Harleen 🤎
Bio
just some words on a page, but they mean so much more than that✨🤎 :)
Stories (31/0)
A DEAD MAN’S DANDELION
I am going to die tomorrow, so what do I do today? It’s an important question, because what if I just do nothing? Nothing too important—nothing too time consuming—nothing too enlightening, I hate nothing and I hate knowing nothing. I am going to die tomorrow, so today I will live. What does it mean to live exactly? To be alive? Is all you need breath in your lungs and wonder in your eyes? I think so.
By Harleen 🤎10 days ago in Fiction
The Pantry.
THE PANTRY. I was in my third year of university majoring in History, my sister was in high school with all her extracurriculars, and my mom was trying to find a new hobby after my dad left. Bird watching, pottery, yoga—candle making, poetry, flower pressing. We don’t talk much—the three of us—but between moments we find some way to communicate. Every time the bookshelf is reorganized, the endless scribbles from my sister on our calendar, the soft, unsure, notes of a piano coming from the basement followed by my mom’s tired sigh, the soothing scents the different parts of the house seems to hold onto.
By Harleen 🤎10 days ago in Fiction
- Top Story - March 2024
Destination of a Writer.Top Story - March 2024
I need something happy to happen–like right now. I can’t find it in the sun or the moon or the stars like I usually do. I need something terrible to happen. I need to break out of this mould I am trapped in. I need to feel something, anything, just not nothing. What happened to the clouds? Or my thoughts when I looked at the clouds? I used to see it differently–this world. So what happened? Where did it go wrong? Is it wrong, or am I wrong? They look like…white wisps of…nothing.
By Harleen 🤎2 months ago in Fiction
- Top Story - February 2024