Surely, I love you. Why else would I need to find a new me? Why else, after all these years, would my jagged ends and my fearful heart bother me, when I have finally learned to look at them with the kindness I was not born with? But do you have to necessarily know of this- these messy feelings of mine? You are making me change. You are making me learn a new hate towards myself , just by existing. Just the possibility that I might be in your heart kills me, makes me come alive, makes me want to undo the ties that I have held me safe, made me safe for the world. As long as you are here, I can never go back to the life where I exist with ease. It is ridiculous how I am convinced that I will be never myself if I am apart from you, even when I know it is a lie. Today, I carve another need in my heart, that I once could live without. Today I hate you a bit more. But you don’t have to know that.
And when we had run out of pleasant things to talk about I asked him things he didn’t ask me, things he didn’t want to be asked. But I was bored of the all this peace, all the ants that crawled into him, into me maintaining separate lines, to reach the places in us we both didn’t want the other to see. I guess I wanted him to be different, I had more than enough people who wanted to love me without knowing me. I guess I wanted to be difficult. For once I didn’t want to be the easy conversation, the easy way out of pain.
I asked him when the waves of life try to reach his foot, what does he do? Who does he think of? Whom does he drown in his mind every time, every moment to avoid knowing what he really feels? Does he almost hold that hand, does he almost save the one who will kill him first, who has always killed him without hesitating?
He seems to be the type who would do stupid tings on repeat at least thirty times before giving up on the one whose love didn’t surface even after the thirty wounds, or bloody hands, or hundred considerations. He looks so breakable and so happy I wonder if in the hollows of his heart where his anger and disappointments hides, are there flower beds of daisies, and a heart that can never be broken?
Is this how I look- like him, plagued and haunted by beautiful dead thing? Is that why he smiles at me without saying a word? Is that why I can’t smile back?
On my closed hopeless eyes you placed your lips and something in me broke open. And I burst from within, from all my prisons. From all my pseudo homes I heard myself crying.
I heard the the noises of television in the heavy air of my living room die out, I heard myself breathe. I heard the knocks on my door and found all my lost selves staring at me one second, embracing me the next.
They told me it could be the blue moon, it could be the cyclone that is running wild, it could be the end of earth predicted too many times, it could be flowers-that-no-one-loves blooming in our land, it could my restlessness and fear of being left behind, it could be you.
As you sink into the couch, forgetting the nail you painted seconds before, as you look around frantically for remote, as you leave the evidence of beautiful color on my skin, I realized, that I found in myself the honesty to say out aloud, to tell you, to accept that it is probably you.
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.
“You have changed”, I want to say. But the more you change, the more familiar you get.
Now you look like the girl who lied she is my friend. You look like the boy who crawled into my skin only to confirm that I can feel the hurt just as he can. You look like my hand that loves to strangle my heart. You look like the sad unwelcoming roads to my breaking home. You look like the one who desperately want to be remembered for leaving me in parts.
I want to say that I loved someone else that couldn’t possibly be you.
But you are a person of this world, you are the same as everyone else. You sit here with me hoping that you weren’t mine, hoping that I would look familiar to you if you looked long enough.
it was once possible to be a parrot who was a doctor who sang in a choir of angels who saved the world from villains with ridiculously evil funny names.
it was easy to speak of wants- a pair of shoes with lights and a glow in dark radium cello tape and an army uniform and cream rolls and a tiara with anything that shines and the cards i don’t know how to play and…
once i used to be simple. i left my sleep to live like the guy who runs for hundred years to rescue the princess. waiting to reach a blurry 8-bit princess that never shows up at any castle of my world was not a source of disappointment (or depression) then.
I am told that all this will end and we would finally reach a point where it all goes downhill, that our hearts will know real meaning of pain. Maybe it is the lack of my imagination that I cannot imagine any darkness where you are, at least not the darkness that I fear.
We are sandwiched between the pain of loneliness and pain of loving too much. The darkness would have still existed even if our eyes had not met. I am falling in love with the disaster we get to create together. If we are doomed, at least we are doomed in best possible way.
i did all that i must do and now no one asks me what’s next. thankfully, no one burdens me with with their dreams anymore. i am no longer a possible candidate for the worst, for taking over the misfortune of my mother’s life. i no longer have to worry about hurting my parents by being like them or living like them. thankfully, what bothers me, what eats me up is nothing that would keep anyone else awake and that is important.
in spite of this emptiness i write about and this loneliness that seems bigger than this world, all this do not stop me from laughing at jokes, craving for food that i shouldn’t eat, dreaming of another broken love with my only lover, from having a good time – that i will conveniently forget. nothing i cry about, no ailing that lives in me is too large to stop me from living.
i guess i carry an instability in my genes. if my eyes are in the color of sadness, i guess i got it from my parents. and they are lovely people who somehow raised me right in spite of having a tendency to mess up things and their sadness with life.
tomorrow i will probably hate them frequently again but they will nag at me when i reach home drenched in rain, will tell me sit straight and force me to eat what will keep me alive, will ask me to keep my phone down, and sleep a little bit more.
they will not ask what’s wrong and that will disappoint me, but they will let me do what i want to do (sometimes) and they will try their best not to wrong me. they will wish for my happiness, even if they have no idea what makes me happy and that is important.
because though i lived my extended teenage believing that i had no one, but it was not true. i saw no one and it is my fault. even when i thought i was not loved they have loved me silently. though it was a tiring love, it knew no end.