I was born a dreamer, seeing the world through sunlit glass, believing in knights who slay dragons, in comrades who fight back to back, in friends who keep secrets like coins in a palm, in someone who sees beauty the way I do.
But life leaned close and whispered loss, its breath a weight on my chest. The light grew thin— and I slipped into a well of silence.
I waited for rescue: a brave knight, a steadfast comrade, a loyal friend. But the world moved past, its footsteps fading like rain.
Then came the choice: sink, or climb.
So, hand over hand, I learned the rough rhythm of stone, found music in the scrape and strain. I learned to face dragons, to keep my own counsel, to make beauty that no one names.
Now I stand at the rim, palms scarred, heart steady, sunlight spilling through the storm. No wind beneath me— but still, I fly.
She was born with a heart of glass— clear, beautiful, breakable. Even as a child, she knew the danger of being seen through. So she smiled politely, spoke gently, and built distance like a moat around a castle of solitude.
She learned to keep her secrets like treasure in a box— safe, quiet, unseen. Her laughter was light, her expression unchanging. No one saw the emotion beneath, surging like a restless tide.
But one day, loneliness whispered louder than caution’s voice. She wanted warmth, wanted to feel the press of friendship close. So she cracked open the door, let the light spill in, and let them inside.
One by one, they cracked the glass. The first, with envy’s ink, wrote her story in a book— her pain made into poetry for others to read. The second whispered her secrets to hungry ears, turning trust into gossip. And the third—oh, the cruelest— took her soul’s bare words and stabbed her with a knife, then left her shattered and alone.
She gathered the pieces, bloody-handed, trembling, and built her walls a mile high and ten feet deep. Now she hides her heart behind them, her face a well-crafted mask— gentle, agreeable, kind, unchanging.
Her heart still beats, but faintly, echoing through crystal fractures. She listens, she nods, she never disagrees. The world thinks her calm, unbreakable, strong— but she knows the truth: if ever she let someone close again, if ever she dared to love or trust, her heart of glass would finally shatter into dust.
Moonlight held her, the sea unending. Her boat rocked softly, with the ripple of water.
She was grateful for the breeze, the quiet night
She remembered days of fire, the sun scorching her skin. Days of fury, waves that wanted to crush her.
Time melted; hours into days, days into years, until even time was lost.
Yet a shadow of a place remained, Hidden in the deepest corners of her mind: Solid earth beneath her feet, Fields golden in the sun, Air fragrant with freshly baked bread and sweet jasmine blossoms, Voices bright with laughter, A hearth that glowed with warmth, Arms that sheltered her in safety, A love that asked nothing in return.
She desperately clung to this image, perhaps only a dream.
But just in case, she picked up the oars and rowed.
I thrash in the restless tide, the surface slipping farther from my grasp. My breath scatters into bubbles, and the sea folds me into its silence.
Through a wavering veil of liquid glass, I glimpse you, a figure bent and trembling with the current, your hand stretching toward me.
Hope flickers like a fragile flame underwater. I rise, desperate for its light.
But when I break the surface, my heart splinters into shards for you do not lift me from the deep. Instead, you lay your burdens in my arms, stones that drag me under.
Unseeing, you leave me to sink with my extinguished hope.
As the sun melted into the horizon, She danced recklessly across the sky Scattering a trail of color behind her, Draping clouds in rose-gold silk, Laughing in streaks of amber and flame.
Bold. Unapologetic. Radiant. As if the night could never dim her joy.
A blazing yellow. Fiery orange. Then brilliant red. And finally, a regal purple.
For a fleeting moment, The whole world paused— Held by the breathless beauty Of her last light.
But too soon, The colors began to bleed into dusk, Fading to the dull grey-blue of twilight As the light slipped quietly away.
What once burned so brightly Became only a whisper on the horizon— The brilliance of her sunset Now, just a faint memory. 9:41 PM
You show your love Not in grand gestures, Nor eloquent words, Or extravagant gifts— But in quiet presence.
When storms close in around me, You are the steady rock beneath my feet. When I lose confidence, You are the wind that lifts me higher Pushing me to be a better version of myself.
When the future feels uncertain And the world turns against me, Your strong arms wrap around me. I have the strength to go on because Somehow, I know—we’ll walk through it together.
I pour out my secrets to you Because you listen with your heart. I’m not afraid to cry in front of you— Because you never turn away.
You are the friend and confidant I’ve never truly had. No matter where I go in the world, I always find my way back to you. In the stillness, In the hush between thoughts, You are my home.
Some moments in life are too beautiful—and too fragile—to capture with a photograph. The instant you reach for the camera, the moment shatters like glass.
I mourn that I cannot share these fleeting glimpses of beauty with the world. So instead, I quietly etch them into memory, tucking them away like hidden gems. On rainy days, I take them out again and let them fill my soul with light.
Since I have no pictures to show you, I will try to describe them the best I can.
Snapshot 1 One afternoon, I pause on my way to the market to watch a group of children playing in their front yard. The golden sunlight filters through the trees, casting a soft, almost magical glow over the scene. Their laughter rings out as they chase one another—completely unaware they are creating something sacred. No one is posing. No one is performing. Just pure, unfiltered joy.
Snapshot 2 There’s a small wooden house in my neighborhood, tucked between much nicer homes. A humble place—worn, but full of life. The family who lives there are day laborers, toiling each day just to put food on the table.
One day, I pass by and see the mother and grandmother bathing the baby in a small tub out front. As they tenderly care for the little one, the world fades around them. Their movements are gentle, their eyes full of love. It’s clear: this child is their treasure. This moment—so simple, so human—quietly stirs something deep in me.
Snapshot 3 And then there’s the man at the market who sells eggs. He greets every customer with the warmest, most sincere smile—like he’s truly glad you came. He carefully helps you pick out the best eggs, and always insists on giving a discount for larger purchases. He never rushes. He gives dignity to something small. Somehow, his presence feels like a gift.
I love beautiful things. And I find people the most beautiful of all. Sometimes, those fleeting moments—where you catch a glimpse of something real and luminous—are worth saving in your heart.
I stand on the edge of a cliff. Below me, the sea roars so loudly it drowns out every other sound. Lightning slices across the sky, and thunder shakes the ground beneath my feet. Rain lashes my face. The wind cuts straight through me, chilling me to the bone.
I am utterly alone.
The thought sinks deep, filling me with despair. All I can sense is the storm—its noise, its fury, its weight pressing in on me. My senses are overwhelmed. My heart is in turmoil.
But then, in the darkness, I catch a glimpse—just a thread, a sliver of light.
And I remember: none of this is real.
What I see… what I hear… what I feel… it’s not real.
I close my eyes. I breathe deeply. I will my racing heart to slow. Little by little, the storm begins to fade. The rain stops. The icy wind softens into a warm breeze. Over the lingering echo of waves, I hear the low, mellow notes of a cello.
My breathing steadies. I let the music carry me, gently floating.
The sea joins in with its rhythm—soft, rolling waves. The sweet scent of jasmine rises in the air. I open my eyes and see the night sky stretched wide, painted with a million stars.
This anonymous heart 