She was not quiet— not really. Even in silence, there was a spark in her like a thought that refused to sit still. They called her BoredMakers, I called her Boredy, they called her Sniper, church bells ringing, the sea singing, she bent dull moments into strange constellations, turned nothing into something just by being there. There was a softness, too, hidden between jokes and chaos, like the calm inside a storm that only a few ever noticed. She drifted between selves like water finding its own shape, never fixed, never simple- and somehow that made her more real than most. If you looked closely, you’d see it- that flicker of light that didn’t ask permission to exist, just burned anyway. And maybe that’s what she was: Not a story with an ending, but a moment- bright, unpredictable, and impossible to forget.
Can I stop the tears? No. A great person. A simple person. Any ordinary person. Maybe 1 out of 8 billion. Maybe it doesn't matter. No, it does. Why not? Everybody is there for a reason. God gifted her humanity for a reason. She lived through it. After all, she was the one who teached me something in life. To be brave. To stay strong in the weakest situations. She wasn't just a person. She was a representative of a divine messenger sent to us by God. Toast? Hail @BoredMakers I can't stop the tears.
