My view of the world is strangely beautiful. So vivid but to me but to others vague. I ponder day and night if I wasn’t me who would I be? Even if I was another would I still think of them as myself? Would I still be bold? Love writing? Could I sing a beautiful tune? I can’t now but if I was them would I not be in gloom? Would my depression become better? Or would I not have any at all? Would I still be tall and think of myself as small? Moving at the same speed. Would I still be the weird me? Looking up at the sky for hours wondering what is like up there. Pondering that life. My feet don’t touch the ground. They wouldn’t. They would never not for a second. I view the world strangely yet I view the word like me.
By Saadiqa
About the Creator
Nubian Misfits
Hi I’m Nubian Misfit aka Melanin Vibez. I love writing and photography. I hope you enjoy my creations.
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Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson4 days ago in Fiction
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