Keyboard warrior
There are twenty six alphabets
strong enough
to make someone’s day,
or make you fall in love,
maybe even hold destruction by the scruff
of its neck and save the planet.
You can raise toasts, gods, hell
and sing them lullabies.
You can turn humans into life-savers.
There are twenty six alphabets
at the core of every soul.
Stop fucking poetry.
“it’s easy to be a writer in 2019”
what makes you think it’s easy
to be a writer ever?
Some get traumatized
by bullying or an early divorce or assault
and they write war cries
down on paper. Every syllable, every decibel,
screaming louder than their oppressors.
It’s the scream, the pain, the voice
of survival.
Some stay happy
because everything worked out
and they pen down crooked smiles
and sunshine on paper. They heal you
one hope at a time.
I write about love
because even though my heart has been broken,
it’s still beating
and I find that magical.
I find it amazing that I can live as a thousand pieces
and love new people in new ways.
I find it beautiful that a broken heart
still falls in love when it needs to.
Autumn
The love of my life was named Autumn but she hated her name as much as I loved it. “It reminds me of everyone who has died, of everyone who has turned into gold leaves and stars,” she’d say every time I asked her why.
Continue reading Autumn.A storyteller’s guide.
Hey! I honestly don’t know if it’s a guide from a storyteller to us normal people about life or it’s a guide to storytellers, so I decided to let it be both (Like Theon was both a Stark and a Greyjoy – Game of Thrones reference). I hope you like it! Do tell me if you do. The comments section is all yours. Show some love?
Hidden in the blankets of old streets in Paris was a blue house. A story-teller lived in this house that smelled of the ocean. His name was Zale.
Zale’s house was filled with objects that he’d collected over time that represented different story-telling principles. A black toy gun from when he was eight was framed in a glass box to remind him of Chekhov’s Gun concept. His (now dead) bird’s cage hung from the fan in his living room but its tiny gate was open to suggest artistic license. A ball-pen placed on his first ever tablet to characterize Juxtapose.
Continue reading A storyteller’s guide.My therapist is very weird.
I’ve always wondered what my therapist would be like if I ever went to one. I’ve also wondered what I would be like if I was a therapist. Well, I guess you could say this piece is a mixture of the two. It also has the cutest ending ever. I hope you like it. Comment and tell me if you did. Enjoy!
“So what is it like – being human and all?” My therapist asked.
“That’s a very weird question.” I answered.
“I’ll rephrase. What is it like – being you?”
“It’s crazy, honestly. But here you go -” and I told her. I told her about my favorite childhood memories like the hundred family long drives with songs and hot chocolate and how they the memories shaped me. “I don’t have coffee anymore,” I told her about my tenth birthday and how I spent it chasing my friends in a ‘catch-me-if-you-can’ game. “It was hilarious. We were in a shopping mall that had these gaming sections and furniture shops spread over three, maybe four floors. I was running, trying to catch my friends who were always on a different floor. I’d take the escalator for the first floor and they would giggle and take the escalator to the ground floor. And then I’d try to run down on an elevator going up to catch them faster and every time I did that, they would do the opposite. Those days,” I said and smiled.
“Do you still feel like you’re chasing things and are on the wrong side of the escalator, Afra?”
“God, no. Chill. So anyway,” and I continued my tale. Eventually, I reached the tough parts of my life. I told her about how my days seemed to be going nowhere and how the nights had promised to stay forever. I told her they were damn good at keeping their promises. I went on and on about weird things like how I was claustrophobic everywhere except in my own room and about Christmas parties that I wish I’d never attended so that I wouldn’t have met the guys I dated. “Everybody keeps telling me about the ways I can make things better but they’re all just shitty ideas. I’m headed nowhere. Me living like this is like a dog driving a car except that dogs don’t drive cars.”
“Well, you clearly have never seen my doggo.”
“You’re a weird therapist.”
“Look!”
Liked it? – My therapist talks too much
Instagram – @myspirals
My Spirals 