You told me of love and what it does to your heart and how your heart wants to see me and love me alone. But it is too hard. A harder task than you imagined it to be.
You loved me for my silence, for my grace of letting you go, and for the tears in my eyes always, only for you.
You stand outside my heart, filling my insides with your shadows, with your hopes. Becoming my only light. Asking me to step out of myself, asking me if I am up for another search of your heart- that you have left behind in someone else’s heart tonight.
You kiss my hand and tell me you like this better- me being your hope, your home rather than being your wretched love- the love that that leads you to your worst face.
I close my eyes and again I try to forget what I wanted you to be, what I hoped you would be for me. I try to forget the wretched love you have become.
and this sad premise is not a commentary on how rotten the world is but an observation that we have a pattern that is hard to break.
that people often misinterpret the habit of one thing as a proof of its superiority over everything else in world.
that words can move your heart, sometimes for worse. it can move you towards hatred, towards fear towards anger that is not your own.
that the wish to be right makes us forget how to wear someone else’s shoes or their color or their nationality or their body. a body that is no longer their own – now that they are just a sack of blood, a sacrifice to please our personal gods – our thirst of power and the “better world” that no one else wants.
this sad premise is not a commentary on how rotten the world is for i do not have the courage to write the worst or to imagine how i am right now walking over faceless nameless beings to maintain my world just like 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.
my feet relentlessly insist on burning themselves for the sake of summer mood.
i wear a shirt too big for me. a wear a smile a bit too small. i wear the worry of my parents on my neck.
i feel their fear when i smile back at strangers. i pretend to be the sand that no one can hurt. i pretend to be the sea that doesn’t end. i pretend no man in this beautiful scene would hurt someone like me.
but my feet, they burn, they bleed. my feet that only wanted freedom from the moment i was born, now they make me feel like the mermaid who was not wise enough.
i feel like i am losing a part of myself every time a stranger asks for my name, every time they accidentally touch my skin to fill me with shame and sin. i pretend to be cool, to be understanding, to be blind as i feel like the monster that brings out the worst in people. as i erase my memories everyday to put faith in people whom i find hard to trust.
Just for sake of missing you, here I am again, at the ill-lit spaces where you used to belong. I know all the strangers in there the ones who used to make your heart race. Here I am again, trying to test myself, pushing my luck, waiting to witness the record time in which I will break again. Here I am again, wearing all the faces of me that you never liked. There was something about the way you hated me, that made me become worse. There was something about the way you loved me, that made me become the worst. Here I am again to become the monster that I have been since I realized what it means to love you.
wave after wave of cold air, of sad premonitions reached us, tried to convince us that this was a really bad idea. that on a cold day like this there were easier ways to find warmth, ways that would take away no part of us.
and frankly i was afraid. i stopped maybe a million times on my tracks. i waited for someone to call me to remind me of something really urgent that needed my attention. i almost prayed for you to give up.
but you kept walking. you kept repeating that this would be fun. so even when your hands were shaking and even when your eyes were red, i chose not to notice it. i chose to believe that your heart is stronger, that you would get us there.
you were always better at pretending for my sake. you pretended to know all the answers while i shamelessly hid behind you when doubts barked at me on streets. so when we walk on the river that could melt any day, any moment i wanted you to lean on my heart for once.
my fearful weak heart was the only thing i could give. i knew my love would last only moments and yours would last an eternity. but selfishly i held onto you. so when i kissed you and you smiled, i want to say i felt sad and guilty, but i did not. i was just happy, probably the happiest on this planet to have touched this sun, this spring, this filler of all voids, to have become the reason you will break. i really am the worst.
I was sat down and told repeatedly everyday that though the world belongs to all of us, sometimes it is better to step back, to only take up the space we need. I misunderstood it to be a lesson in humility, wanting less, and sacrifice, but I realize now that it was not so. I was told to stop before I anger someone, before someone got jealous, or before they saw the weakness of my gender.
As I stand on the balcony at midnight and hear drunk shady men shouting, cursing, and stumbling, as they make their way to their broken homes, I remind myself this is what I am supposed to fled, a person who is allowed to loose their mind, a person who will always have excuse to hurt. This what everyone wanted me to become, someone who is proficient at spotting dangers, who can conjure up the worst possible scenarios when they hear another’s footsteps on deserted streets, and see the worst possible demons in the face of men.
These days I often hear people say that the new meaning of a powerful woman is the one who walks into misfortune willingly, before she is stalked and defeated by it. Is this the only alternative to what I am living?
I wish that when I walked past a stranger on streets I could smile and wish them a good day, without having to fear being misunderstood, without the echoes of ‘she asked for it’ in my mind.