For my 24 year old self. Listen?

Do you still like the color gray/grey?
Do you still have short hair?
Do you still like your eyes?
Do you still hate the way your hands look?
Do you still hate the crookedness of your smile?
Do you still make excuses for not attending parties?
Do you still have those same fantasies?
Do you still think about that one ‘certain’ person?
Do you still hate the color orange and yellow?
Do you still don’t quite know why you hate those colors?
Do you still hate the combination of green and red? or yellow and purple?
Do you still have that memory box?
Do you still feel insecure about those few (3) people?
Do you still love pencils more than pens?
Do you still hate sunlight?
Do you still like August and October?
Do you still dislike March or September?
Do you still love winters?
Do you still save pebbles from places you don’t want to forget?
Do you still like leaves more than flowers?
Do you still hate to cry in front of people?
Do you still hate being vulnerable when around people?
Do you still like to remain unnoticed?
Do you still like going for a walk on a wintry night?
Do you still love the darkness of winters?
Do you still have the same set of friends?
Do you still can not pick up fights?
Do you still hate confrontations?
Do you still like the number nine or eleven?
Do you still love nights more than day times?
Do you still like the word ‘subtle’ or ‘often’ ?
Do you still LOVE kids?
Do you still listen to that ‘one’ song you love?
Do you still like to listen more than say?
Do you still write in your journal?
Do you still hate getting clicked?
Do you still go to hide in that ‘place’ when you’re feeling sad?
Do you still don’t get your eyebrows done?
Do you still feel easily attracted to quiet and shy guys?
Do you still hate the idea of splurging?
Do you still love the feeling of nostalgia and déjà vu?
Do you still read books?
Do you still like to write?
Do you still like space stuff?
Do you still love collecting memories?
Do you still like calls more than texts?
Do you still feel anxious in crowded places?
Do you still blog?
Do you still don’t believe in god? or karma? or destiny?
Do you still hate your nose?
Do you still like silhouettes just because.. you know?
Do you still dislike your voice?
Do you still talk to yourself more than you talk to people?
Do you still don’t understand why that is sad?
Do you still get scared when you hear someone yell?
Do you still get worried when you hear someone breathe heavily?
Do you still don’t understand homophobia?
Do you still find highlighters really strange?
Do you still like homely clothes?
Do you still dislike weather conversations?
Do you still don’t understand monthly anniversaries?
Do you still feel guilty for that ‘one’ thing?
Do you still hate yourself for that ‘one’ thing?
Do you still start almost every sentence with “I don’t know”?
Do you still like to learn about thoughts of different people?
Do you still get awkward in groups?
Do you still like math?
Do you still don’t understand polytheism?
Do you still curl up when someone’s about to hug you?
Do you still like being alone?
Do you still overthink?
Do you like yourself?

Not a Verse, But few thoughts #4

Whenever I read a novel or any book for that matter, I always put a star or at least mark the lines that makes me smile. It doesn’t have to be some big revelations or deep thought or hidden meanings or life changing quotes or the-lines-that-makes-you-wonder-why lines. It could be as simple as an “okay” or a “hi”. Oh you ask why? (hopefully)
It’s because, if someday or if one day, I give that book to someone and that someone when will fall upon those lines, for that half of a second
they will think about me. (Hopefully). And
they will know what makes me smile And
they will know the reason behind my smiles And
they will know what makes my heart happy And
they will smile too. (Again, hopefully). And
our reasons and moments and thoughts for that half a second will align. :))

© 2019 _occultatum_ blogunseen.com

A Verse Tried #8

'She' was 'taught' to
hide her scars
And reduce her carbs.
She was to taught to
feed her insecurities
And bury her rarities.
She was taught to
be shy and giggly.
And was taught to
stay short and skinny.
She was taught to
not say things out loud
And was taught to
forever follow the crowd.
Taught to walk 'like a girl'
Taught to talk 'like a girl'.
To dress like one
and to sit like one.
But as time passed
Slowly
she 'learned' that
the mark near her eye
the scar on her thigh,
the mole on her chin
the pores of her skin,
the loose shirt she loves
the crooked smile she hides,
the extra skin she covers
the messy hair of hers
are just a part of her beauty,
Beauty which is more than skin deep.
Beauty which is more than 'he' could keep.

© 2019 _occultatum_ blogunseen.com