This morning was whirlwind
I was at home alone
My mum was out running errands
She came back with our lunch and some stuff
I ate and went out with her for my dental appointments
She was harsh and fierce
I was very tired
The dentist made me uncomfortable
Asking questions
Checking all my teeth
Pulling my mouth
I was feeling anxious
Pulling away
Communication with mum was challenging
I bought my bread for tomorrow
I went away to the printing shop without telling my mum
People laughed and avoided me
I board...

I deleted the message.
Not out of anger,
but because my heart
deserves a softer room.

They sent a video
to call me dance monkey,
typed my name
like a punchline.
I said, Stop it,
and when “sorry” came,
I still chose peace
over replay.

This is not overreacting.
This is my quiet no.
My small, sacred shield.

At night,
Mum speaks before sleep,
a few brief words
held between dramas and sighs.
I answer anyway.
Somewhere under the sharpness
there is still a thread,
and I am the one
who keeps it from breaking.

Aidah does not...

This morning began quietly — the kind of quiet that sits softly in the bones. I stepped out with a simple reminder from home: wear a mask, many people are sick. So I carried that small care with me onto the buses, watching the day slowly unfold through moving windows.

Along the way, the world felt a little sharp. People bumped into me, laughed near me, kept their distance. Some moments were just clumsy accidents, others were strange and confusing. I reminded myself that not every sound belongs...