I place broken glass of every color at your feet. I know how you loved the way they looked. I will re-create every beauty that you asked for, I will make them incapable of the danger that you fear. So that you can walk in this unsettling world, walk over every broken glass. I can draw a faceless person to walk by your side, so you don’t have to feel sorry when you forget their names or when they forget you. It is a world you can never be in but I will draw it anyway, because this world that I don’t want for you is the only world that can make you happy.
beauty may be only skin deep but lack of it goes deeper than that. so deep that you end up learning to want things that you wouldn’t otherwise even think about. i wish i could remember every face that was surprised to know that i am okay with looking older than i am, surprised that i do not want to exorcise fats especially when i have got so much of it. every morning i wake up they hover over me like faceless shadows with black markers, drawing over my body showing me all that is wrong, giving me tips so that i can become easy to look at, hiding their superficiality under the wraps of concern, whispering how thick-skinned i am when i don’t listen and wondering what is wrong with the ones who love me. it made me wonder that maybe going under the knife wouldn’t be as bad as being smeared black by markers. that maybe i am supposed to love myself only after the world approves of the ‘me’ that i want to love. i would have understood if they cared, if they actually meant good, but they don’t because they know nothing more than my name and they say my name only with heart-breaking adjectives and assumptions. i want to say they are wrong, but i have suffered their gaze for so long that sometimes i end up sharing their hatred of me, of what they see. there are days that i obsess over a passing comment. there are days i beat up myself for being like this. i starve and fail, i try to get over their words and fail, i try to hate myself and fail. i want to say it doesn’t matter but it does because i am tiring myself out by trying to see something good in me, by apologizing to myself, by trying to save my heart while they burn my body in the woods.
I was convinced that if I wrote a bit more my skin will turn into the golden sand that lines the beach that I write of, that I can finally dig into myself without bleeding, without anyone’s help, without anyone’s love, and find something of value in myself.
But when I reached that shore and I saw that sky I forgot to dig, to look for myself. I sat there and thought ‘I am lucky to see this beautiful sky’. In hindsight, I think it was fortunate (and surprising) that I didn’t ruin that moment, that feeling just for the sake of finding myself.
I can help you count everything you have. These objects have no meaning to me but I know something about life even if I don’t know everything. I know that your hands will stop shaking only if they keep counting, only when you have confirmed that you have not become poorer that you were a minute ago. I know that you don’t enjoy being like this, even though people say you are weird on purpose. I know that you have stars on your ceiling, only because the ones in the sky have abandoned you too many times.
So I will not tell you how to live your life. I will not force the disease of my heart into yours, in the name of cure. Build walls all you want, but keep me inside them with you.
“We are stronger than we think.” I always avoid saying such nonsense. I have always hated words that have no meaning , no real sympathy, words that almost sound like: “shut up! stop crying! we have had enough. don’t make the atmosphere so depressing. we can’t help it. you can’t either. why bring up such topics.” I never wanted to sound like that to anyone. I don’t want to be one of those who consider consoling someone equal to convincing them that what they considered precious, what they considered life shattering was nothing, that what the grieving cares for is nothing.
But then, what are the right words?
“We are stronger than we think.” To spew such nonsense. Even when I said that to her, I wondered why I said that. Have I been surprised by my strength ever in my life? Probably not.
But I remember feeling that my happiest days have walked past me, when I realized the futility of life, of my life, my insignificance. And how I somehow made it to the days where I found something to look forward to, where I found myself between people whom I could love. The fact that I could wait for such days in spite of the misery that was once unbearable must mean something. To wait for something that may never arrive must require some kind of strength. To loose every paradise we stumble on, to bleed every time it is lost and to still believe in the concept of paradise must require something more than the strength we think we have.
Thank you for seeing my rough and the jagged mind, blood running down my arm, hope running out of my eyes.
Thank you for trying and for telling me when you couldn’t try anymore. You have made me feel that I also deserve decent goodbyes.
You cannot love me.
I could have loved you,
though I didn’t.
But it is fine.
Call me at the end of a tiring day,
when you cannot move one step further,
I will try to soothe your heart
just like you did.
love? no, i suffer from no such thing. even if i do, that is an easy illness. there are delusions that i can buy that can ease all these pains of affection. if nothing else, my lover and my heart knows all the lies, that can put me to sleep even when my world burns.
loneliness? maybe, it could be one of the things that i do not know how to get around.
self-doubt? yeah, probably that’s the reason why i feel lonely even when i am not. no there are no bad people in my life. all of them are too good and too sweet. though there are loud voices of arguments in the middle of night and things i wish had never seen or heard, there are threats of abandonment, there are days when we end up playing this game where no can hear what i say- it is not much fun for me, but i hope they enjoy it. i need to be a bit fun, to keep everyone around. but it is nothing serious, nothing I cannot ignore.
i need to leave though. uncomfortable? no, not at all. just things that i must get back to, life that i must live, people i should bow to, who never ask me how i’ve been. so i’ll get going if you don’t mind. don’t be sorry that you couldn’t help.
I couldn’t help but to love you, this you, that from your darkness pushed me away, tried to save me from my choices.
When I told you that I loved you for your selfless honestly, you made up your mind to leave.
You told me as you packed your bag that all honesty is not selfless, that while you pushed me away you knew that I would love you even more.
As a goodbye you braided my hair with the flowers of your tear. You left me with a letter, when you robbed me of your shadow, with ink dipped in concern, saying that you wanted me to be better than your second chance, a daily pill to forget what you are, a shoulder to bear your burden. That only by rejecting the luxury of being loved unconditionally, could you ever learn to love and see me as a human who can bleed by loving too much. That your leaving might be the only true gesture that shows what you feel for me, that it is the only thing you can do for me.
A shadow moves in the clearing ahead
avoiding the columns of lighted air.
It steps on the green
now splattered with red
and looks for a hand that can help,
to get rid of this blood.
It finds my face and looks away
seeing probably I am in a bigger mess.
I have not known
what it is like
to stop looking for ways to prove
people and their minds
as the root of my the problems.
What is it like
to stop hurting others,
thinking everyone out there
has something against me.
What it is to undo the harm
of many many hands.
What is it like to help someone forget
the pain of living.