You see, I’m naturally an introvert — quiet corners, deep
thoughts, the type to overthink a handshake. But life? Life
keeps putting me on stages, in conversations that feel like
marathons for my soul. So yeah, stepping out as an extrovert?
That’s not performance, that’s survival. A daily challenge
with no dress rehearsal.

I’m a softie — but not the breakable kind. No, this softness?
It’s pressure-cooked from hard times. It knows the weight of
silence, and how to turn pain into patience. I’m not here to
pretend to be hard — I’m here to show that being real is rarer.

Now, let’s talk love. I’m a full-blown lover boy — heart open,
arms wide, playlist ready. But don’t get it twisted — I’m not in
the business of having my love used as someone else’s stepping
stone. I’ve retired from being the emotional charity.

And my smile? Oh, it’s got layers. A whole palette of moods.
Bright for the world, but the darker shades? Those are reserved.
A private gallery. Only for the ones I cherish, the ones who earn
the right to see me unfiltered.

So if you meet me — don’t just notice the calm, or the kindness,
or the charm. Know there’s a storm I’ve already walked through
to be standing this still.

To the girls who grew up too fast,
now women who cling to hopes of magic,
I'd like to propose a toast and raise a glass-
the reality we escape from is tragic.

Whether your vision is a knight or prince,
or even a jester at times,
I want you to know I feel less alone,
drinking tea and reading your rhymes.

To the ones who whisper to stars at night,
who still make wishes when clocks strike eleven- eleven,
we may not have fairytales etched in gold,
but we scribble our own versions of heaven.

To the ones who carry too much weight,
and still find time to dream,
here’s to healing in fragments and poems,
and patching our hearts at the seams.

I don't know how to end a story, don't see when the plot has died
Especially when it's a good scene, and the mood is always just right
The sun is setting- there's lovers on the beach, the future stands before them with nothing out of reach
Maybe that's not in the cards they pulled, I should let the story line fade out, but that makes me physically ill,
"They belong together" I shout-
And I'll stall the scene with every breathe, hoping hope can out-write loves death