Imran Ali Shah
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We Learn This Quietly
We Learn This Quietly No one teaches us how to leave without actually walking away. There is no guide for it, no clear moment when someone says, this is where distance begins. It happens quietly, almost politely, in ways that don’t feel dangerous until they’ve already changed everything.
By Imran Ali Shah9 days ago in Poets
Some People Don’t Leave Us—We Leave Them
For a long time, I told myself they left. It was easier that way. Easier to believe I had been abandoned than to admit I was the one who slowly loosened my grip. The story sounded cleaner when I painted myself as the one who stayed too long, cared too much, waited too patiently.
By Imran Ali Shah10 days ago in Poets
The Chair No One Sits In Anymore
The chair sits by the window. Its wooden arms are worn smooth, the polish dulled by time and touch. One leg is slightly uneven, something no one ever bothered to fix. The rest of the room has changed—new curtains, fresh paint, different furniture—but the chair remains exactly where it has always been.
By Imran Ali Shah10 days ago in Poets
I Realized Saving Money Isn’t a Habit — It’s a Skill
I Realized Saving Money Isn’t a Habit — It’s a Skill For years, I believed saving money was something you were either good at or bad at. Some people just had it. They were disciplined, organized, responsible. I wasn’t. At least, that’s what I told myself whenever my bank balance dipped dangerously low a week before payday.
By Imran Ali Shah12 days ago in Motivation
The Last Vacation at the Beach
I didn’t know it was going to be my last vacation at the beach. That’s the strange thing about endings—they rarely announce themselves. They arrive disguised as ordinary days, warm and harmless, like sunlight on your face when you step out of the car and breathe in salt without thinking twice.
By Imran Ali Shah13 days ago in Writers
You Weren’t Supposed to Read This
You weren’t supposed to read this. That was the first line, written in the margin of a notebook I never intended to open again. It wasn’t a warning so much as a plea. The kind you make when you hope the paper itself might protect you from being seen.
By Imran Ali Shah16 days ago in Poets
