"I Slept, And Slept, With My Brain Alive"

I want to believe in myself,

but who the fuck am I??

Lines that start with "If I could ...." are so painful. They remind me of emotions I've experienced before but haven't been able to confess , to my own self or to anyone ever , their anger and fear borne numbness wording long dead dreams into a broken sentence , drawing parallels between a world we drew as kids and the one we lived through gasping for the very colors we were promised...

I wish to be held close , curled up in bed, with someone whispering " it's alright, everything will be alright " , as I cry with outmost uncertainty and numbness / I wish to feel the warmth of their breath , as I lay with clenched fists, tears rolling down my cheeks , my nails etching moons on my sweaty palms / their hands slowly slipping into mine, asking me to hold on for a little longer, promising me that they'll never leave me / I wish to feel the prevailing silence mixed with a sense of belonging / I wish to live these moments with someone, I wish to not be left alone...

- my autumn soul, dying beautifully everyday...

Who am I?

"A teenager painting life post sunny skies in her own shades own of blue and grey, dull and mundane , yet beautiful"

I didn't know of people being placid yet devoured ,in times of uncertainty, writing prophecies of each other's doom...

I keep forgetting myself

I hear laughter in your wailing eyes ,

I see sinners in disguise,

I hear chants of broken prayers,

I see failed and anguished men...

all , as I seek for hope in the worst of times

all, as I seek for hope in the worst of times...

" If I could love you, I'd write about us everyday" - Astha 24.01.2022

I wish to walk through crowds of people , and to be filled with a sense of sonder and disbelief as to how I'd be able to access the most fascinating of stories...