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Either the so called 'feminists' are so much invested because of the thought of it plus the too much talking and all or the world is just coming to an end
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girl let it go💋💅
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I have really missed the feeling...
I have a dream. It flickers on and off sometimes. There are days I wake up feeling fullfilled. Other days? Well, nonplussed. As a kid, I used to imagine—a lot of things. Lately, I have been thinking of the details and my heart breaks every time (partly because I do not have the childlike delusion of believing everything is possible anymore) I do. I want to feel like a superhero again (spider man's control and batman with his feast). I want to notice when tea burns my lips—again. I know it didn't get any cold. I just hardened myself until I couldn't feel anymore. I want to cut my food into tiny pieces—again.
I have really missed the feeling of wearing my favourite outfits to church. Maybe it's just me but church doesn't feel the same anymore. Like when we used to wake up so early and hurry up so we could get a seat. Church used to be a whole congregation. Min Toti would usher us in and children would leave seats for the adults anyway. Church used to be so packed. Balloons of weddings that normally happened on Saturday would lighten up the room as if to confirm Jesus is indeed, the way and the light. Stickers of 'who weds who' would make me want to get married one day. Min Gabbie (my step mum) would make sure I pertake in the holly communion. I would sock the sacrament with saliva—I didn't want to chew the body of christ(that would be pain to the most high,so I thought). That's not it anymore. Mostly, I'm always waiting for the mass to end because I'm in the midst of strangers (I'm sorry). Maybe, I missed out on the whole point of church. Still, I want to feel it —again.
The excitement of visiting new places. I want to drink my grandmother's magira only that she already passed way. I miss her a lot but that's partly besides the point. Listen, do you know I still watch spongebob? At 21? It hurts mostly when I watch. Not that Patrick is no longer my favourite. Thing is, I miss the remote fights with my siblings. I miss how we used to laugh until it hurts. I want to get annoyed at the numerous reminders that would pop and switch channels. We used to watch TMNT and Bob The Builder. I want to shout (can we fix it!) and hear Gabbie (my brother) shout (YES WE CAN!).
I want my father to lift me from the ground and make goofy sounds as he throws me in the air.
I miss the feeling of christmas. It just doesn't feel the same anymore (I'm sorry Jesus,how dare I!). Mum would style my hair with chemical and buy us new clothes. Fidel (my brother) would stay in the kitchen whole time and count the chapati-rolls from the dough. Dad would sit in his couch (it was his couch). Food would be served and I miss saying— when I grow up I'll eat a whole 'superdrum' of chips. Mum would smile and say that's impossible. I would sharply interject—it's possible. Now that I confirmed, it's impossible, it's not the fact that I can't tell mum because she passed away that hurts me the most. Maybe they were right—It's the thought that counts.
Nobody is stopping me from doing these things. Infact, if I wanted to, I would do them all over again and again. Doing and feeling are very different. I know you know as much as I do. But I digress.
I have been looking for myself. I have been hopping, stepping and jumping. There goes another memory. Anyhoo, welcome to my world. I hope we connect through the words of my writing. I am hoping to find myself. I'm glad I found you in the process. I want to step into the universe, literally. I have been reading books. I've been looking in the shelves—for myslelf. I want to connect with you all. The world is filled with talented, educated, and beautiful people. We meet them everyday. They are all around us. You are them.
I decided to finally come to a conclusion that I am and will forever be writing for the world to the world. I hope, we connect. Through the words of my writings. Let's jump into this❤️✌️
With love,
Alchemist.
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