Unwinding Heart

It doesn't matter in the end where and how it started; sometimes all you remember is where and how it ended. Let's not begin from the beginning. We know twists are inevitable. Skipping the part where I was enjoying, let's come to the part where the end started. I was trembling in a corner of a dark room, surrounded by two walls, and two lovely strangers. They were practising, hard, throwing knives to a target. As far as I remember, they missed their target a lot and the wall behind me was bruised; they were beginners, I felt. Twice, it was just near the target but still not my neck even once. A pile of knives was at my feet, and I don't remember anything sweet. They were dedicated and didn't stop throwing knives, even when it was so dark, plus, their target wasn't steady in corner. They sometimes were just about to hit right, but my hands acted as obstacles just fine. I didn't know how sharp the knives were, until one scratched my neck vertically just right

Hellooooo, people. This is a rare piece. It’s an early morning write-up. Whatever you have ever read, almost everything was an evening or night write-up or just woke up from a nightmare kind of write-ups or poems. Once the day passes and the time to go to bed gets closer, the emotions get stacked up high. not sure if that’s just me though The way everything replays in your head – everything that has happened in the day – until you are lying down on the bed. For someone like me, who feels so much, I’m more expressive during my night conversations. And oh gawd! Don’t get me started on when the layer of filters between my mind and tongue starts fading away as I get sleepy. those who have had sleepy conversations would know, rest of you can just imagine this to be a more honest version of a person but more adorable than they usually are Still can’t believe that it’s a morning write-up. And if I’m not gonna write about the emotions I have collected in the whole day, then what am I going to