I think I died sometime around 2019 (4)

Part 1 -- 

Part 2--

 Part 3--

 - “Hell no. You can do that on your own time. I’m not going to be responsible for ruining your innocence.

- That’s kind of rude.

- Well, I never pretended to be nice, did I?”

She smirked at me as she pulled another puff from her joint. The streets were empty, and the snow had quieted down. We walked around aimlessly until we found a couple of benches. She sat down as mist escaped from her lips, her long hair falling in cascades around her face as she settled.

I relaxed into the bench next to hers.

- “Really. It’s hard to explain. I don’t even know if I can articulate it.” She muttered

- “Oh come on. You’re just making me more curious at this point."

- "Fuck.”

She pondered for a minute, completely ignoring me as she collected her thoughts.

- “Okay. So I … Hmm.”

I chuckled. She was fidgeting with her hair, probably trying to put into words an intimate feeling that wasn’t meant to be expressed that way. Still, she tried:

- “So when I think of myself, I see a block of experiences and ideas, yeah?"

- "Sure."

- "And each one of those blocks, well I borrowed them from somewhere, didn’t I? They don’t belong to me. Maybe I’ll read a book and have some of its words stick deep inside my subconscious. Maybe I’ll watch a professor giving a lecture and adopt the way he speaks. Maybe I’ll see a friend smile and try to copy the way they do it. And… That’s how I built my blocks, and how ultimately I built myself, right? Still following?"

I nodded.

- “I think so."

- "So if I am just a collection of other people’s thoughts, feelings, ideas, and mannerisms, then I can never produce anything truly new, right? I’ll never have an original thought, and I’ll never write anything truly new.”

She took one last puff from her joint, then closed her eyes. “And that’s why I’ll always be a shitty writer.”

--

I wanted to tell her so badly that it wasn’t true.

But then again, I didn’t know her. All I had was the biased narrative I built inside my head.

So I stayed quiet and watched the flame die out from the joint.

--

Commentaires

  1. Anonyme22 avril 2026 à 19:21

    This actually made me stop and think the idea that we’re built from others is kind of beautiful not limiting u definitely don’t sound like a ‘shitty writer’ to me

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    1. Anas Bouayad23 avril 2026 à 09:06

      Right? I think It's both beautiful and a little sad;
      And thank you for your kind comments, it always makes my day better :)

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  2. Anonyme23 avril 2026 à 12:52

    Be optimistic, be happy life is a single opportunity don’t waste it in worry what should be done is to draw a path for ur life and work on following it to reach safety 😊

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    1. Anas Bouayad23 avril 2026 à 14:23

      Haha, I appreciate that! :)

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    2. Anonyme23 avril 2026 à 19:02

      Random thought about your post.. umm do u really believe nothing we create is truly original or is it more about how we combine what we experience?

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    3. Anas Bouayad24 avril 2026 à 09:15

      Hmm. I think we depend heavily on the experiences of humans that came before us. So "new" is more like "expanding on someone else's ideas".

      The girl in the text is probably misunderstanding that, and using it as a crutch for her insecurities about her writing!

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    4. Anonyme25 avril 2026 à 15:36

      That actually makes a lot of sense… I like that perspective it feels less limiting that way and honestly u wrote her in a very real way soo I feel like a small part of you must understand her too 🫣!!

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    5. Anas Bouayad25 avril 2026 à 21:01

      Haha, thank you!! Very kind of you.

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