For sunsets you missed are not even there in the hearts of those who saw it everyday.
They walked past it, shut their windows tight, and sat in their darkest caves trying to run away from what you want so deeply.”
I almost said to him that even though it hurts, it is a hurt I would like to have- to yearn for the things that never happened.
That unlike him I yearned for things that I walked over and killed. Things that I can still see and hear in my dreams, telling me, showing me all the marks of my hatred on their skin, on their hearts. I cry for them, look for them, seek forgiveness from them when I am awake. I dread them when they find me in sleep.
I almost confessed to him that being the maker of caves, a lover of sunsets, being the one who filled half the world and half the hearts with a blindness even I can’t cure, maybe I shouldn’t be his savior, maybe I shouldn’t be relied upon for answers.
i try to sleep, to forget the pain near my spine, to forget all the hours in front of me that i have no use of. i look at my palm from near and from as far as my hands can extend. i notice how my hands have changed. do i like it better now? i wonder if it possible to like anything about my body now. i remember once deciding not to at least hate this skin that has use for everyone but not to me. i remember saying “as long as it makes you happy” at the same time thinking “i don’t think you care for my happiness”. i stop myself from finding more things that make me confused or miserable. i unlock my phone. it’s 8 already- more and more notifications, …5GB extra..Alert:You have spent… …has added a new post…added a new story airplane mode, the notifications continue to pile up in my head- all the words that i will never get to see that i always expected even when i knew i shouldn’t, it has been long……sorry, for making you feel alone… today i saw something and was reminded of you. even though we are not together, it is not your fault… thank you for being there for me……it must have been tough… don’t hurt yourself i feel smaller knowing that even the words i want are only words of consolation, just confirmation that i am not the worst. i look at my hands again and wonder if my hatred for myself colors my skin. is that how everyone gets know that i don’t have the courage to ask for fair, for loyalty, for answers? is that how i look? someone who doesn’t have the voice to ask anything anymore.
Some days I am thankful to the walls that never broke down when I did, that looms up to the heights that seem more beautiful than sad (on certain days at least).
The tiny tiles, the cemented words in me- they were supposed to be who I am, they were meant to decompose when I chose to change my ways, when I chose to change my heart. But this ‘me that I have made’ is more magnificent, more important than me now.
My mask is more than a mask. It is my life, it is my M.O., it is the replies and answers planned out for every worst case. It is a solution that works somehow. It is a city where I live helplessly not because I am helpless. It is just difficult to throw away something I thought I was me. As my nature melts and takes new forms everyday this artificial me remains as my only point of reference. My pretense is the best I can ever be.
The only word I kept under my tongue
my name – and yet it is dissolving
into the fog where all things are lost.
As the weight of my name slips
from my mouth,
I feel how latching onto anything is
I feel how letting everything go is
also a suffering.
And I keep swaying in the currents of
and wanting nothing.
I am living
but I do not know what to do with this world
or with myself.
I have no answers.
Words do not have much meaning
on the lips of someone
who has been abandoned by every word.