through in 2017, despite my surreal efforts of working on myself and being? Aren’t I supposed to be growing, moving forward, and not regressing?

Meh, I guess I’m a bit harder to fix. It’s exhausting. It’s not that I expect myself to be a monk within two years, but at least leave the past in the past. I cannot keep going through the same things and hide in the turtle shell I have built.

It’s Thursday. The idea of work tomorrow and the 2 weeks old unopened emails is making my brain hurt. I am looking forward to a slow weekend, where even if I didn’t go out, I would still have time to reflect and reminisce, I usually need this to keep the memories alive and the reasons to not die, eccentric?

Good night for now my loves, hope you had a fabulous second week of November. Also, any song recommendations? I kinda need one.  

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The predator

A poem to a predator

You who lurk into a girl’s soul and abuse it

How could you?

How could you lay a finger unwanted? A kiss undesired? A glimpse unallowed?

You who thought, so narcissistically, to feed your disgusting desire with the pain of a girl

How could you?

How could you hear her groan as you lay a finger in a place unwanted and think it is thirst?

How could you kiss her? How could you allow your chapped pale lips to smudge the holiness of hers?

How could you touch her skin and leave her body burning for eternity?

How could you consent yourself inside her, treat your lust as superior and her as a weakling,

How could you see the tear go down her face and still roll your eyes in pleasure?

No, she did not invite you in. She did not lead you on. She did not lure you to her.

She could be standing before you;

Naked from head to toe;

Swirling her feet;

Biting her lips;

Chewing her hair;

Pole dancing;

With a bottle of Absinthe;

Mouthing unholy slurs;

And if she says no to you,

You do not so much as look at her with crave.

Who are you, the unbeing of beings

To kill a child, a girl, a woman,

To watch a child, a girl, a woman,

Choke in fear

In depression

In tear

Because of a hand

An abnormally ugly hand

You used to ruin her

To ruin any effort of survival

To ruin any chance of a haven

No, it is not just a word,

A touch,

A finger,

A hand,

A kiss,

A sniff,

A look,

A one-time,

A one person,

A photograph,

No it is not just a thing,

It is throwing her off a plane

And expecting her to land on her feet and continue walking.

See, your nasty innuendos, you throwing her off a plane, will not kill her

She will land on the ground, with broken feet, a damaged memory

A disabled kidney

A mutilated skin

A chronic headache

A sob that refuses to cease

A pain that the demons cannot bear

She will live her life with all these diseases, illnesses,

Mental, physical, and social imbalance

Look at other people and wonder why

She was not lucky enough to live a normal life

To smile like the other girls

To play with no fear

To feel anything but desperate

And shame

And embarrassment

And blame

And dirty

Only because

You chose to lay a finger in a place you should not have.

How could you?

Inspired by a Norwegian play my wholesome friend and I watched until 3am, on my last night in Dubai
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Back to the homes

Ola amigos, Como Estas? I’ve missed you.

I am currently writing on my flight back to Beirut from Dubai, after nine days of getting out, escaping, exploring what it is like to be in a place where all fundamental rights are given abruptly, where menstrual pads are offered in bathrooms and where my male friend can go out wearing black nail polish and be admired for it.

It is not that I like Dubai more or that I am praising it despite the transparent fragility of artificialities and faux pas; it’s just that we all deserve an equal chance to live with less stress and more social freedom. It is okay to be discrete and diverse and have people not know your name or where you come from. It is nice to be free.

I love how vibrant and social Beirut is; I do. You know how much I am very much in love with Beirut, you all know that, but Beirut refuses to give us an open window to breathe, to get out of its people and colors and insanely social occasions and obligations and the must trys and the frowned upons. It is indeed an exotic city and, at the same time, so conservative, and its existential crisis is driving my own existential crises down the abyss.

It was my birthday last Monday, November 1st, and it rained in Beirut, like every year-I like to call this God’s birthday gift, and I wasn’t there to celebrate my rain. I was soaking under the desert sun, buying Afghan bread, and observing cultures lurk through the bustling streets. It was hot, but instead of my usual agitation and sun loathe, I did not mind a little sweat in return for mere coexistence.

I want to tell you all about it, and I have a feeling I won’t because I don’t know why I always avoid writing about significant things that happen – maybe because I feel too much and I always avoid writing about the big things because they require a lot of energy and I am a sulker at best and a sloth at worst. (:

I might not tell you about the whole trip here, but you can ask me whenever and we can talk about it over coffee. What I will for sure be telling you about is the incredibly aching play I watched on my last night because I cannot stop thinking about it – so alluring and painful that I have been thinking about the play all day.

For now, I am listening to Amy Winehouse and thinking a lot about her these few days for different reasons, and I skipped the airplane meal because it is so inedible yet devoured on the coffee – who knew airplane coffee could be this good? I just finished the fourth episode of the second season of You, and I am thinking a lot about all the victims of sexual harassment who watch their lives burn before their eyes from a touch unwanted.

It is unfair, unjust, and crucial that most women experience, one way or another, sexual harassment. I have no words and will never fathom why a person would ever think he has the right to abuse another.

My airplane is starting to land, adios mis amores for now.

<3  

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My blog turns one today🎂

Dear lovelies, the awesome readers of my blog,

My baby’s one today. Happy birthday, nourslittleuniverse; I am over my head with thoughts and impressions, and I am so proud of you.

Being the uptight structured moi, I am overflowed with so many things to write and so many bits and pieces to share, and whenever I feel like writing too much, I freeze, and I would get writer’s block because lol. The life of nonsense is me, and I am it.

As per the aforementioned – ;), I have categorized my thoughts into the following points, and I’m hoping I make some sense because when I’m excited, I lose words, and I just end up smiling like a creep, and since you can’t see me smile you’ll probably think I am a mess-which I am, but I wouldn’t want you to think that.

Embrace yourself; this will be a long post.

Anyway, the points are:

Songs you can listen to while reading this🎵
General overview: a- Typos b- Content✍️
Feedback📝
FAQ❓
Photos – cover photos🖼️
Today🎋
Plans & future🩰
Round of applause👏

Songs you can listen to while reading this🎵

I am currently listening to two songs:

Eid Miladek – A5rass: I discovered this song in March 2021. The song is so simple yet so alluring. The theme revolves around a girl he loves, who is currently in a relationship with another person, but he still wants to be part of her life; he makes her laugh when her partner upsets her, and he cries so many times while her hand is in the hands of another.

He tells her that he will hide her from everyone’s eyes, and he will protect her from them, and on her birthday, he will sing her all the songs that have been sung until this day, and he will still not do her just.

I cannot even?

Malibu – Miley Cyrus: I heard this song first during the summer of 2017, and every time I listen to it, I close my eyes, and I see myself sitting on a shore on the last days of summer, looking at a sunset and feeling a slight chill because autumn is near. This song reminds me of healing, reminds me that after summer, there is always winter, and winter is always happy.

Please note that I don’t have a music identity and that I listen to Miley Cyrus, System Of A Down, Pink Floyd, The Smiths, Abdulhalim, Alternative Arabic, all in one playlist. But we can discuss this later.

General overview: a- Typos b- Content✍️

Where to begin? When I first created this beautiful space, I was at B-Hive; Maysa was helping me with organizing my volunteers’ database, and I was supposed to reply to emails, but all I was doing was designing this blog from scratch. The template, font, color, photos, categories, tools, widgets, appearances, everything. It was too thrilling, and I was so intrigued to borne something so dear to my heart from empty white canvas.

It has been an incredible journey, and I think this blog is solely the best thing I ever did for myself. It is healing me in so many ways I cannot describe.

Looking back at the past year, I cannot but think of all the insanely magnificent people I have met, hugged, loved, cried for. The ones who left and the ones who stayed, the people that shaped me into what I am today, the ones who broke me and rebuilt me, they all are immortalized here, in every word and every photo, and I am in bliss.

On spelling and grammar mistakes – I would like to sincerely apologize for all the typos and grammar errors in my writings. I acknowledge most, and my camera roll is full of screenshots of typos that I find when I reread all posts, and I say I want to fix them, and I never do. I will someday, I promise.

Content – this marks not only one year of blogging but also my 100th post. Granted, I expected to write more in one year, but 100 posts mean one post every four days for a whole year and??? wow.

I know that the figures are inaccurate, that I have probably written five articles in one day, and that I have skipped July and August, but the range is good enough for me, and I am so happy I committed for a whole year. I did not expect that.

There are times where I thought that if I didn’t have anyone reading my blog-as per my analytics-I would be discouraged to write, but that was not the case. There were many times where I had zero visitors, and I still wrote because I enjoy writing, and even though I LOVE it when you read my posts, I am also happy to write for myself.

Feedback📝

The outstanding feedback you have given me the past year is too heart-wrenching to even speak of. I absolutely loved your feedback, and for those who read my blog in silence, please do talk to me, give me feedback, feed the confidence of the 12 years old nour that lives inside me and that dreams of people loving her and what she writes.

Your feedback not only encourages me to write but also keeps me alive. You have no idea how much it means to me that the one thing I absolutely love, the one thing I think I am good at, and the one thing that has accompanied me through all my life, is something you think I’m good at too. It’s like telling an insecure bird that it can fly. You encourage me to spread my wings, and I am so grateful.

Your words, I remain in awe.

FAQ❓

A question I frequently get is: who’s the person you keep writing love letters to? The answer to this answers the other frequent question: why do you not tell me what you write about?

Because if I could speak about what I write, I wouldn’t really write it. I created this blog to be able to share all the things I cannot talk about, so I can never really explain to you the context behind most of what I write about because I honestly cannot express it.

There’s always a face to my letters, there’s always a certain somebody that I am thinking of as I write, but it isn’t really one person. I have probably written to/about at least five persons, and if you’re smart enough, you’ll figure yourself out.

But forgive me, I can never tell you more than you are reading, so you’ll probably have to read through the lines.

This answers the following frequent question: why so depressive most of the time? Because I am not accustomed to sharing when I am sad, which is why I would only write them here. It’s not really about me being depressed; it’s really just that these are things I cannot express or talk about, yet I need to rid myself of them somewhere, and et voila, I have a blog for that.

Would you take negative feedback? I’m sorry, but no. If you have negative thoughts about my blog, please refrain from sharing them with me. The blog is too personal, it is me putting myself out there, with all my raw emotions and personal experiences, and you criticizing means you are criticizing my feelings, my personality, and I’m not confident enough to accept that.

Photos – cover photos🖼️

Out of the 100+ photos shared here, only 5 of them are not mine, but all photos reflect a very personal moment, a cherished minute, a loveful memory, a second that I wanted to immortalize. All photos have meaning and a story behind them; it usually takes me considerable time to choose a photo.

As for the cover photo, it was taken at Concierge coffee shop while I was with Ghassan during one of our infinite study/work dates. Before COVID-19, Ghassan and I met almost daily at coffee shops, mainly New Yorker, to work and study, and they were precious times. Thank you, Ghassan, I may have never thanked you for the lovely memories, and I hope if you ever read this that you know I am grateful.

Maybe I’ll change the cover photo? To mark one year of this baby alive and kicking, but perhaps I don’t because I’m boring and because I don’t like change. I’ll think about it 💭

Today🎋

Yesterday was one of those sweeter days where I had my moments of being a social butterfly, and I made new friends and held tight to old ones. I

finished work at 8:00pm, came back home, showered, and reflected on how much I enjoyed every moment of this Wednesday. It’s 1:15am right now, and I will probably finish this by 1:45am, and I will probably be able to fall asleep at 2-2:30am, and I need to wake up at 6:30am tomorrow because I need to be at the office at 8:00am to finish pending tasks from yesterday, and I will be finished work at 6:00pm because I have a meeting at 5:00pm, so that is ten hours of work, and I will be waking up dead because I need my 9 hours of beauty sleep and I won’t have that.

But, that’s alright, writing all this here is worth it, plus my friend is taking me out for Shawarma after work, so it is okay.

Plans & future🩰

I plan to continue writing, to bore you with the details of my pain and the thoroughness of my days. I plan to tell you everything, share my days with you, write poems and short stories, and everything. I plan to keep loving this blog as much as I do now, and maybe more.

There are some things that I really want to start with, like taking creative writing courses and enrolling myself in aerial yoga, but I am not good with resolutions and, given my crunched schedule, I will not give any promises.

Round of applause👏

I am forever humbled that you take moments of your day to read this. Honestly, no words amount to how grateful I am for you. For the readers and my friends and the strangers, I am forever thanking you for being the most beautiful souls.

Thank you for giving me a chance, for loving me in all the times I did not deserve love. Thank you for all the memories that I cannot fit in this very long post; thank you for yesterday and all the tomorrows.

Thank you for everything, thank you for this blog, thank you for a world so wonderful. Thank you, and good night.

🎤

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I won’t let you die

I won’t let you die.

I will not allow it. I will keep you alive in the dimmest rooms, and I’ll cover you with sunshine on my way out. 

I will not keep you alive in memories, I will keep you alive in my current days, in my morning coffee and 5pm walk, I will keep you alive in songs that were never about you but now will be. I will keep you alive in things that remind me of you, in songs that look like you, songs that make me feel as happy as you made me feel. I refuse to let you fade away, I will grow you as a black mold on my walls and I will let you grow until I can no longer breathe, until your very existence suffocates me. I will keep you with me, I will keep you alive. 

You cannot die, not at this time and at this place, I will make sure to include you in my moments, in the superstitious smiles I sneak to the ones that hate me and the false hope I give to my lovers, I will make sure to bring you with me to my ugliest moments and I will make sure you will live then with me. 

I an no longer scared of you, no longer scared of how much you ruin me. I will keep you here, very close to me, and I will not let you escape.

I will keep you with me even if you do not want to be, even if you beg me to let you go, I will keep you alive because I am selfish and because this is where you were and this where you need to be. And  I’m selfish because I know that if you’re not here the places you will fly to are surreal, places even I cannot reach, and I can’t keep up, and you’ll fly very far away from me. And I will not be able to survive the drought.

I need you to stay here because you made me feel alive in a desolate town, you held my hands in a starless night and smiled at me as if it is all okay when we both know it wasn’t. I need you here, beside me, because it is so morbid without you and you know it.

You’re very toxic and I am over my head and I don’t care, the toxicity of the moments are very lucid and it helps me wake up in the morning, and I am fine.