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.
But honey, how many wounds can you show to this world? How many wars? How many battlegrounds? You get tired of bleeding in front of people. Tired of sharing your scars, tired of bandaging your wounds alone. You get tired of asking for help. Even your pain gets tired. And people… they always get tired. […]
You worry about the wrong partner, but maybe marriage isn’t even in your destiny… maybe your soul will be called back before that time.
I think I do not like people who do not have solitude or loneliness as a choice or an option, but have it as the last option or a compulsion. Never ever dare fall for someone who cannot be alone, who cannot sit alone, who cannot walk alone, who cannot eat alone, who cannot go […]
Knowledge, when not translated into mercy, becomes arrogance. Worship, when detached from empathy, becomes self-serving.
The only way you can impress me is by being a human. I don’t care about your social status as much as I care about your emotional and human status. A person who can’t be emotionally intelligent can be neither spiritually nor intellectually intelligent. I don’t care about the house you live in, but I […]
Choosing yourself will feel like losing everyone and everything. That’s when it cuts the deepest — when you’re forced to decide between you and the world.
Destiny — qadar, they say. It can be between the curves of your hands, and still not yours. — Sadia Hakim
In my dreams, I come home to you.Not because I choose to — it just happens.Like my mind’s holding onto somethingit can’t find in real life. You.This idea of you.This feeling that maybe, for once,I belong somewhere —not in places, not with people, just with you. But then I wake up.And it’s gone.Just air, just […]
I’ll be dreaming about the most random things — and boom, it’s you. Everything I dream about, I dream about with you.
Back then, love didn’t need labels. It was just moments — built quietly with kindness, care, and memory. And somehow, those little things stayed with us longer than anything else.