Broken brushstrokes and broken dreams. Rivers running with unseen tears and unsaid words. Nowadays, nothing is as it seems.

I fear that by the time the curtains close, I will have failed myself. I am scared that the light my art brings me will not be bright enough for my future. I am scared my fears will come true, and it will all be my doing. I am scared I will forget what it means to be Bushra Khan.

The woman I used to be, she feels so far away. I long for the day my own reflection hugs me.