Loves: BTS more than anything. Hobbies: writing poetry (and stories if I have time), singing my lungs out to K-Pop, dreaming every day. Main aspirations: to become an author, to see BTS in person.

Message from Writer

Hello to everyone on Write the World, this is Flaw. I've been publishing my work since November 2018. Hope that you all will take the time to read them (Inkitt - Flaw, Wattpad - @free620)! Since this box is for a message, here's one I would like to share with you: always be true to yourself. What I mean by that is accepting you as you, especially the flaws you have. Why my pseudonym is the same as a word with a negative connotation is because I would like to show the world that even with many imperfections, I believe that my flaws are an inseparable part of me and, thus, shape me to be perfect. I hope through my writing I can convey this to you and that everyone can learn to become the truest version of yourself!

Nocturnal Habits

April 7, 2019

I don't bother to sleep early anymore.
I don't want to sleep early anymore.

Something about the deep far reaches
Into the night keeps on drawing me in.

The pitch-black that wraps around me, comfortingly.
The silence that permeates my ears in a lullaby.
The moon and the stars that,
Although hidden by the clouds,
Watches over me from above.

I lay motionless yet restless in the satin tendrils of my bed.
Sleep stays for only four to six hours.
My vivid dreams no longer visit me like they used to.

When the dawn comes, I easily snap awake at the first sound.
And throughout the day,
The question of "Why?" plagues my being.

Why can't I sleep?
Why don't I want to sleep?
Why do I stay awake into the recesses of the night?

Is it because of the routine days that force me back to reality?
Is it because of the unknown that awaits in my future?
Is it because of my untameable emotions
Fueling the fire, the light, inside me?
Is it because of my numerous thoughts that haunt me,
Lurking below the surface of consciousness,
Waiting for the right time to strike?

No, this has nothing to do with that accursed phone of mine.

My body needs rest, but my mind says no.
My soul needs peace, but my heart says no.
My throbbing head needs a temporary coma,
But my consciousness says no.

These days I've resorted to afternoon naps,
Much to my parent's chagrin.
The irony of their sleep patterns,
However, does not give them any right.

And although I find deep sleep that entraps me in its clutches,
It is not the same as the one given by the night.

The perfect slumber that I've longed for:
I cannot find it.

My logic cries out in protest,
But it is silenced by my feelings.

Will I ever find it?
Will I ever know what exactly it is I am finding?

"Never mind," the night says.
It beckons me, tempts me, lures me
In the most satisfying ways.

"Stay a bit longer with me," it whispers.
"Let me comfort and soothe your aching, weary,
Dying, hollow, empty self."

"I am so tired," my self responds.
"I do as you say,
But the calm you have promised me
Does not come."

"Let's try again;
Please do to me as you wish."


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