today’s sadness is brought upon by the increasing count of the words that i have forbidden myself to speak.
today’s sadness is brought upon by the particularly sad song that i have chosen to listen.
today’s sadness is partially due to the strangers with sweet eyes, partially due to my angels with weak hearts, and also the fact that i must love (and have loved) everything wrong without causing pain to anyone but myself.
i must write without baring myself. i must write to never let myself forget what i can’t speak.
do not write this, do not be mean, do not be ungrateful do not blame, no names, no dates, do not put anyone’s weakness on show
all such favors that i must do for the sake of my perpetrators and my protectors.
i must act like a better person, even when i am not in my fingers i am told to hold everyone’s shame and everyone’s guilt, and find my freedom in that.
today’s sadness is a breather, the rare moment i allow myself to see how messed up all this is, before i turn off the light only to stumble through life again.
those who spent their lives wrecking their hands to mould me into something better, tried fruitlessly to break me without pain, to break me and make me into something that would be accepted by this world. they showered me with love so i won’t know, won’t remember how much it pained me or how much it hurt them to have gifted me this painful self-critical view of myself and this world.
while they are growing old, weak and distant my love for them looks like a failed seed that never grew nor flowered. the years that i spent with them has made me ungrateful. i have become the fish that never thanked the water that kept it alive, thinking that is what water is meant to do.
with time as a fail to become what i thought i am, as i realize that doing or even knowing the right thing to do becomes more impossible as you get to know this world, i begin to understand the enormous love they must have had for me to hold my hand and walk with me in a world that they had never seen only for my sake, knowing that their courage and their tears are destined to be forgotten (or worse- questioned).
and my love? my love, it grows in opposite direction of sun, my love for them grows into the soil my heart in a world where they won’t see and won’t know. i will remain cruel and indifferent even in my own eyes. so i hide my muddled feelings and walk around those who have made me what i am whatever that may be.
yesterday, coincidentally i met the couple that always looked cute together. the ones i thought will be together forever. yesterday, i was sad for the first time that they are together even after so many years. that they made something out of their love, when we can’t.
as i smiled at them and asked them about their wonderful life, i didn’t feel happy at all. i wanted to just find you and ask you “why couldn’t you give me this happiness, why you had to be as weak as me”.
and when they asked about you i had to lie that you are doing well. when they asked if we could all meet up, i gave them my old number that no longer works. they were so happy, that it ruined my whole day.
so yesterday was another day when i learnt that i am not a really nice person. i could see why you didn’t like me enough.
why is it so that i can only choose love if i let myself look weak. it should have been easy to look weak and crumbling, when that is what i feel all the time. but it isn’t easy. maybe because the weakness of my heart has never made me look incompetent, it just made me look cold and aloof. being good for nothing is more tragic than being broken or being hated.
how hard i have tried all my life to be good at something. so that i am not useless, so that people don’t leave me behind on purpose, so that i can at least look like someone capable and not be embarrassed of myself.
after all the years of running around and making myself believe that soon, soon i will become someone i can be proud of; instead of finding myself, i find you. i find the in myself the want to let go of this control, that hurts my hands, but letting go hurts my pride.
somehow i can’t stop blaming you for asking me to live as me, for asking me to stop hurting myself. what do you know about the life i have lived? what do you know about the things i have sacrificed for living like this? how can you ask me to break what i have built for years?
i cry, i push you away, i cling to the what i am supposed to be, asking you why you can’t just be what i supposed you would be. again i am asked to choose between me and this world. again i know i will choose myself. (by choosing to please the world rather than choosing myself?) but you have some nerve to declare that i won’t. i hate you for your stupid confidence and your disregard for all that i will lose.
you are now just a butterfly in the unruly garden of my life.
you were once the laughter in our home. your hands were once as warm as mine. you were so many things, the one who knew how to make everyone smile, the one who could soothe my heart with a kind understanding glance, the one who never cried (now I guess you must have cried, knowing how you left us here like this).
they told me you were too weak to live. i gulped down their answer even when i knew they were lying. i was afraid of knowing the real reasons, i was afraid of knowing what I had overlooked.
the soil was so soft in my hand, the day they buried you. i cried through my meals for days. no one consoled me. no one told me things will get better. no one told me to grow up. and something told me i would never grow up.
Sit here and cry your eyes out. I know you don’t want to look weak, that you don’t want my strength to be the only things that keeps you standing. But if only you would cry, if only you would let your weakness show, I could find in myself the courage to let you see my tears as well.
This love of mine, it is not much I know. It cannot do anything. It cannot stop you from closing your eyes on me. It cannot do anything but suffer thinking of the day you heart will forget to beat. It terrifies me, to think you are already half gone, that I will get to see the years that you won’t.
I want to tell you that I love you. I want to hear back the same words, I guess. But these words, they refuse to come out of me. I only want to remember the moments when you said you hated me. I want to believe that even in this pain your heart will be lighter by leaving me behind.
the lights rush past us the river drowns our image this air that i can’t breathe this life you can’t live your hand that i can’t leave all make me cry how did i turn out to be this pitiful?
I tell myself stories about why I threw away all that I had, or why everything was taken away from me. How I was too weak, will always be too weak to carry the weight of the gifts that I had. Or how I was never quite convinced that I had something to be proud of. How I was always trying to gauge how much deep my feelings ran for everything that I could only sort-of-love. I can list all similar attempts where I sought a better quantitative understanding of my specialness and used these unreliable results to decide how and when to give up. But if I had to give one consolidated story of why I was never a failure at anything, why I never succeeded, why I had nothing to show for the years I lived or for the talents that people remember me for. If I had to be concise and true I would say I never made those decisions, I was never aware of how I felt about all the things that bother me now. I drifted away from what I was, from what I treasured, the way dear friends lose touch, lose each others name, lose a happiness they could have had. Only to be reminded of this loss when it no longer matters.
The lines that you drew to my heart all of them are dissolving, so easily. Is forgetting, is leaving that easy? I look at you and try to find somewhere in you some feelings for me, an attachment that could mirror the state of my heart.
I am sorry that I am disappointed when I told you I won’t be. I am sorry that I cannot rise above this weakness that love brings back in me. But what is the alternative? -the lonely days -the days spent hating the world -days spent hating the one I love -days spent in regret -days spent breaking those whom I can touch but never love -days spent waiting for you to come back and meanwhile converting every hour of my suffering into an life of anger that you must bear even if you return I hate them. I hate all these alternative.
I have no option but to hold you
and hope that after all this time
maybe a little part of you would stay,
if only for the sake of stopping my tears.
Sure I don’t feel hollow for the every minute we don’t speak.
Sure I don’t wait for your messages when I am with friends.
And I don’t feel weak
even when your anger breaks my back
and your love breaks my heart.
You told me something was wrong with me
and this is not how people usually love.
They find ways to be with each other
and miss everything they had together,
even with the distance of few hours.
You told me, so I doubted.
I doubted the way I loved.
I doubted I knew what I feel and how I feel,
but after putting myself under the heat of
and comparing what I was to every girl you liked.
And now I can assure you
that I love you and I miss you
but just not the way you’d like.
For every hero that walks this earth,
that shines on screens and stories
takes up your face
and every quote of love gone good and love gone bad
brings up our image.
But my kind of love knows not how to turn away from
everything I have always loved
(even my loneliness)
just because I love you.
So sorry for not being the usual.
Sorry for being this weak.
You are beautiful,
because whenever you are amused, surprised,
sleepy, curious, interested or irritated,
you look like a child
who can hold my hand
and be really happy
when I offer you the cheapest candy.
And I can be the child who feels pride
because of your smile.
So even if I am gifting you
something so insignificant
as my weak heart
you wear it as if it is your shield,
even when you don’t need one.