When I was 5 in the mid of December I remember

I started fearing the dark and the monsters it held

I feared something might come out of the closet

Or from under the bed

My mother put a night light in my room

It had a shade of orange with crimson red

I looked out the window every night

Looking at the stars and sighed

For how I wished to be out in the open not afraid

At age 10 I got glow in the dark stars glued on the ceiling

I felt safe under them

I still had the night light but the fake constellations amused me

I felt safe knowing that in the light nothing could get close

No monster under my bed

No demons from the closet

I was scared of the dark and the voices it held

It was logical at that time

Until, I grew up and saw the world

I was 15 when I realized that more than the dark people scared me

New interactions we’re always terrifying

I was fearful of people who would rip open my chest

Take another piece of my withering heart

A bite of my soul and all that I have left

I never figured out their intentions or the meaning behind prying eyes

Until, it was all put raw in front of me

And it was too late to run away

I used to be so afraid

Now, as I grow old nothing scares me anymore but myself

I realized that people do not have power over me until I choose to give it to them

The demons I’m afraid of in the dark

Or the peace I find in isolation

Everything is of my own making

I know that inside my soul resides a pool of stars and black holes

I hop from sunny days to dark nights and swim in between

All I ever wanted was to live a kind life

With a heart that is made of hurricanes and tornadoes

With lungs that breath fire and drown in the cold

I did not need saving but to accept myself

Nothing more than to be and I am


About Bano

I’m trying to find a better introduction but since, I can’t? Hi! I’m an ordinary person and I write. I write not because there lies aspiration to be a writer someday but because, it keeps me sane. I love the color silver, black and grey. I also realize that they fall under the same color tone. Whatever, I write is a result of my 3 a.m blues or insomniac depressive tendencies. I can’t write during the day. I’m addicted to caffeine and well, anything and everything (if I like it). Also, I suck at conversations. I bite my nails. Most of the time I’m clueless about the world around me. I love politics and youth activism. People tell me that art and politics don’t belong in the same mind, but I’m passionate about both. One day I might be drawing on a canvas or writing a story and the very next day I will be heading off to attend a summit on the role of youth at the United Nations. I have multiple people trapped in the same body. Each side does try to express itself, in minimal ways if not fully. I’m currently going through a rough patch in life. I guess, I’m adjusting to the world through multiple perceptions. I absolutely love talking to myself because an expert opinion is always required. Most of the time, I just play scenarios in my mind that would never happen. I’m very contradictory in my thought process and actions but it is okay, people get to be what they want to be as long as no other soul is hurt. Peace out!

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