The next-morning depression

(I wrote this on the 27th and 28th of Oct)

I tried to wash away the tears,
But the water from my eyes was more than that in my hands.
The bitterness of my tears overtook the neutrality of the river.
What is it about my tears that incite anger rather than compassion?!

People’s faces in public transport in the morning, that are so neutral and cold.
No one knows how different they were last night.
A warm smile on a warmer shoulder, laughs of joy and excitement,
Or wails and screams begging a loved one not to leave.

I can’t seem to smile at children again.
That disgusting envy!
Why couldn’t I have the same love and happiness they have?
Why couldn’t I have the warmth that all creatures need?

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A group of poems/letters

This is a group of poems/letters which I’ve written over the past months.

A lucid dream

(I started writing this one on 03-07-2017 and finished it on 10-07-2017. I remember writing it as a letter to my love some time during the same month.)

You know how, when in a lucid dream,
the boundaries of reality become so fragile
I wanna take you out of this world
Away from all of its demons and all of its gods

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A quick warm forever

(I wrote this about my friend SR, and have been struggling for a while to complete it. I guess that means it is complete, so I decided it to post it as is.)

When you step out of a warm shower on a cold night, the world seems colder.
But it’s somehow warmer, when you step out of a warm hug that you’ve awaited forever.
“But forever could just be around the corner”, she said without a second thought.
A thought that lingered in my mind.
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A ghostly wish

(written on Jan the 31st, 2017)

Sometimes I wish I was a ghost.
Which is actually different than wishing death.
Because the ghost I’d be would be very alive.
More alive than I’ve ever been.
Than anyone has you’ve ever seen.
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My cold and dark universe (Part 4: More on cold loneliness)

I wanted everything I never had
Like the love that comes with light
I wore envy and I hated that
But I survived

I had a one-way ticket to a place where all the demons go
Where the wind don’t change
And nothing in the ground can ever grow
No hope, just lies
And you’re taught to cry into your pillow

~ Alive, Sia

 

A weird kind of loneliness:

For years I had no good ways of expressing my agony. I wasn’t even allowed to cry in my bedroom when I needed to. I didn’t even have a bedroom of my own, as I shared one with my younger brother. The number of nights in which I wanted to sob or scream but suppressed my voice as not to be heard are just countless. That was regarding the space I had in my home, or rather lacked.

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My cold and dark universe (Part 3: A universe from bitterness)

We usually forget months and even entire years of our lives, but there are some moments, some nights, that can never fade away from our memories.

I always say I have a very bad memory. Could it be my brain’s way of defending itself against grief?

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