افتكرت دلوقتي اني كتبت ماسيدج لنفسي في عيد ميلادي اللي فات على future me عشان تجيلي عيد ميلادي الجاي وحاليا مش فاكره منها كلمه مرعبوبةةةةة وندمانةةةةةة
Died for language failed to bear the depths of all she buried in her heart.
Died for grief wouldn't grant her the mercy of an ending.
Died for in her eyes, misery stretched on with no shore in sight.
But how can you ever explain that the true barrier is you, locked in an endless war with your own mind? That death whispers to you more often than life does and that you see yourself so flawed, so unworthy, that even existence feels like a gift you were never meant to receive
No one will wait for you when you're lost within yourself, when the compass inside you falters. They won't wait as you fail them, for you are unable to do otherwise
You cling to the fragments of strength you have, yet they slip through your hands. It takes a lifetime to understand yourself, to steady the compass that spins within.