You are like a flower
Who wilt when sun doesn’t reach
But many can’t see the beauty in it
I am the lover of wilted flowers
Sticking onto the random pages of my books
You are like a hot sand
It feels like an anger
Likes burning with its touch
I am in love with beaches
Because sand gives me warmth needed
You are like the climbers on a branch
Complicated in its own way
Threaded into multiple directions
I am the lover of swing
I like to have one on my support to feel
You are like the greenery of the trees
It fades away with time
Into nothingness feeling shy
I am the lover of fall
It makes the existence feel small
Night never felt so strong. Something strange. Something beautiful happened. I saw you in my dreams. These dreams are special. Because you are special. I dreamt these dreams without falling asleep. The whole time my eyes were open. Shining with the pearls of tears and smile on my face. Maybe it’s not only me who is crying a happy laugh. Somewhere out there in the world, someone is missing you too. The only regret I have is not tagging along with you to the journey of self. A journey where self is free. And I’m still trapped here. In your memories. I wonder when you look down and see me lying here on the floor watching the moon and cursing it’s beauty to have you in its arms, do you see me being hopelessly jumbled over our memories? Well, I guess no question will be answered today. But if you are looking at me, I beg you to give me courage. Courage to set myself on the same journey of self. It’s pathetic to be in the sewer of making my breath working slow when reality is always one step below. I agree with you today, no one is meant for anyone. It’s all just a world of illusion trying to trap us here leaving to suffer more in order to gain more suffering. It is true that love is a lie and lies are loved. The thing with a beautiful life is that it ceases the power to set yourself free. It entraps you in the world of illusion made to look out as happy scenery.
I held my blanket close as I heard someone shifting under my bed. The creaking sound of the floor under my bed was so clear to my ears. I was covered in sweat. Terrified. I always have been terrified of the monster under my bed. I covered my mouth, preventing myself from making any noise while sobbing in fear and anxiety. Suddenly, I heard the thing under my bed growling. My whole body went cold. The growling continued to grow more and more loud. Growling. Growling. Growling. Wait, I heard something else. A whimper? Someone is sobbing. The thing under my bed was. The cries were masked behind the growls. If overlooked the terrified growling, its as if someone is crying very hard. I couldn’t move. I was too afraid to make a move. I laid there doing nothing but listening to the cries for an hour. Minute by minute the sound increased with intensified pain. The crying didn’t stop for a second. Now curiosity rose in my mind. I slowly uncovered my face from the blanket. The whimpers felt stronger now. As if the thing under my bed was really hurting. Hurting bad. I collected whatever courage I’ve left in me to take a look under my bed. Horrific. Its face was hideous. Swollen. Blood all over the body. Scratches all over the arms. And scars all over the thighs. Blood red eyes. Those eyes looked up. The moment it met my eyes, it stumbled back in terror. As if it was afraid that I’ll hurt it. Looking at its vulnerability, the flame of my fear went down slowly. I moved to reach out. To help. But it stumbled further back to get away from me. I assured I won’t hurt. It looked at me with little hope. After few minutes, it reached out to hold my hand. We didn’t say anything for a while instead just kept holding hands. Its hold was much stronger. I started talking. But it never replied. Kept looking at me. In between it kept whimpering in pain.
“Why were you crying?” The first question it asked.
“I was afraid.” I replied honestly.
“Of what?” It asked curiously.
“You” I didn’t hesitate.
It remained silent. It looked a bit relaxed by my answer.
“What are you afraid of?” I asked curiously.
“The person who leaves after turning the lights off with his belt.” It answered.
I paled as I heard the answer.
“Why were you crying?” I asked after few moments.
“It hurts.” It replied.
“Where?” I asked.
It didn’t reply. It just stared at my body which was covered in blood and belted new bruises which I got from my dad two hours ago before he left.
Count before you go to sleep
He whisper as it rustles with wind
As his nails tearing the arm’s skin
With the bleeding arm he reaches out
For his heart
And he feels bones protecting it
The nothingness between the skin and bone
He watches his weight melting
Says the skin drying the Satan’s wine
It gets emotional over the state of weight
And lifts it’s veil
Eyes turned blue stare back at glee
I wonder if it’s a reality
Being good at something really matters in life. It can be anything. I say anything. It doesn’t matter if someone else approves or not but being good at something makes us feel at least worthy enough to be someone. Personally, I have never been able to feel this kind of feeling. I don’t have any particular talent nor I’m good at something. And it doesn’t only reflect to myself. It also reflect to the people around me. I’ve heard people saying that I’m good for nothing. They have told me that people like me are just a burden to this world and nothing else. People like me are born without any purpose, literally just living away our lives as a robot. According to others, I’m striving to live such a wasteful life just because I don’t have the courage to take it away. If you ask me if I agree to this or no, I would say I don’t know. But what I know is that it is tiring to live like this. Tiring but it is an endless cycle for me. People often say that there is a light at the end of every dark tunnel. But no one talks about the anxiety and struggle between the darkness and the light of this tunnel. This is discouraging but it is the reality. A reality from which we often run away. Which further makes us more vulnerable and helpless. To take everything in a positive way requires us to make a stressful journey. A journey filled with passion and pain. Then only you’ll find yourself in a positive path. And accepting reality is the first step.
Tonight I can’t sleep
And I hear this girl weeping
Maybe in sorrow or for someone’s love
Then I turn around to find a book
I reached out to it and brought it to my chest
“Love can feel like a lace binding my life into miseries”
I feel tears gliding through her cheeks
Later I brought my hand to her lips
And I feel her smiling
Guided to the glory of angels in wasteland
She whispered praises in her heart
And I was astonished by the fact that destroyed the minute
The mirror between stood flashing billions of memories
I saw her reaching out in desperation and love
And she picked the moment
Where her lips touches with her lover
And I slip back into my consciousness
As my soul wretched out of it’s body
To make up for that moment
When I shove her down to her sleep
With the dagger in my pocket
And smile on my eyes
I don’t know from where I should start. This maybe the first time I’m confessing something like this. I don’t know if you will read this or not. I don’t know if you still remember me or not. But I’ll let it all out here today. It really wasn’t my intention to start liking you. Trust me. It really wasn’t. At first, I was just intrigued. Whenever I looked around myself, I only saw people leeching off emotions or tearing other people’s feelings down. They were all desperate and not at all genuine about things. But when I first looked at you smiling at her, it felt different. It was my first time seeing someone being different from everyone else. I don’t know if it was intentional or not intentional from your end but I felt good looking at you. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t like you back then. I didn’t think much about it. After that we met only once but that day I was too busy being miserable myself and awkward with you. I didn’t even care back then. After that I forgot everything about you. It was a year later when I started getting intrigued again. When for the first time I felt you are really good looking. I wasn’t attracted to you back then too. But it sure lead me to the way to like you. You and I, both live in two different worlds. And someone like me wouldn’t even be alive as a being in your memory. But it doesn’t matter. I like being anonymous. It’s true that I was never really attracted to physical qualities. Your emotions and intellectual are the things I’m most attracted to. It’s also true that I may not know you really well but I can feel every emotion of your through your posts. Sadness, happiness, anger, excitement, calmness, etc. Every single emotions I’ve treasured it in my heart. Sometimes I want to have confidence in myself to come out and text you. But in a second that confidence breaks down when I look at mirror. You and I are really living in a different world. Your emotions and feelings through posts, big or small, makes me feel alive in my lifeless life. It may sound exaggerated but it’s true. Therefore I don’t want to ruin your life or my relations by bringing myself out to you. I’m happy being anonymous and I hope you wouldn’t have to deal someone like me in your life ever. I want you to be happy. And I’m okay by watching you being happy from far. I’m sorry I didn’t want out to come as shitty confession but I’m glad I let it all out here. I don’t know when I’ll move on but I don’t want you to look back at bad things anymore. Last but not least. I like you. A lot.
PS: I still wonder if you even remember my real name.
There was once a time when colours would interest me the most in this world. Whenever I looked at the world, the colours filled in it would make me so happy that it would tear open my heart into happy tears. I loved how the sky filled itself with palette of different colours after it poured down heavily. The colour of the stars shining high above in sky felt like someone sprinkled sugar powder on a dark chocolate cake. But such excitement to see these colours eventually died down after a while. Soon these colours became regular boring chapter of my life. At some point, I even started hating these colours. It made me feel everything fake. Superficial to be honest. If looked deeply down inside these colours, there is nothing but a deep hollow dark tunnel without any light. And that’s what life became. Life came out like these colours. Hollow and dark from within. Superficial from outside. At some point, these colours became a heavy burden to look at. I think sometimes it’s okay to be colourless. Not all colours are filled with life. Also not all life are colorful. I may not be the only one who doesn’t see the meaning in colours or life for that matter. And I guess that’s okay too. In order to make myself feel something, it isn’t necessary for me to believe in all these colors. All of us have our life painted with some or the colour. Maybe some of us have ours filled only with black or grey. It sure would look plain and depressing from outside but at least it gives me the sense of contentment. It is my black canvas and I’m contented with the feeling of plainess in it. It isn’t necessary for me to bring all of the colours and mess it up.
Not all colours are filled with life. Also not all life are colorful.RS
Today, I heard someone saying that people often loose the happiness laying beside them because most of the time these happiness are overlooked. The only thought that came to my mind was,” It must have been so easy as well as hard for this someone to say something like this.” It isn’t that people deliberately chooses to ignore the chance laid just beside them to be happy. At moment, it takes a lot of courage to look anywhere else when your pain is the only way of your living. These people are not so privileged to have time to look what is beside them. But then, this someone must have lost so many chances to look beside them. This is why they must have said something like this. At times, we blame ourselves for all the sin in our lives. We think if only we could have tried harder. But where does the world stand among all these? I say if only world would have given a chance. That would have made me privileged to look beyond my sins.
As I write, tears keep falling. Maybe it’s all the things I’ve endured all this while. It’s not even a big deal. Now that I look at the sky, I wonder who else is crying like me at this time of the night. Maybe someone is very ill and unable to live the pain they are feeling. Or somewhere someone’s cat died the earlier morning. Is it in a big city, an ideal man failed an interview or somewhere in the cot someone is hungry? The girl who faced the first break-up or the boy whose wife lost her first child? Maybe someone who feels nothing lying on the bed or someone who feels too much to for the actor on the laptop. Sufferings sure are inevitable. It is natural in this world to open up when something is hurting inside. One regresses pain in heart to suffer longer in order to punish oneself. But isn’t it tangling your heart into more hatred? If the pain in your heart had voice then you would have heard it whimpering quietly too. I’ve heard that in this world the most easy thing is to disappoint others but I think the most easy thing in this world is to disappoint oneself. As I said, sufferings are inevitable but is it not better to feel it to remember the sense of despair when you overcome it? That is the sweetest thing you’ll ever experience in your life. So all the people who have been crying tonight with me for whatever reason that might be, let’s feel it and keep it our heart forever. For all we know, it will come back as the sweetest pleasure ahead to bite us in the ass.
Memories sure know well to hold themselves even when we don’t remember.RS