zeynep

I don't know if I look more like a jester who removes his clothes with tears in his eyes when I'm alone or like a witch who cursed many and ended up being trapped inside of her own.

What doesn't kill you makes you cry right in the middle of an empty house for the embrace of your mother when you know deep down, even her arms cannot fix what's been broken inside you now. 

Happiness comes in waves. One wave to my shores, a sigh of relief. One wave away, I’m filled with the idea of how I may never be able to fill what’s missing inside me, yet not even recognising the missing part. There’s no way to keep the tide still.

I really enjoy being in the present moment and just enjoying the day, but then I see every doubt and fear that I have waiting for me right around the corner of my street and my whole house is burning.

But to desire something is to desire to be desired back. And as the days go on, the anger slowly sinks to the bones and rules the soul. The mirror becomes an enemy, questions turn into a gun, and aims at you directly. What could've been is now a door and the possibility is a safe harbour that is way too far away from the reach of a hand.

I do not yearn for you only. If it was yearning, it would mend in your hands, but I want to bleed into your bones. I want to be moulded by your existence and I want to inhale every single atom that made an effort to become a part of you. I bleed my ink for you.

It was almost like putting an old record on and feeling some sort of belonging to the emotions that had never belonged to you. It was like dancing right in the middle of a darkness that brought only chaos and disaster, and still being able to make peace with it. It was like being seen, but not as a kid. It was like being seen as an adult who tried so hard to hide every drop of emotion and ending up getting exposed by the eyes that you wish would never stop looking for you in any kind of crowd. It was both the thirst and the tastiest drop of liquid that you can find, but refuses to linger on your tongue too long. It was everything, yet, it gave you nothing.

i am so scared of never finding peace not in this body but in this soul. every breath that i take is shaky and no matter how many times i survive the night, nothing makes me feel like i’m worthy of anything that is good to come.

growing as a person who notices subtle changes in everyone and never being the one who’s noticed has a saddening effect. no, i won’t have a latte like i used to, but you probably don’t know that because you didn’t really paid attention. but you changed your cologne and i won’t let you know that i paid attention so it won’t make me look pathetic. byeeee

i really hate being vulnerable with someone but whenever i see a flicker of understanding in someone’s eyes, my soul starts to act like Cathy from Wuthering Heights who’s begging “let me in!” to me so i can set it free and talk how i feel. but i never do so it keeps haunting me.

sometimes i find myself crushing under the weight of all of the things that i am

it’s not like i wait for you to stop the bleeding but to let me bleed next to you. i’ve always settled for the less with you.

i just sat down and thought about all the people who’ve ever lived and never been understood once. i hope the wind will bring them my name.

you are a product of gentle love and passionate desire. what a sight for sore eyes.

what if it all was just a protection?

you were the gentlest storm that i’ve ever been to.