Khuzaifa ali
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Stories (15)
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A Love Letter to the Girl I Used to Be
Dear khuzaifa ali I see you. Sitting on your bedroom floor, knees pulled to your chest, trying so hard not to cry too loudly because you don’t want anyone to hear. You feel like the world is moving forward without you, like everyone else has a map and you’re just wandering in circles. You’ve convinced yourself that you’re too much for some people and not enough for others—and somehow, both feel true.
By Khuzaifa ali3 months ago in Humans
The Love We Almost Had
We met at a time when neither of us was ready. It was a rainy Thursday, the kind that makes the city feel quiet and close. I ducked into the corner bookstore just to escape the weather, not expecting anything more than dry air and maybe a used poetry book.
By Khuzaifa ali3 months ago in Humans
Whispers of the Forest
I went into the forest looking for quiet—but I didn’t expect to find a voice. It wasn’t a loud voice. Not the kind that demands your attention. No, the forest speaks in whispers—in rustling leaves, in birdsong before sunrise, in the rhythmic crackling of a fire when night wraps around you like a blanket.
By Khuzaifa ali3 months ago in Earth
When the Sun Came Back
There was a time when I forgot what sunlight felt like—not the warmth on my skin, but the kind that lived inside me. It was the year everything seemed to fall apart. My job had ended abruptly after a round of unexpected layoffs. My closest friend moved across the country. And the silence of my apartment—once a comfort—became unbearable.
By Khuzaifa ali3 months ago in Motivation
The Window That Faced Mine
The window that faced mine belonged to Apartment 4B. It was directly across the alley, about 15 feet from my own. We were close enough to see each other clearly, but too far to speak without shouting. And we never shouted. In fact, we never spoke—not once.
By Khuzaifa ali3 months ago in Humans
The Night I Dined with a Stranger
It was a rainy Tuesday in a city I didn’t know. My flight had been delayed, and my phone was dead—typical. I wandered into a quiet little diner tucked between two bookstores near the train station. The kind of place with foggy windows, chipped coffee cups, and a warmth that had nothing to do with the heating.
By Khuzaifa ali3 months ago in Humans
The Strength of Flexibility
In a small coastal village in Japan, where the ocean crashes fiercely against the rocks during storms, there stands a forest of slender bamboo. While mighty oak trees have fallen to typhoons over the years, the bamboo still sways and stands.
By Khuzaifa ali3 months ago in Motivation
The Librarian of Ashes
n 2012, the city of Timbuktu—once the intellectual heart of Africa—was under siege. Armed militants linked to Al-Qaeda swept through northern Mali, declaring the ancient city a stronghold of their radical ideology. They banned music, burned sacred shrines, and issued death threats to those who defied them. But among their darkest threats was the destruction of something even older than their war: books.
By Khuzaifa ali3 months ago in History
