Give me a reason to be, It could really be anything In this world of absurdities, I sleepwalk, lost, won't you wake me? Give me a reason to be, Your poet, your muse, your prophet, Let me blow some wind Into your airless desert, And water it with my tears; My dear, I am a woman of sorrows, I cry into the abyss, Until there is nothing left But me and the darkness; but if my tears Could be of any use to anyone here, Then I would shed them happily, My love, I am a woman of sorrows, Melancholy is my friend, She never lets go of my hand, She swims in my coffee, In the smoke of my cigarette, She whispers words of agony In the ticking of my clock, (Your life is closer to ending With every Tick-Tock!) So give me a reason to be, A dying rose, a fleeting reverie, A song, a poem or a dream For one day, my love, It will be too late to be!
Ever since I was a little girl, writing has been my passion and my escape. I wanted a platform where this small voice - that usually dares only be heard by the notebook in the corner of my room - can reach out to the world. I have always been fascinated by this ability we have to turn a transient thought or feeling into something that could last forever and that could be communicated to any other member of our species who would stumble upon it. After all, we're one and the same, aren't we? Our hopes, dreams, fears, pain, joy are what make us who we are. This page is for you out there reading it, so I invite you to delve into this notebook as if it were your own. Welcome to my notebook. Many thanks to the creator of this page who made my dream come true.