#lovewithoutwords

Bir anne kedi…

Sığınmış bir barınağın soğuk köşesinde, yavrularını korumaya çalışan bir kalp...

Onu anlamak için konuşmasına gerek yok, gözlerine bir kez bakmak yeter.

Ne kadar çaresiz, ne kadar güçlü aynı anda...

Biraz beklemek, biraz sabretmek bu kadar mı zordu?

Bir anne, yavrularından ayrı kalmayı hak etmez.

Hiçbir canlı, sevgisini kaybetmeyi hak etmez.

Onların tek isteği biraz merhamet, biraz sıcaklık...

İnsan olmanın en sessiz sınavı bu:

Bakabiliyorken görmezden gelmemek.

Aku mengucap syukur kepada Allahku setiap kali mengingat kamu.,

vulnerability is supposed to be strength. that’s what people say. to be vulnerable isn’t weakness. but i think there’s a gap between people’s words and actual beliefs because vulnerability has left me stranded, isolated, spread thin without legs to stand on. 

perhaps i’m doing it wrong. perhaps people don’t know how to enter into it fully, so they push away anything that feels foreign or new. i’ve plenty of examples of that to support it, both anecdotal and researched. or perhaps it’s me. is it always just me?

people keep asking me, “how are you doing?” and i never have the words to answer that question. half of the time, i’m fine. but also not at all. and the other half of the time, i’m crumbing. but also not at all. i’m caught between optimism and realism, constantly wondering when i’ve run out of time to grieve, when it’s time to move on, when will i notice peoples’ eyes glazing over because they ask but they don’t have space to offer to hear what the answer is.

some people ask to be nosy. some people ask to make sure that we’re still okay, to see if i have room for their joy and my grief. some people ask because they care. some people don’t ask because they care. and i don’t know what i hate the most. radio silence or unintentional insensitivity? comparisons lead to anger, which i have to let out slowly, like i’ve shaken up a soda can and i have to sloooowly let it crack open.