betzybrizesblog

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Beyond the Rain

I often think about my own death. It might come on a rainy day, the kind where the clouds hang low, heavy with unshed grief. The wind would howl, not like a lament, but like an argument, angry and unresolved. People would move quickly, heads bowed, huddled under umbrellas, their raincoats gleaming with water. They would not call me by my name anymore. I would simply be the body. “When will the…

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Too Much Too Open

Life feels strange, like I’ve lost my footing in a place I used to know so well. My heart feels heavy, but I can’t tell if it’s because I feel too much or if it’s because I’m too much for others. Am I the problem? Is my love too big, too strong, too messy? I don’t know how to stop giving all of myself, but I worry that by doing so, I overwhelm the people around me. When I love, I don’t just give…

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hurt

hurt is not a sharp thing but someone has cut deep down where no one looks and now breathing feels like dragging shards of glass into your chest it is quiet and invisible but it is there somewhere deep in the folds of you something has split open you feel it leaking and no one can see it except you they ask why you’re quiet why your eyes seem far away but how do you explain that…

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numb

numb is not the absence of pain it is the weight of it pressed so deep into your chest that you can no longer feel where it begins or ends. it is the silence after the storm, the stillness of a body too tired to ache, a heart too broken to beat loudly. numb is staring at the ceiling with eyes that cannot cry, holding hands that cannot tremble, moving through days like a ghost in…

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numb

numb is not the absence of pain it is the weight of it pressed so deep into your chest that you can no longer feel where it begins or ends. it is the silence after the storm, the stillness of a body too tired to ache, a heart too broken to beat loudly. numb is staring at the ceiling with eyes that cannot cry, holding hands that cannot tremble, moving through days like a ghost in…

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The Illusion of Being

People often ask me what life is, and I, for one, am unsure. I struggle with it constantly, as though the answer is hidden behind some impenetrable veil, a veil that I am doomed to tear at and never lift. To me, life is not a grand, noble journey, but a strange, suffocating prison where the bars are invisible, and yet they are always there, pressing down upon my chest. I walk through this world,…

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the way i remember you

if i ever speak of you again i will speak of you like poetry for you loved me so fiercely i was convinced i was holy how lucky i was to be held by hands that would ruin the world just to lift me up i remember you now more than i ever knew you your love left fingerprints on places i had forgotten and even now i feel the weight of it in the quietest corners of me you worshipped…

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to be human

to be human is to carry both the wound and the balm in your hands to know the sharp sting of hurt and still choose to reach out softly it is to fall apart a thousand times over yet rise again on the strength of a whispered hope a hand offered, a shoulder leaned on we are all learning how to hold our broken pieces like they are something sacred to wear our scars like…

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Grey Morning

This morning, I woke too early, long before the day had anything to offer me. No tasks waited, no ambitions stirred. It was the kind of day meant for slipping between book pages or surrendering to an easy, drifting sleep. Yet here I was, awake in the dimness, staring at a world that has somehow tumbled through eleven months of existence while leaving me untouched, or perhaps, emptied. I opened…

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Beyond the Pattern

I sat there, alone, watching people move through their lives as if on tracks they couldn’t see. They moved smoothly, as if drawn along by invisible strings, each following the same routines, the same conversations, the same beliefs. They walked past each other without truly seeing, spoke without truly listening, clinging to ideas and traditions as if they were sacred, following a pattern that…

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The Cage of Judgments

Being born a woman is like stepping into a cage built from judgments….a prison where assumptions form the bars and the walls shift the moment I reach for freedom. They’ve already decided who I am before I speak, casting me as a character in some shallow play, a collage of their own projections. To them, I am always “too much” or “too little”—a mystery they feel entitled to solve and dismiss,…

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The Light You Gave Me

All I did was search for you in every person I met, hoping to find a trace of what you brought into my life. I wandered through crowds, feeling lost and alone, until I finally realized that there’s no one in this world quite like you. With you, I felt complete; I was whole. You had this incredible ability to calm the storm inside me when my anger rose, transforming my rage into something…

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The Weight of Longing

In the dim light of the room, I sat alone, surrounded by shadows that stretched across the walls. The silence pressed down on me, heavy and suffocating. I thought about love..not the wild fire of desire, but a quiet presence that could wrap around me like a warm blanket. I wished to be the most important person in someone’s life, to hold a place so cherished that losing me would cause panic. I…

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Lost Without Grief

It’s strange, the way people slip out of my mind. Not in a sudden, violent way, but quietly, like shadows fading at dusk. I could be close to someone…really close, the kind of closeness that people say should linger, should leave a mark. But eventually, they fade. Their voice becomes a hum, their face a blur, their presence just a faint echo I can’t quite reach. I don’t mean to forget them. I…

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When I Am Gone

When I die, don’t tell me how much you’ll miss me. No flowers, please..if you didn’t give me one in life, don’t lay them down now. I’ll be gone, and I can’t hear your words. After the funeral, you’ll forget me, a shadow in the corner of your mind. I’ll visit you now and then, maybe once or twice a year, like a flicker of light. You won’t think of me in the bright days— only in the quiet,…

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Ghosts of a Promise

I once believed in miracles. My younger self was bold—she carried a heart full of ambition, dreams strung tightly together like beads on a wire. She had a plan, a map carved out in the marrow of her bones, and nothing could stand in her way. She was fierce, she was untouchable, and she wanted to fight for the ones who had no voice. She burned with courage, the kind that felt like it could set the…

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Let Me Go Silently

Let me go. I want to vanish into thin air. Being around people might hurt me, reminding me of how much I liked them and the joy we shared. So, I’m not saying goodbye; I’m choosing to disappear. I’ve tried to hold on, but in the end, it feels like it doesn’t matter. Everything will soon be a part of the past..the conversations, the laughter, all of it. I’m glad to have met these people. They have…