Why do you think my trauma is affecting my decisions?
Why do you think I need to get married to sort my life?
Why do you think I am incomplete without a soulmate?
Why do you think I cry because of my pain?
Why do you justify my actions for me?
Why do you push me to the edge?
Why do you paint me the way you want me to look?
Why do you think I am always sad?
Why do you want to fix me?
Why do you want me to fix you?
Why do you talk like I am a child?
Why don’t you get what I say?
Why do you tell me how to feel?
Why do you tell me how to feel?
Why do you tell me how to feel?

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Photo by Tom Barrett on Unsplash

Photo by Tom Barrett on Unsplash

There are clouds everywhere. The sunlight is beaming through the parts left untouched by the other clouds. Fresh air gently passes you by; it’s not too cold, nor too warm. A butterfly sat down on your shoulder, you turn your face to look at…

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“When was the last time you smiled”, the little girl asked Amanda. “Umm…”, Amanda felt a bit hesitant on answering a question that is way deep for this little girl to ask. She thought it might be a casual question and that she is overthinking it. “I am smiling, ain’t I? Sweety!”, Amanda replied with a slight smile on her face. To which the little girl replies, “I don’t think so!” and ran off to play in the garden. Amanda stood there, introspecting as to what just happened.

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