Maya Or Tzur
Bio
Hey-O!
Just a 26 y.o woman writing 'nd stuff. Articles, poems, prose.
See 'ya, little munchkins! 😊
Stories (17)
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11 life advices
1. Avoid excessive screen time and replace it with activities that nourish the body and soul: doing a sport activity that you like, writing (journaling is a great example, but any type of writing that you like, really), or things like workbooks, hobbies, passions, reading, or perhaps a good talk with a friend or a family member.
By Maya Or Tzur15 days ago in Journal
His heart (was) charcoal
I've met a man the sun filled his heart. The kind of man a woman in her 20's fantasizes about, a man with golden locks of hair and a golden soul, with a mind clear like a transparent sea, with depths that can go beyond you've ever thought possible. He was always kind and friendly, his words could warm your heart. Small verbal gestures like, "I hope you've had a great day today", or "how's your grandma lately? I heard she was feeling ill." Or big words like, "the light of day is fleeting and eternal all at once, actually" – spoken with a soft, bashful smile. He was considerate, an aura behind his head like some kind of saint. But. He was not a saint, not ever, because his mind was hiding a secret. Carrying it inside of it like a fetus in a womb, just waiting to come out of its' hideout. He had cruelty inside his heart. A charcoal heart waiting to come out. Someone once said to him cruelty comes from pain, that a sickened heart is indeed a heart that cannot let go. And he couldn't let go. Yet.
By Maya Or Tzur28 days ago in Fiction
My friend Sara. Content Warning.
When I was young, I was very serene. Quiet. Always hiding myself from people with my sallies in nature. But as years passed, something in me became reckless. Something has shifted. I have become someone I do not recognize, something I do not recognize. I still love nature. And that's the reason. That's the reason why I'm so frustrated. My favorite place has been taken away from me. My life has been shattered to pieces, scattered all over the place. My one friend has died there, and it hasn't been the same ever since. I'm filled with grief. With anger. I loved her. I loved her. I - I loved her... so much... she was my best friend I-I... She was such a kind soul! so beautiful... When everyone asks me "Hey, how are you?" Which no one does, but I want them to – my real answer would be, "I'm unwell." I can't go to this place anymore, to my real, chosen home. Ahhh such nostalgia... such magic, such beauty! Was there. Experienced there. Lived there. I go there in my mind, though not physically. I soul travel. I can see it so clearly: the comulonimbus clouds, golden when the sun sets. The azure skies. Those poplar trees, so amberish in autumn. I counted three near the lake. The rain came down in silver drizzles in autumn. In winter, soft snow fell slowly. In summer, the sky was filled with birds. Robins, fluff chested. Songbirds, of all kinds. Bald eagles occasionally, singulars each time. That place was magic. Pure magic. And bliss... it was like some kind of an earthly heaven, a haven. A place so stunning it leaves your mouth fall to the ground. And Sara made it better. Even - even better. So much life she infused to that already lively place. Laughter, common jokes, sharing her beautiful, quirky thoughts, her ideas. Who she was. Sara always used to say, "I don't belong here", referring not to our sacred haven, but to Alabama in general. "I mean, I like the people here. Even love some. But I don't completely fit. I'm like a piece of a puzzle that almost fits, but one bit is not where it's supposed to go. It's not my home. It's not where I belong. I belong where the sky is vast and the birds are always chirping. I belong here, with you. With my awfully shy black headed boy," she mussed my hair, "this will always be my home." Softly she said it, smiling gloomily. She was my forever home. I think of her German parents often. They were so nice and welcoming. I loved them as if they were my own parents, as if I was their own blood. I was, and still am, a misfit, a lonely kid. But not with them. With them I felt like home. Less lonely. Much, much less. They welcomed me unto their home. They have given me warmth, care. Sara always made jokes with me at their table, like we were siblings. And we were. We really were chosen siblings. But Sara died from a lightning strike near that lake at our sacred haven. I was almost struck, too. Almost went to heaven with her... if I even DESERVE a heaven. But Sara was an angel. She is already in heaven. In heav... *sobbing* Why does everything has to be SO DAMN HARD?!why am I losing my one person in life when everything else is so bad?! Gosh... I sure hope she's in a good place. She was an angel! She was an angel. An... oh my god... I feel so terrible. First my abusing parents, now this... GOD, WHY DID YOU ABANDON ME?! My God...
By Maya Or Tzur30 days ago in Fiction
We all need to cry
We all need to cry sometimes. Crying is part of life. Tears can be magic, falling softly, achingly, but it's a good ache, the one of letting go, of setting ourselves free. Give me one man that doesn't feel good when crying. What, because it isn't "manly", men are not supposed to cry?
By Maya Or Tzur2 months ago in Psyche
