a moodboard

“ﻭﺳﻂ ﺍﻟﺤﺪﻳﺚ؛ ﻫﻲ ﺍﺑﺘﺴﻤﺖ، وأنا نسيت ﻣﺎﺫﺍ ﺳَأﻘﻮﻝ.”

Take a shower, wash off the day. Drink a glass of water. Make the room dark. Lie down and close your eyes. Notice the silence. Notice your heart. Still beating. Still fighting. You made it, after all. You made it, another day. And you can make it one more. You’re doing just fine.

He is lying beside her in the bed, his face buried in the pillow, his arm is flung over the top of his head. She can hear him breathing. She thinks he looks perfect like that, like a boy, and then that’s all there is. Beneath all her thoughts and worries, beneath the complication of conflicting identities and needs, maybe it’s as simple as loving the way some other person looks when they’re sleeping.

I feel like I’ve swallowed a cloudy sky.

She had a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach, like when you’re swimming and you want to put your feet down on something solid, but the water’s deeper than you think and there’s nothing there.