Hi,
I’m Niv.
And you must be wondering, “Who the heck is she?”
Fair question. I’ve asked myself the same because sometimes, I think the version of myself I present is just one part of a bigger story.
What if the self you think you know is just that, a story?
A shadow play of illusions you crafted to shield yourself from the unknown inside and the outside.
We chase meaning, connection, and certainty, but maybe all of that is just smoke and mirrors.
Or maybe not.
But I write because I’m drawn to the cracks in that illusion, when the veil thins and something raw, wild, and unfiltered slips through.
For a second, nothing makes sense.
And somehow, that feels more honest than anything else.
But that’s not just why I write.
It’s how I live.
Poetry is my way of tracing those fractures, between bruised fruits, the laughs in you that lingers too loud when no one is around, silences between leaving and being left behind.
And somehow, in those spaces, I find freedom.
Not from pain or uncertainty, but in really accepting them.
Funnily, I didn’t choose to be a poet.
I was drawn to vulnerability, the most human way to be, which, sadly, most humans can’t be, to them, its okay to be.
And to me, writing is the act of naming the unnameable, feeling the unfeelable, and holding space for all the parts I hide, to both bloom and bruise.
If you’ve ever felt like a stranger to yourself, like you are in a hall of mirrors with no clear reflection or direction, a misfit,
then maybe you understand.
So, if you’re here,
welcome,
you don’t need to be whole,
you don’t need to understand everything.
Just bring your wondering, your weariness, your heart.
And maybe, in my words, you’ll make sense of your contradictions and complexity.
With love,
Niv.
Curious? Stick around.
And keep in touch.
NIV 