I wish I’m delusional

Maybe what’s worse than the pain is feeling that there’s no one there for you. That all doors are closed … all eyes are void of care … all ears aren’t listening … all hands are unavailable … all kindness consumed … all hearts closed. I hate this feeling more than I have hated anything in my life. I wish I could know why it seems to follow me everywhere; no matter where I go … no matter what I do. I wish it’s just something in my head. I wish I’m delusional. I wish that somehow the doors are imaginary, the eyes are pretending, the ears are hidden, the hands are invisible, the kindness can be found, and the hearts just misunderstood.

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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 3rd letter

Dear Beloved S.,

Today I heard about a study on the effect of looking into a lover’s eyes for some time. They found that if two lovers continuously keep eye contact for a sufficient amount time (if I remember correctly: more than 4 mins), their brain activities sync. Moreover, they also found that their heart beats can sync too! One researcher described it as becoming “one large synchronized system”. Maybe that’s why I find myself staring into your eyes whenever I can without being able to explain why. Sorry if that bothers you.
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The second letter … to a girl I fell in love with

Dear Beloved S.,

Once upon a time, a couple of ducks were waiting patiently for their new baby ducks (ducklings) to hatch out of their eggs. Although all of the eggs looked the same, when they hatched, one specific duckling looked very different than all of the others. Yes, the other ducklings weren’t identical, but this duckling was very different. His neck was weirdly longer, his legs were weirdly darker, and even the color of his feathers was weirdly unusual. The mother and father ducks were so surprised, but they did their best to love him just like any other of their ducklings. The other ducklings, however, weren’t so nice to him. They never stopped making fun of him and avoiding him, and they called him “the ugly duckling”. As they grew up, our duckling tried his best to fit in by trying to act and look like like all of the normal ducklings. But despite all of his efforts, he never succeeded. The more he grew up the more obvious the differences became. He didn’t look like the others, didn’t walk or swim like them, and he didn’t sound like them. He always hated himself for being an outcast. Continue reading

I have become love

When Oppenheimer witnessed an experimental atomic explosion, he reportedly remembered the line from the Hindu scripture, the Bhagavad-Gita, “Now I [have] become Death, the destroyer of worlds.”

This, to me, is a very strong line. It often makes me think about how it didn’t say “I bring death” or “I have become the source of death”, and instead describes a state of “becoming death” itself. It’s so much power that it’s not only a “destroyer of lives”, rather a destroyer of entire worlds.
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My first letter to a friend

(I wrote this letter over┬áthe course of a few days to my friend whom I’ll refer to as S. -for privacy reasons- and delivered it to her on Wed, the 16th of March 2017)

Dear Beloved S.,

I’m writing this to you after almost 2 days of trying to respect your desire for me to leave you alone as much as possible. It has been very difficult for me, but if you are really happy, I’ll use all my power to bare the loneliness and the pain of being away from you when I want to be close, just for your sake and your happiness.

They say Einstein once said: “We can’t solve problems by using the same kind of thinking we used when we faced them.” I think there is a recurring problem in our friendship and I’m writing this to try and explain, in some detail, why I think there are better ways of dealing with bad times other than the way we’re currently choosing. I hope you read this carefully, put yourself in my place, and, at least, reconsider, for my sake, please.

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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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