I think of the clothes that are too tight or too loose for me, of my skin that doesn’t like me the way it used to. How the mirrors in my home are hidden by the growing towers of books. I wonder what this says about me? I think of the fear that I feel when I am alone, the fear that I feel when I walk into happiness. I think of the kinds of fear that fill my heart. I count them for a long time but nothing happens when I finish counting. I wonder if knowing myself is really the first step to solving my life. Do I want anything to be solved? I count the people that who no longer speak to me and half way through I remember that it was me who had thrown them away first. Silence is my weapon, not theirs. I realize I need to always hold a grudge against someone to live with strength. I wonder when this strength became so important to me. I wonder when this love that felt like a lemonade in summer actually became a commercialized product with an expiry date stamped on it before it even reaches our hands. I think of my skin by which I am stuck to a world like this. I wonder why I pretend to be better than this world by saying such stuff? Why am I so into acting all deep and philosophical? I wonder why I love to call myself broken even though I hate to be seen so? Don’t misunderstand me. I do not want answers. Answers are painful and pointless, answers are a tasteless end to the struggle that otherwise makes my heart bleed colors.
i break another glass today, the girl with blue highlights in her hair walks over it without bleeding but tells me not to try such things at home on my own, that it took her years of invisibility to even try such tricks. but she has no suggestions for what else i should do instead of breaking my smooth skin and wrecking my good name. so she tells me a story about a girl and wolf, another about a girl and her impossible dream, about a girl and her sad prince, a girl and the dark world, a girl and whatever wants to break her down. she tells me i don’t have to be that girl. that i just have to be person who happens to be a girl and not hate herself for it.
it is night already. i find myself in strange blue rooms. i hold hands with another new stranger who promises to sing me to sleep. he walks like heartache that knows how to smile. he pretends to be the real deal. he is too drunk on his own sad story like me to even see anyone else. so no we are not in love. i just want to borrow his songs, his voice, his awareness of all that is wrong. i look out of his window, at my own home at my friends, at my love, at broken frame of my family, at myself who is trying too hard to be indifferent to it all.
the battery of my phone dies and i am alone again in this life that i can’t find my way around. i am somewhat lost, tired, and yet somehow happy to have lived through this despair, through another dark night.
I did mean it all, I just didn’t want you to know. My momentary courage- the result of my long sleepless nights, let’s agree to call it my foolishness. For I won’t do anything as preposterous as that ever again. I won’t expect much from you again, not because I was at wrong.
Even though it was the only thing I could do, I regret it so much. I hate myself for trying to believe in you, for pushing myself to do the right thing for your sake.
As always you eat fast and cut me off. As always you have somewhere to go. There are too many people whom you must keep happy. Today I won’t throw everything on my plate for you. I won’t come to door to see your cold back.
I wish I could go back to the dreams where I told you about my life, about my pain and you held me as I cried, where you took me to the doors of my new life. But instead all I see in every face is your face. In your face all I see is my pathetic self who wanted to lean on someone like you.
There was never a point of time when I could sit back and say- “This is home. This is where I will always be. No one can take me away from here. Here is where I am bound to be.” Because I could never hold onto anything even when I wanted to.
I was always convinced that there is something very sinister in me that would be seen, that would show itself sooner or later, that I am not all good. In fact being good is not in my nature, but just something I carry out so that people can try to love me, a behavior I often dropped when it suited me.
But as much as I am repelled my nature
I also end up finding myself pitiful for how I end up alone
and knowing my flaws
doesn’t make me hate myself enough
to stop me from demanding some consolation from my life
for making it so far.
I want to believe that I at least deserve
a small happiness of my own,
if not the joys of entire world.
They tell me time and again,
and shed tears.
Tell me how I sit alone, act lonely,
and make them feel the same.
How I forget that they need love.
How I make them miserbale by being myself.
How my every word is fake, every deed selfish.
I tell them again and again
that’s not me.
I am all that they complain about.
Even if every hour of mine is devoted
to not let them feel this.
The steps I walk
and the fate I follow
all run into faces that somehow
already know all the reason to despise me.
Why is it that walking in these shadows
calms my heart and brings it pain
at the same time.
Is this how life is to be lived?
I myself this all the time.
For if not for my own voice,
there won’t be any answers returning to me
from this world that seems more far away
when I look for answers,
than when I look for places hide.
But I look at the moon today with a new eyes.
I find I am no longer alone,
when you look back everytime you leave.
I find I am no longer alone,
when left to myself, I have someone else to think of.
I no longer need assurances and promises
from this life, if only you walk this earth
with a smile and a lighter heart.
The cold returns to my heart again,
freezing your memories forever in me,
and I smile.
I am no longer alone,
nor are you.
All that led me in life-
Sometimes towards you,
My pride, my greed.
My sense of right
and my lust for wrong.
All have left me alone in life,
as you breathe your last.
Struggling to be free from me.
Your eyes found me hiding
in the truths I created everyday,
so my lies didn’t become apparent to myself.
Maybe because of that you have been tied to me
by what I now know as love.
of deserving love,
no longer haunts my mind.
I wish I could go back to the world
where you breathe,
where you smile,
where you lips, your love, your tears
do not know my name.
For I know,
even if I could do it all over again,
it would all be the same.