wizanah

[wizanah]

𝑃𝑜𝑒𝑡𝑟𝑦 : 𝐴 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑙𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛.

I grew up in a family where laughter bloomed, But somehow, I always left the room. Their voices filled the house with light, While I sat quietly, out of sight. They shared their jokes, their inside lines, But never once included mine. I learned to smile without a sound, To clap when others gathered round. They hugged each other without being asked, Their pain was noticed, mine was masked. When I was hurting, I’d walk away- No one ever asked me to stay. They had their favorites, that was clear, And I was simply... standing near. Not hated, but not quite loved, Just someone breathing, not thought of. I wasn’t jealous - they deserved the light, But part of me wondered if I had that right. If someone could love me the same way too, Without being told what I had to do. I waited years for one kind hand, Someone who’d choose to understand. To knock, to ask, to sit, to see- To simply say, “You’re safe with me.” But silence wrapped around my name, And somehow I became the blame. Too quiet, too odd, too out of place- Too easy to erase. I taught myself to never cry- To hold it in, to question why. Why they could hold the others close, And leave me aching, almost-ghost. I stitched my sadness into skin, And learned to bury all within. They had each other-strong and tight, While I kept searching for some light. Not gifts, not gold, not something grand, Just one soft voice to understand. One person who would take my part, And hold the pieces of my heart. I didn't ask for grand affection, A single person, a true connection. Just one soft heart in all that kin- But all my life, through all that's been...

[wizanah]

I don't understand why she's so underrated, or are we just gatekeeping her? Just let me know.

[wizanah]

Katherine May, from Wintering: How I learned to Flourish when Life became Frozen 

[wizanah]

𝑁𝑜𝑡 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑎 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑒𝑚 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛.

[wizanah]

[wizanah]

[wizanah]

[wizanah]

Blessed to live in a world where there are nights

[wizanah]

[wizanah]

"𝐴 𝑝𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑛 𝑖 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑝𝑒"

I don’t know why, but every time I start to feel close to someone, something in my mind begins searching for reasons-any excuse-to push them away. It’s like my brain starts planning an escape I never asked for. I don’t want to lose them, I don’t want to detach… but I always end up doing it. It’s a cycle I’ve lived through more times than I can count: I meet someone, I grow close, and then, without meaning to, I begin to distance myself. I hate that it happens, but I can’t seem to stop it. I honestly don’t know what’s wrong with me.

I don’t even feel anything when it happens-and maybe that’s what unsettles me the most. It’s not sadness, not guilt… just a strange emptiness. But still, I hate that I keep doing it. I hate not knowing why. And the worst part is, whenever I meet someone new, I can already sense the moment it’ll all repeat. I can see it coming-the exact point where I know I’ll start pulling away again, even if I don’t want to.

[wizanah]

Poem-Loved when I died.

If love ever finds me, It will be the only time when I'm dead. In the form of flowers, Finding life around my deathbed. Under the moonlight, beneath the stars, I will be hugged by a coffin instead. No fingers reached when I once cried, No warm hands held me while alive. Alive, I was a fleeting breeze— A ghost in crowds, begging to be seen. But- When I faded, soft and still, The world began to love at will. Death arrived, a gentle guest, And laid my aching soul to rest. Petals rained where none had mourn, Willows called me their very own. A moth fluttered around my grave, As if to say, “You were so brave.” The sky wore black in mourning grace, And winds caressed my silent face. The stars blinked soft like eyes in tears, Whispering stories through the years. The rain arrived with gentle hands, To trace my cheeks and hair strands. No lover’s arms, no kind goodbye, But violets kissed my closed-shut eye. The earth once cold, now held me dear. The warmth I longed for every year. Petals of hope,where silence once grew, A garden rose from death’s cold dew. And now I rest, no longer denied. Not by people—but by petals dignified. Though cold and still, I’m glorified— I was finally Loved when I died. . .

[wizanah]

“I’ve wasted a lot of time in my life. I’ve thought too much about what people will say or what they’re gonna think. And sometimes it’s over silly things like going to the grocery store or going to the post office. But there have been times when I really stopped myself from doing something special. All because I was scared someone might look at me and decide I wasn’t good enough. But you don’t have to bother with that nonsense. I wasted all that time so you don’t have to.”

— Julie Murphy, Dumplin’

[wizanah]

About me...

Name : Anah

Birthdate : 12/July/2007

Birthplace : India

MBTI : INTJ-T

My Aesthetic : Somewhere between Dark and Chaotic Academia.

Things I adore :

Conversations that challenge my entire worldview.

Midnight Rain tapping against old windows.

Beautiful contradictions - logic and longing.

Abandoned buildings with stories untold.

Deep, uninterrupted thought.

Art that's haunting, quiet, and honest.

Philosophy, especially Nietzsche and Camus.

Classical music laced with melancholy (Chopin, Debussy, Mahler).

Anonymity in crowded places.

Things I can't stand:

Forced socialization.

Betrayal of logic for blind tradition.

Romanticizing ignorance.

Being asked “why are you so quiet?”.

Crowds that feel like noise.

Repetition without refinement.

Hobbies that keep me sane :

Journaling like I’m in a confessional.

Reading ancient myths and psychological case studies.

Silently studying people’s behavior and motives.

Reading about obscure history and hidden societies.

Organizing playlists based on moods I can’t name.

Writing quiet poetry no one will read - except maybe one.

Movies I like : The Prestige, Arrival, Dead Poets Society,The Imitation Game, Stalker (Tarkovsky), Portrait of a Lady on Fire, The Secret Window, Inception, Gone Girl, A Ghost Story.

Authors Who Speak to Me : Edgar Allan Poe, friedrich Neitzche, Albert Camus.

Songs That Sound Like Me :

“Oblivion” - Grimes

“Youth” - Daughter

“Vienna” - Billy Joel

“The Night We Met” -Lord Huron

“Breathe Me” - Sia

“Fade into you” - Mazzy Star

“In My Veins” - Andrew Belle

Fav music genres : Classical, vocal jazz, rythm & blues.

Social Life : Selective.

I prefer intense one-on-one connections over group dynamics. I’m loyal to the very few who truly know me - and indifferent to the rest. I show up when it matters, not just when it’s expected. Small circles. Rare bonds. Real or nothing. Meaningful presence.

Moral Code :

Loyalty is sacred -Once broken, it doesn’t mend.

Intent matters - I don’t forget cruelty masked as care.

Respect over affection - I don’t need to be loved, but I demand to be respected.

Emotions & Expression :

I feel deeply, but quietly.

My emotions are structured, internalized, and often translated into words, art, or action. I rarely express in real time - I process alone, in silence. I cry through writing. I love with actions. I grieve in productivity. You may never see my heart, but you’ll feel it in my consistency.

Ideal Day :

Rain outside. Dim light inside.A notebook half-filled. A novel by my side. Classical music playing softly. Coffee gone cold on purpose. Silence. One unread message - ignored until the thought is complete. A single candle flickering. Ideas flowing like a current beneath stillness.

> “I’d rather sit in silence with one person who understands me, than speak for hours to a room full of noise.”

This is my space - where thought is sacred, emotion is private, and solitude is art.

@poeticanah ♡

[wizanah]

on watching a parent age

i saw somebody say “what if you’re gone and i haven’t become anything yet” and basically that broke me on a random thursday evening