WHAT ELSE, AGAIN?

July 15th at exactly 8:43pm was the last substack piece I wrote and since then, one million and one things has happened to me that I can barely put into words. Is it losing every part of me? Submitting applications and eventually not getting in? Is it getting to the top 45 in a poetry competition and not eventually winning? Is it failing? and many more. For someone that breaks down at every little inconvenience or failure, I'm handling things too softly that I fear the day I'll break down. I'm trying too hard to stay strong. To be sane. to be happy amidst life's chaos but every time that happiness feels short-lived one way or the other. I'm losing myself and maybe I choose not to be bothered by how many pieces of me I have to shed out before I finally get myself again. I also don't get to talk about my friends enough. The ones that keep holding me through this tough moment of my life. The ones that never get tired of my unending mood swings. The ones that choose to stay amidst all the chaos. The ones that are present. The ones that checked up on me when I fell sick and when I fell out of the loop and even when things were roughly smooth for me. Oh my friends!❤️ I honestly have little to no idea why I'm writing this piece but, here's one beautiful thing I hope you get away with from this post. I'd love to share the poem I wrote last month for a contest. It gave me the opportunity to research and I was able to read about the "Aba's women riot of 1929". They were such fierce women. History never erases names nor forget moments It hides beneath the dust of our mother's footsteps, The land that held their breath, their lives, of which was never forgotten. This land- this land wasn't raised in silence nor was it handed to us on a platter of gold. So, I refuse to whisper the tales of these women into the wind. 1929 came with its charges, Tens of thousands of women wore strength like armour, Feets beating the earth into warning, As their tongues sang praises of their worth on foreign soil. As their lungs refuse to hold air even in the face of the oppressors "You do not walk into a warfront without a sword" "You do not teach a bitten dog to wag its tail when there's a sting" So when power meets fire in these women's throats It learns, that even burned words were never meant to stay cool. ©rahmat_writes. Great poem, yeahhh? I hope life is forever kind to everyone. To be in a constant loop of holding it together until you can't anymore is such a heavy chore. Till I write again❤️