Wilted Words

It isn't night. and it isn't late, I hope. but this thought -question- or the swarm of those thoughts and questions, are always there, never leaving me to have a moment of peace.   I don't know what triggers them, really I don't, if I did maybe I could stop these thoughts from hitting me the way tides fiercely hit the shores.    maybe they're buried deep within me, and they're constantly provoked by what people tell me, provoked to be unleashed.  I don't know what to do with them, to keep on suppressing them or to acknowledge their gnawing and noises ?    I know that the first step in solving problems is admitting having them.  but what if they were vague, unclear, like a fog surrounding your heart, blinding your sight, like a tight black blindfold on your eyes, stopping you from placing them ?  what is this all about ?  what is life  about? every time I get  lose to an answer it slips away, like a stream of ...

For a starter, nothing works out the way you plan it. I knew that. One could put the most legit plans in the world, the most calculated steps, the most reasonable rational decisions, they could put a hundred backup plans and tactics. but none of it would work.  I knew it, but it didn't stop me. I also know that feelings are feelings, they can't be planned or scenario-ed. and I knew that it was a possibility; that he'd never think of me the way I think of him.  but I didn't plan this. I could deny my heart all I want, I could overlook those new scratches and act like they're not there, but I was just lying to myself.  one more scar wouldn't matter, I said. I had a collection of them now, all shapes and sizes and colors. one more bruise will only add colors to this this blank lifeless heart in my chest.   I mourn the loss of what I could have had. of the happiness that turned out to be an illusion.   'hide your heart away fro...

Was it too much to ask for? She just wanted to meet someone who would make her feel like reading poetry, who would make her feel like writing it. Like listening to her favorite song in the early morning. Like the light drowsiness before she went to sleep. a sweet sweet illusion, like an angelic dream, the kind of a dream that would put a smile on her face every time it crossed her mind. She didn't know what love is, she doesn't know what that is. What if it's just an implication for what we see in movies and hear in music ? She thought. What if it was just desperation and loneliness wrapped up in a beautiful gown? Falling in love is beautiful, Falling out is painful as hell. love is tempting fire, blazing with promises of warmth and power. But then you get too close and you get burned. And you never want to try it ever again. She thought, I'd rather believe it was a myth, then believing it was out there and that I couldn't have it.

Do you ever wonder how your life changes constantly and how absurdly unaware you are of the exact moment that the change happens ? Do you remember growing up ? the last time people stopped treating you like a child, the last time your mom read you a story or your dad held your hand while crossing the street ? do you remember the exact moment, the very  first time, when loneliness found its way through your veins to your heart and pumped with your blood through your whole body ? do you remember the triumph you felt after tying your shoelace on your own for the first time ? do you remember your excitement at new experiences, before every  thing turned dull like a monotonic tune ? It saddens me how I lost my grip on all these moments. and I certainly don't remember how I ended up like this. I don't know how I ended up like this, I don't remember the exact moment I stopped believing people. not believing anyone who cares. There are many different kind of sadness...

I like to think of rain as particles of the sky. The sky is in love with the Earth, and when it misses it, the sky tears itself apart and falls. And we drink the sky, we drink its love and devotion and loyalty. we drink its fragments of life packed within those sheer feeble drops. The sky is willing to give away itself, not caring about all the risks it takes, not considering the fear of falling or what might happen to it after it reaches the Earth. it falls hard, and all at once, raindrops don't take it slowly, they don't fall gently. Desperate beautiful love, lethal love. and maybe the Earth blossoms, grows roses and turns green and comes alive after knowing the sacrifices the sky did. knowing how precious every single droplet of water was. there is no doubts, only faith. there is no hesitation, only desire to reach out. I look around and see that a world was made of love. I see it withing the winds, I see it in tides. I see it everywhere I look. and I wish...

Time move one, even when we don't. humans, we have many restrictions, many boundaries, countless limitations. and most of them are of our own making. We blame a concept we created for not getting what we want. For not achieving what we definitely deserve. for not pushing ourselves, not running the extra mile, not trying hard enough. we blame time for our wounds, our pains, we blame it because it was the wrong time, or timing was off and that we would've done it differently if we had another chance, we also demand it to heal us. to make things easier for us, to help us forget. we wait and wait for the right time for happiness, we waste our life waiting and waiting, waiting for the time we graduate, waiting for the time we'd meet someone to change our life. waiting for the right moment to open up and show the world that we're worth it. to show someone how you feel about them. we never consider that it might be late. that a split second can make the d...