The Paperlore Turzaoun

The Paperlore Turzaoun my mind is a mess right now

25/05/2026

This shiver of pain makes my heart go numb,
The demon keeps crawling closer me,
Whispering names I never heard
How can the storm that lodged in my frame
Now consume me whole?
Their crimson eyes make my heart tremble,
How do I convey that I no longer feel alive?
On raining nights when nature growls and howls,
I keep deceiving myself that I was ever found.

I grew up surrounded by people who judged anyone for wearing makeup. If you put on even a little powder or maybe a tinte...
15/03/2026

I grew up surrounded by people who judged anyone for wearing makeup. If you put on even a little powder or maybe a tinted lip gloss, people would criticize you. Because of that, I never learned how to do makeup or even how to properly take care of myself. Instead, I learned to judge others. I would shame them along with my friends for using a little product on their faces.
But when I looked at myself, I saw tanned skin and visible pores, while my friends seemed flawless. I started to hate the way I looked. One day, I realized I needed to learn how to take care of myself.
After finishing school, I slowly started doing small things, wearing sunscreen, putting on a little tinted gloss. And in return, I was judged. People gossiped behind my back, asking who I was trying to impress or why I was dolling myself up.I’m glad I didn’t listen.
But now, when I see girls who know how to do makeup, who can dress up and make themselves look pretty enough to fall in love with their own reflection, I sometimes feel a little envious. I wish I could do the same. I wish I could doll myself up too.
It’s strange how the very thing I once hated has now become the thing I wish I could be.

10/03/2026

When the sun sets behind the twilight glow,
The lights dance through the mist and v***r.
The devil looks at me when darkness sobs,
And through the maze of thoughts, it captures me.
My pen feels heavy, and the paper so rough,
That every time I write, it bleeds from my heart.
This devil wants some praise, praise of his sin.
The devil wants my writing to be the worship he needs.
But my heart refuses to lie, refuses to lie and refuse to lie
Every time I write,
Because through the pen is the only time I smile.

16/01/2026

Sometimes I wish I could die, but the weight of expectations and responsibilities holds me back. Even dying feels like a luxury I cannot afford.

01/01/2026

Voices of mind- 5

"How long is it going to take?" I asked Alfa Alex, my voice is thick with impatience.

He didn’t even look up. His eyes stayed glued to the file as he corrected something with a blue pen, slow and annoyingly precise.

"Alfaaaaa."

He responded with a low hum, the kind
that meant I heard you,

"When are they coming?"

“I’m waiting here with you too," he said flatly. “How would I know?"

I slumped back in my chair. "Ugh. I still have homework to do."

He finally paused, tapping the pen once against the paper. "Why didn’t you finish everything over the weekend?"

"Because weekends are for resting,"I snapped.

Silence settled between us again,thick, stretched, uncomfortable. Ten minutes passed like that. Through the glass panel, I watched the city below. Dusk had swallowed most of the light, leaving everything tinted in dull gray and fading gold. Cars moved like tired insects, buildings stood heavy and lifeless. The city looked sad. Worn out. Just like me.

"Hey," Alfa said suddenly.

I turned. He had finally put the file aside and was looking at me now.

"Can I ask you something?"
I straightened my spine instinctively, meeting his green eyes. "What?"

“Are you and Harry dating?”
What?

I blinked. Once. Twice. What??! Where did that even come from!

"No," I said immediately. "Absolutely not. Why would you even think that?"

"You’re always together. Library, corridors, random places. That’s basically dating."

"Yuck. No,"I said, disgust crawling up my spine. “We’re not dating.”

The idea made my stomach twist. Dating him, my other half. Revolting.

Alfa frowned, clearly caught off guard by my reaction. "Then what? A situationship?"

"Hell no,"I said sharply. "There’s nothing romantic. Everything is completely platonic."

He didn’t look convinced.
“He calls you princess,” he added.

Because I am one. sigh.

"People don’t usually use nicknames like that without meaning."

"You call me little Devi."

"Because you’re a menace."

"I am not,"I said defensively.

He sighed, rubbing his temple. "Look. Whatever’s going on between you and Harry, I don’t care. Just don’t get too involved. You know what I mean."

“Just shut up,” I said, heat creeping into my cheeks.

"And even if you get too dee....."

"SHUT UP, ALFA."

"Okay," he murmured, exhaling softly, surrendering at last.

31/12/2025

Voices of mind - 4

"Do you think we can make it, Princess?"

"Do we have any other choice?"

Harry didn’t reply. He stood still, staring at the statue, cracked stone, broken crown, a relic of what once was. Silence pressed down on us like ash after a fire.

"A destroyed empire standing on shattered souls," I said quietly. "Some were too naive, some forgot their roles. Harry, maybe we’ll win or maybe we’ll lose. None of that is in our hands.” I paused, "But one thing is still ours hope. We cannot afford to lose that."

"Hope of what, Princess?" he asked, his voice rough. "Victory?"

A bitter smile touched my lips.
"No. Not hope to win." I looked back at him.

"Hope not to lose completely. Hope to survive. So even if we fall, our progeny won’t start from ashes. They’ll finish what we couldn’t."

“I miss the old days,” Harry whispered.

The weight in his voice said everything. Exhaustion, grief, longing for a time that probably would never return. I felt it too.
But there was nothing left for me to do except sign and stand.

29/12/2025

It’s strange how some people slowly, without realizing it, lose all desire to live.

Happiness is there. Opportunities are there. Still, they feel numb.Not because of depression. Not because of failure.
Because even when they win, they still feel the void.

Every day feels like waiting. Waiting to return to the whole. Days pass. People ask what happened. But they can’t answer, because, truly, nothing happened.

It feels like holding an umbrella in the rain that was never yours. In the end, you have to give it back and feel the rain anyway.
So why get attached to the umbrella instead of the rain?

People don’t understand this.
One day, they just start to feel this way
and quietly hope others will feel it too, someday.

29/12/2025

Maybe in another lifetime, I will be a writer,
one who writes whatever she wants.

Maybe in that lifetime, my words will be printed in books,
displayed on shelves,
not like this time,
dying quietly in draft pages.

Maybe in another lifetime, people will know me
as someone who can build worlds with words,
not just a regular girl
full of potential and nothing more.

Maybe in another lifetime, I will find my people,
those who read and write with me,
not like this time,
where everyone is only interested in spilling tea.

I really want to be a writer,
because when I start to write,
I come back to life.

15/12/2025

Sometimes, The more perfect a person is on the outside, the more demons they have on the inside.

15/12/2025

People talk about the main character syndrome.

But me?

I’m just a bystander in my own story. A silent viewer, not a part of the scene, just behind the glass. Maybe that’s why right and wrong never feel absolute to me.

In a room full of people, I fade. Empty. Invisible. No one looks at me ( or they do?) so I look at them.
How they talk, how they smile, how they laugh,how sometimes they cry.

I wonder what they think of themselves in their mind....perfect? kind? beautiful? Each one feels like a character from a different book.

Sometimes their stories cross,
sometimes they change each other’s plots.
But in every story, they are the center of their universe.

And me?

I’m still watching, still wondering how come I became the observer.Sometimes it feels peaceful. Sometimes it feels hollow.
And sometimes…I just ask who am I, really?

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