Life As A Writer

Michael Daaboul. 26 y/o from Australia/Melbourne. Digital Designer & Creative Writer.

10,000 Ways to Fall

Will you always expect me to love you, even when I find it hard to love myself sometimes?

Do you expect me to be good to you, when I’m bad to myself?

Do you expect me to be kind to you, when I’m angry at myself?

When I’m looking off into your distant horizon, I’m not being cold; my thoughts are not on standby. Sometimes I’m hard to understand because I don’t understand why I deserved you when I think you deserved so much more, so much better than me.

I relentlessly question the greater power as to why they have cursed me with such a beautiful soul. What have I done that made me worthy?

Is this the plan? To make me fall so deep, make me cling my hopes and dreams to them and watch them unhook my anchor as I’m falling 10,000 feet in the air?

Do you want me to feel betrayal and the pointy shards of my broken heart, this dry and overworn artefact? Do I need to be broken again to learn what I failed to learn the first time around?

Do I fear failing so much that I won’t bother to try? I won’t bother to see how beautiful you smile when the Sun is shining behind you.

It’s all a state of mind.

What makes me not worthy than the next person? I want to share my hopes and dreams with a beautiful soul; I want to belong with someone.

I mean no disrespect to the stars, but you have seen me weak and you have seen the way I weep. You have seen when I’m not a man and you have seen how quick I crumble like sand.

Please don’t take her away from me, even if I’m not worthy.

I don’t want to be here and see you evaporate. I don’t want to look at the starry night anymore, because it reminds me of you. I don’t want to walk through winter, I don’t want to swim in the waves. I want to escape, because everything has you in it. You were a part of me and all the tiny fragments of you were left behind in places we had been.
Michael Daaboul
I’m a puzzle that’s missing pieces. The right ones are not with me. I have pieces that don’t even fit, my instruction manual has a blown up human body with one million numbers and arrows pointing in every direction that I don’t even know where to start. So I have never put myself together, because I don’t know how and I go on walking puzzled and always missing the pieces inside of me. And I feel like I’m always missing you.
Michael Daaboul
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