I have a thing about ends- I cannot do it, it has to be done to me. It must happen. Things must continue till they rot and bleed. First in places where no one can see and then in places where no one can look away from. And words must be said – cruel words. They must be said by someone, but it won’t be me.
I rush up to the jar of those colorful wrong words and choose first, all the words that seem like hope but they aren’t, while purposefully leaving behind in the hand of others only those words that seem like rage, but it is not, it is more of helplessness, but I do not tell them that. So now, in my tears they see the new monsters that they are made of, the monster I can’t bear to be.
Even as they become problems that they never wanted to be, I must remain good, I must remain kind. I must remain the one that held on. I must save my illusions at any cost. I won’t give the excuse of my weakness, of my broken heart, of the fragile thread from which my existence is suspended, of how I am already clawed open and torn apart by life, or how I would rather at the end of it want someone to hate than to mourn things that died with all the good parts of me. Or how I have always loved everything a bit too much. I won’t give the excuses even I cannot believe in.
I refuse to give up with spite and with malice even because how can I ever walk towards any goodness in world again knowing the feeling of the dying pulse of a miracle under my hands. I am ready to suffer. I am ready to break every heart including mine. I am ready to paint this world with monsters and be the evil one but I refuse to do that killing.
I sit on the cold boulder and film everything, just like I am told. I am told, only for today, I should stop sewing myself up haphazardly, messing up the live-stream, and talking about things that will never happen. I have been told to put a hold on the wonderful manipulation that does no good to any effort my mind puts in fixing things back.
My mind doesn’t like me much, understandably. And I don’t like the idea of fixing anything- a harder concept. Maybe that’s why I burn as my mind looks around me. Maybe I should actually stop, when I am told to but I don’t want a way out, I don’t want to look.
“i promise not to hurt anyone but me” “i am fine like this. don’t take my tears seriously.” “please don’t mind the doctor’s note.” “please don’t mind the smoke in this room, it is a temporary solution to my emptiness, till something worse comes along.”
There is an exit sign that flies far away from me. There appears a road that it eats itself up . There are bridges that I have cried over and the fires that no longer burn. Everything of beauty that I had in me I have lost it here. I have burnt my body, nerve by nerve, for the sake of peace and love. Let me live here near the ashes of my past selves near the life that cannot be, around things that can’t be helped.
“warm” this word has become cold sitting at the base of my throat my throat burns and my everything else? my everything else -my pretty flesh and my ugly insides- who want me to be there and at the same want me gone. i guess they want me to change. this is my new low where my organs are my imaginary friends the only ones Ican talk to, the only ones who need me, the only ones I can disappoint, my new friends who are learning the weariness of living for me. I ask around for a lover who has a love for knives and tolerance for madness of all kinds. I hear a hundred thousand sighs in me when the new replacement of romance appears, asks me my name and digs his sharp canine teeth on the last bits of my happiness as a hello. The hundred folded cranes look more like ravens and the one who promises me an end is now my only hope. Now things are easy now that I can’t hear myself breaking now that I have this strange loud laugh to hide behind, this person stranger than me, taking up the blame of everything I have done, helping me hide from everything that I have killed in my life.
shadows of evening are still in my room the morning rays, the flickering light bulb, your laughter, they don’t do much.
cause this life of mirrored sunshines and smiles makes me feel nothing. there is something wrong with my heart which you might have known all along.
i toss another piece of me into the ocean. it is one other piece of me that you will never see, will never have again. you hold my hand and tell me what i have thrown away was too difficult to find in this world, that it was your most favorite thing about me.
i want to cry and apologize to you but i sit there feeling relieved now that I have one less thing to lose. there is something wrong with me to not want your kindness and your love. it is not your fault dear.
When all things that are not divine found a home in me, I realized they would probably be the only friends I ever make. I read up many books and considered taking up some mildly destructive and slightly disturbing hobbies, so that I could know them better. So I could become someone they could accept. I looked for a teacher who could teach me how to love back darkness, how to become a wound itself instead of nursing one forever.
I want to say I found happiness in that one friend with sad eyes and bitter lips. But there still lived in me that one girl made of light who wanted to ruin me by guiding me back to life.