I may laugh now, tbh, I was scared. I hate that I can’t stand up for myself. People think I'm confident, but most of the time, I feel powerless. I don’t know why I find it so difficult. It's bad. I would have paid him if I went alone because he seemed scary on the phone, and I wasn't about to go alone to meet someone I don’t even know who was asking for money.

My old email password is so cringe I can't even type it. I made it after my dog Snoopy died. It was“Iwillalwaysmissyousnoop332211”ahhhhh😶

I am tired of carrying all these acne and dark spots with me anymore. I want to rip my skin off. I want to peel it off me and throw it away.

You hide so well, no one can see where it bleeds.
You cover it up, masking pain with practiced ease.
Maybe you're right, what good does showing give?
Vulnerability feels like a weakness to forgive.
Yet in those hidden depths, there's strength to uncover,
A resilience thriving beneath the surface, like no other.
Perhaps revealing scars is a step to recover,
Even the strongest walls need light to rediscover.

Meh

I need to find a place where I can just shout it all out.

Ever feel like breaking things, but you don’t own anything you can smash? Try throwing ice cubes on the ground

it's surprisingly satisfying.

What the Heart of the Young Man Said to the Psalmist
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
“Life is but an empty dream!”
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
“Dust thou art, to dust returnest,”
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Finds us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world’s broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,—act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o’erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing
Learn to labor and to wait.

A Psalm Of Life
By Henry Longfellow

I forgive, but sadness and sorrow linger, waiting for a spark to bring them back. Just beneath the surface, they lie in wait, reminders of pain that never truly fades.

The strawberry air freshener in taxis gives me headaches ,the smell is awful. I don't understand why they use it.

Sometimes dabo kollo is all you need.

A funny thing happened to me today, a guy paid for my taxi ride. I tried to pay, but he said he had already taken care of it. I thanked him, but the rest of the ride was stressful. I was praying he wouldn't expect me to small talk. Thankfully, he didn't try at all Thank God!
It's 30 birr demo.

I need something to give my mind a focus
and thus I write this nonsense.
These so called poems
with a hint of rant
and a bit of banter.
Smothered in self-sorrow.
Oh, woe is me.
So when the waves start crashing
I start typing.
The content can't be helped.
I just sit back and relax
let the keys click and clack
And focus.