I am a neurodivergent and introverted poet from Alpha Centauri currently touring your Solar System. Yes, I am an alien. Be my reader at your human risk.
Letters Unsent is a collection of reflections and musings—thoughts I often write as letters to myself or to an imagined world. These words remain unsent, holding emotions and ideas meant for deeper reflection, waiting to be shared with those who pause to listen.
I hate being touched by humans unnecessarily, yet sometimes I crave it. I don’t know how it feels to have been touched respectfully, desirably, admirably, humanly, spiritually, emotionally, physically. They say there is this first-time touch for everyone that gets infused inside your very atoms. I am waiting for mine. — Sadia Hakim
I need an extraordinary amount of solitude to function as a human. I turn exceptionally demonic and irate when people rob me of the opportunity to be alone and silent. Give me silence. Give me solitude. And the monster inside me will stay human. — Sadia Hakim
All my life I have been a rower of two boats. I have been here physically and somewhere else mentally. My existence is split, my soul is cut, my heart is rent asunder. Sadia Hakim
Sometimes you just have to go to the ocean, throw your grief in ir. Sometimes, grief needs to be drowned in its own depth, darkness, and solitude.
A caterpillar must find its way out of chrysalis to be a butterfly. sadia hakim
It’s a miserably painful curse, to be born with a heart this sensitive. It’s a terribly pitiful suffering, to be born in a society this desensitized. Isn’t it ironic that a world lacking the basic empathy and decency of being human labels those who have it as “hypersensitive”? — Sadia Hakim
Art was always political because art challenges these very things that fool people and destroy civilizations. It must. ~ Sadia Hakim _______ In the time of moral crisis, oppression and inhumanity, literature that doesn’t challenge societal norms should be incinerated or else it will reduce your morals to ashes. And art that doesn’t cater to […]
I am not an easy person. Not in the ways that most people hope for. I overthink every word I say and every silence that follows. I replay conversations that happened five years ago, wondering if I came across as too much or not enough.
Will I stop stargazing and moon gazing? Or will I become more addicted to them? I asked myself while thinking about being tied to the wrong person, trapped in the wrong version of life. Will I still be able to cherish the first flower in my planter? Will I still be able to cherish rain? […]
Every sane person bleeds somewhere you can’t see. Some drown in routine, some in silence, some in love that never loved them back. Every sane person has their own madness, every healed person has their own wars, every wounded person has their own scars. As for me, please remember that I am a sane woman, […]