girl in the record store

When You Feel Like You Don’t Matter, Read This

Every person is a wound waiting to be opened by the gentlest fingertips;

every person is a memory waiting to be forgotten as time passes on like a habit;

every person is a shadow waiting to disappear in the light from heaven;

every person is a story waiting to be told to an audience who is on the verge of falling asleep;

every person is a tragedy waiting to make people cry and feel thankful that it’s not them for once;

every person is a raindrop that falls and loses its identity in the ocean of raindrops;

every person is a hurricane of pain and pleasure that makes even angels weep with envy;

every person is a dream that lingers even after it’s bound to forgotten;

every person is a scream into the valley where no sound travels; but of pain;

every person is different but every person is the same; every person is a paradox in some kind of way;

every person is the source of their own grief;

even person is an emergency exit door that nobody reaches when a fire breaks out;

every person is a constellation of stars that cannot be seen because of pollution in the sky;

every person is a blanket that keeps one warm when it’s cold out;

every person is its own Sun and moon, something to revolve around, something to shape your life around,

every person is the hands of a clock, chasing itself over and over again,

every person is a wound that never heals but bleeds at the slightest touch of memory. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

About the author

I’m 19 years old. I live in New Delhi, India. I’m a poli-sci student at Delhi University. Writing, to me, is a chance ...

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