𝓜𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓪~

For a fleeting moment, I wished for the brakes not to work, I may be sinful for this, but what a pleasure it would be to fade.. to turn into something less heavier, to let go of existence.

There should be a law that protects hearts from being shattered. How is it fair that the one who broke my soul is living his best life, as though he committed no crime against another human being, while I am left fighting in silence just to stay alive? For God’s sake, how can this be fair? Why do I have to carry the weight of all this suffering alone in the end?

In another life, maybe I wouldn’t have fallen this deeply, only to end up collecting every shattered piece of my heart from the ground. I wouldn’t have given my soul, just so it could be suffocated so effortlessly...

At the bottom, there is my home. The emptiness that once consumed me has taken shape, turning me into its prisoner. At the bottom, you exist beneath life itself, where light never reaches, where being alive or dead feels the same. There are no hopes, no memories, only a soul that grows weary of carrying you. And since everyone has abandoned you in one way or another, your soul leaving your body makes no difference. Who are you? Nothing.

It felt like grieving for a seed that, despite swallowing countless drops of water, never possessed the capacity to flourish. Perhaps the seed was never a seed at all, but only a small stone, and the rain too fierce in its devotion did nothing but drown it. And who is left to blame but yourself, your obsessive longing to give life to what was never meant to live, your temptation to nurture the lifeless, your delusional mind that insists on believing in miracles...

There’s something so addictive about receiving poetry in Arabic. You could write to me in thousands of languages, but none of them come close to how Arabic bewitches hearts, how warm it is, how it makes your whole body shiver. It swallows you and buries you so you can be reborn again. Write to me more, make me immortal on your paper...

Today I’ve been laughing hysterically, and for a fleeting moment I reached that fine line between insanity and grief. I lost control over my body, and the laughter turned so numb that it ended up as nothing more than a weep, a scream for help. My first intention was to laugh and forget my suffering. I wanted to forget how badly I was left out, how the person I fell in love with walked over my corpse and flew away. But why, tell me why, every way I tried to escape him, I ended up weeping for him…

If it was only a phase I'd have throw it away and walked past it with no shame, if it was a physical thing I'd have burn it alive, but it was your soul, emerging in mine, and making me who I am today, maybe I shouldn't have named you Sirius, I've betrayed myself for choosing a distant thing only because it was the brightest, and now that I'm blinded by the dark, would you ever come back ?

On the board of the train, the scent of farewell may be so overwhelming that hugs try to compensate for it in their own way, as if you’re getting too close to someone’s heart physically because you know they’re about to be taken away cruelly. Endless tears were shed, because that same heart knows that hugs and kisses will never be enough, no matter what. A farewell is sadistic, and no human heart can truly face it. On the other side of the station, two bright eyes were shining through the dark. She was walking fast, breathless, an immense joy invading her spirit, and I knew it was the opposite of a farewell, a meeting. Then she saw her friend waiting for her, she ran toward her and hugged her desperately. The eagerness, the intensity, the tears they were the same as in a farewell. However, this felt like birth, while the other could be nothing but death.

Marlena would have known the struggle, and her walking through me wouldn't have changed a thing, she deeply knows that what I need is more than she could afford, her faith in me would have faded away with time, then I'd have become no one, and she knows that I'm someone...

She took her rooks down, leaving the king exposed, weak and vulnerable. Stepping forward with no backup plan, she must be so naïve to expect an alliance, only to end up wrecked, body and soul, with cold blood.

I stared at them like walking corpses, carrying merely shadows instead of souls, reciting random words like a Bible. I don’t know whether it was envy or agony, but the sight of them suffocated me. On the other hand, there was me carrying galaxies, an immense ocean, an entire universe. The intensity of what I held consumed me to the core, and the possibility of uttering words was buried miles underground. While every piece of me was shattered, which one could I trust to hold my trembling universe together without weeping and bleeding like a defeated soldier?

This goodbye hurts more than any other. I feel like my soul is leaving my body. I was unable to speak, otherwise, I would have wept nonstop. However, he mistook my silence for neglect. He said goodbye and walked away broken. I could feel his shattered heart beating inside my chest. So please, forgive me, my tongue wasn’t capable of carrying words, my throat was bleeding, and my eyes were heavy from endless tears. Forgive me for not saying goodbye, for remaining frightened and traumatized by previous farewells. If I had been strong enough, I would have hugged you and told you that you made life bearable for me, that you brought joy to my gloomy days. I’m so grateful our paths crossed, and I’m broken that our end had to be so painful, deadly painful. It hurts like hell.

It's like standing on the rails, waiting for the train to crash into your soul. However, the farewell is more sadistic than the train, it keeps your soul alive to witness its slow death.

Months ago, I regretted staring that deeply into someone's eyes, only to find at the bottom someone else. The realization shattered me into pieces. The innocent features I once saw on a random Saturday suddenly faded away, replaced by the features of a serious man. A chill ran down my spine, and I knew there was no coming back from what I had witnessed..

And when summer is over, is there still anything in life worth living for?

It’s so draining to be forced to talk nonsense for hours, because saying the opposite would be even more exhausting than pretending the other person is right. It’s just another form of suffering shaping an adaptable version of yourself. You give them the privilege of being right, because somehow, it doesn’t even matter that much.