Dalam cawan-cawan kenangan

Berkejaran, berjatuhan

Kau, secarik rindu

Berdentum-dentum malam ini.

Berdesakan dalam dada, tak henti henti.

Sesak. Aku harus kemana?

All the exhausting choices I made; I still remember the first day I questioned my whole life and identity. The moment I gradually isolated myself just to protect my serene bubble and sanity.

Amman was cold, the snow was harsh and it marked vivid blush on my cheeks. The year nearly ended. Day by day continued and I was stuck in the same state of being for the next few months. I found myself trying to get drown in a corner of Beytepe jungle; at Olimpik Hazuvu, just to diminish all the suicidal thoughts and the regret of being exist in my own skin.

It was three years ago.

Then I lost a relative. I howled every night to squeeze my tears. The pain of losing. The fear of being blamed, the fear of being a failure, the fear of being judged as a bad person, a bad daughter. The fear. The fear. A thousand fears.

Well, living my own life shouldn’t be that hard. I took a walk, oh, I’m the one who decided where she set her next step. I feed her, I tuck her into bed, I kiss her forehead and hug her tightly at 11 PM. Warm. Warm. I try to practice it daily, sometimes I fail, sometimes I do better.

I gotta choose her. I gotta choose her until today. Until tomorrow. Until next year. The year after. And hopefully forever.

Frankly I've been so overwhelmed with Palestinian issues and sensitive contents mainly on Instagram. Not that I dislike it, I'm just drained with my own self and deep down I spare a huge amount of empathy yet I just can't bear watching violence (in general, I know I'm weak).  

Today I'm assigned to write a brief report about it and the response/aid from European countries for the current flare-up. Reading here and there, trying to understand the deterioration there and it's saddening me so much. I know I'm helpless and I'm sorry that I've been such an ignorant. The occupation of Palestine is indeed complicated but it is also obviously-clearly colonization and ethnic cleansing. You must be a fucking moron if you stand with the oppressor.

I'm with Palestinians with all my heart. Demanding people to post and spread awareness is great and indeed needed, but accusing others who choose to not to (which they must be having reasons) isn’t acceptable either. We can know and support stuff with or without speaking up on social media. We choose. Social media posts don’t really determine our empathy and support. (on this, I refer to Gitasav)

Not that I want to, but that is what I always do.

--

The weather is nice outside and suddenly I have a strong urge to write. Just write. No planning. Just pour what I want. It’s been quite a while. 

Too many questions are swimming in the realm of my thoughts. Some anxieties floating and some relieving answers drowned. I have a class right now. But I refuse to go out. I blame my mood.

Today the weather is nice and I have various food stock. I’m not going to starve myself. I drink regularly, too. I just don’t work out. I need to start exercising.

Today my life is like fine dust. Invisible. Flying here and there, then stuck on the corner for a long time. 

Today, today, today. I don’t know till when I can use the word today. I’m haunted by death threat everyday, created by myself and the reality. I can’t count how many times I reach my own palm just to see that my hand is connected to my eyes, that I’m alive. 

Today I’m staying still. On my couch. Checking my breath, a sigh of relief. I’m alive till today.

--

When your eyes locked onto mine for a long moment, I hold questions like, "Why are you not afraid of love?

Why is your love so in rush?

How could you even call it love?

And frankly, I’m afraid of love and falling, will you be there to catch me if I fall?

Or,

Can we just don’t talk about anything painful? 

Why it has to be about love again?

No, no,

It's not grossing me out, it's confusing.

Look at my frown, screaming a yuck.

What is love? Why do you name it love?

What if it has different faces?

What if it fools you? What if you are mistaken?

What if it doesn't even exist and all the declaration you passionately state is merely a breeze?

It's temporary darling, just like us.

You'll feel it like a dream. You'll think of me as a dream last night.

When you close your eyes, I'll become your exhausting memory.

No, it's not me. It's all about you. You. You and your sacred love.

--

Life is tough. My breath weights so much burden. I hate being weak and vulnerable, but seeing my emotional rollercoaster these past few weeks, I'm feeling more more and more human. I thought I was a chill and indifferent person, but apparently I got irritated easily. It's vexationly saddening that the victim of my nitpick trait is myself. I'm starting to hate myself. I hate that I hate myself. Keshi's songs become more and more relatable.

I keep blaming on myself for being clumsy, stupid, not good enough, not being the best and staying mediocre. Not gonna correct or justify myself, but I apologize to people around me instead. And it hurts. It hurts that I admit my flaw beyond the flaw itself.

"You should stop saying sorry,"

When she told me that I was not wrong, things happen, just be careful, I feel my head already passed the surface of the earth, waiting to be buried. Embarrased. Wronged. Can't defend myself because I loathe arguing.

I hate that I generally laugh at people who are labeled as pushovers, when I'm apparently the same. I'm unconsciously okay to be treated bad. I hate that I let myself to be weak. I hate that I keep apologizing. I hate the fact that I'm a woman, not all the time but somehow I occasionally yearn to be another human being. I know this all sounds lame, but life is tough, and I barely survive.

That's it. That's this morning's update. I wish I could write something more appealing at the very least for myself but I only write when I feel down. Sorry (see, again another sorry).

--

Weird? Yes. I laughed, then I cried. I still remember the sounds of my keyboard when I was writing those old pieces of my mind, though I could not completely relate to the feelings behind those posts anymore.

Suffice it to say, I'm no longer familiar with my old-self, but I know her. I'm in content to just give her a smile while reminiscing how funny and great it was to be her. However, the me today is a result of our confluence.

***

It's the same scenario.

It feels like a cycle. I move out. I arrive. I'm alone. No one to talk to. Foreign language. I make friends. I set boundaries. I'm alone. I lost because of blind direction I possess. I ask around, I'm safe. I have fun with new friends.

The chapter ends. Dealing with good byes.

Repeat. I move out. I arrive. I'm alone again. Not a foreign language, but it feels foreign. I make new friends. I set boundaries. I feel numb and less emotional. Obviously, I'm alone.

Then I realize I've changed, or I am constantly changing. I hear people say things about me. I try to ignore it. I tell myself it doesn't matter but I gradually feel insecure. I take a break from social media. After a while, I know I could be a stoic.