Amar Habeeb
Bio
A wandering mind with ink-stained fingers, I write to make sense of the noise inside turning ache into art, Somewhere between heartbreak and healing, humor and hurt, you’ll find my voice: unpolished, unfiltered, and searching.
Stories (2)
Filter by community
My Body Forgot to Forget
They told me I was better. That after twenty-six sessions, five hundred and something dollars, and an entire box of off-brand tissues, I was over it. Neatly folded trauma, filed alphabetically under “C” for childhood stuff that wasn’t that bad anyway, placed into the drawer of memory marked Resolved.
By Amar Habeeb8 months ago in Confessions
When We Stopped Reading: On the Lost Art of Feeling Deeply
There was a time when people carried books like sacred objects. Folded pages stained with coffee and fingerprints, verses underlined in pencil, words whispered between lovers as secret codes. A time when we met ourselves — or who we could be — in the lives of fictional characters, when heartbreaks were rehearsed in pages long before they found us in real life. But something shifted.
By Amar Habeeb8 months ago in BookClub
