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I am not always able to write at the times I force myself to write. When I do, it comes out naturally, the words just get poured by themselves. My fingers get out the control of my brain. My heart manages them, my soul makes the words come alive.
Just like this moment.
So many things going on in me, all over me. Even, I might not be able to think clearly, maybe... But you see? Still, the words can make themselves seen on the screen, just in front of me.
Right now, I can write about the people who hurt me, I can write about the ones whose hearts I broke, I can write about my dissapointments, I can write about my dreams. But, no; all would seem such nonsense and meaningless titles. In fact, this writing has no title. Titles are just the display pictures of our lives, have you ever thought about it? A mother, a father, a sister, a brother, a friend, a lover... All these names (not those people!) are only the display pictures of our life sphere. There is more than that. Family bounds are kept alive by being loyal, honest and connected to each other with love, not with the word family. Friends? A few of them can be special enough to be like your family., if they are the ones whom you can open your heart. Lover? If there is really love between 2 people, there is no even need "the lover title". Because the ones who have that title, they might become nothing about love. For, a real lover composes of a real love. "What's real love?". A strong, unconditional tie. It's seeing universe much bigger than it is. It's feeling their pain deep inside your heart, too. It's not being able to breathe when they are not fine. Something like this... Maybe something you thought you had, or something I thought I had. Maybe for once, maybe for a few times more...
So what was I writing about? The titles... The moment I understood that how titles made me weak, I have started to feel stronger for it has made me desire something deeper, something real, something powerful. Do you know where it takes me? It takes me to my hopes. Can you guess how hopes furnish services as medicines? Believe me, hopes save lives. To survive, to have hopes, you have to have faith. Having faith in something... in God, in life, in love, in your dreams., whatever it is... As long as you have faith in life, you will always know that it is not wrong at all when elders say that "this, too, shall pass". One more thing is that; as long as you love yourself, as long as you are the way you are, you will, one day, come across what you deserve.
Now, in my life, there are a few dush rooms which have no tittle at all. And the ones who have caused this... Their titles were just fake. Yet, I know that I am not gonna lose who I am, I am not gonna waste my hopes. Pains are to be got over and happinesses are to be smiled at. Tell yourself that "this, too, shall pass". Because I do, even believing in it from the bottom of my heart.

I had told his story before. Still, is there anyone who thinks that Le Petit Prince is a story which should be read by children while it needs to be read by men? For, How many men are responsible for their women? How many of them mean forever when they whisper forever? How many of men believe, really really believe that their women are peerless. Le Petit Prince did... Because one day, after he lets go her rose, he sees hundres of roses which look like just like her old rose. Yet, he realises that his rose was the only one, the matchless one and the unique one. Therefore, he turns to those hundreds of roses, to tell them: "You're lovely, but you're empty," he went on. "One couldn't die for you. Of course an ordinary passerby would think my rose looked just like you. But my rose, all on her own, is more important than you altogether, since she's the one I've watered. Since she's the one I put under glass. Since she's the one I sheltered behind a screen. Since she's the one for whom I killed the caterpillars.Since's she the one I listened to when she complained, or when she boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing at all. Since she's my rose."

Yes, the love of le petit prince was real for he fights for his rose, while not many men do this nowadays. Yet, life should never be about generalizing. Because...

"Someone out there is meant to be the love of your life, your best friend, your soulmate, the one you can tell your dreams to. He'll smile at you when you tell him, but he'll never laugh at your heart. He'll brush the hair out of your eyes and send you flowers when you least expect it. He'll call you to say goodnight before you get into bed or just because he is thinking about you. He'll be bursting to talk to you each morning just to hear the sound of your voice. He'll look into your eyes and tell you that you are the most beautiful girl he has ever seen and for the first time in your life ... you'll have to believe it."

Denial. It is what is everyone has in common. For it would may be the biggest denial to deny the presence of the denial in our actions, words, feelings...

I am not sitting down in a single table, there are many images in my pupils. Lots of smiles, lots of faces, lots of eyes. I am not wearing headphones, there are many voices in my ears. Lots of words, lots of sounds, lots of songs. I am not mummified, there are many feelings on my skin. Lots of touches, lots of kisses, lots of hugs. And, I am not hiding my heart in a coffer, neither. Yet, it is cold. Those smiles, looks, voices, touches of whose feelings I don't feel in my heart; but all, the lot, each have their own seats in the hall of my life. So, after all, why do I consider myself as an honest one? Why do I seem like a big defender of reliability, ,if I can live with what I don't feel, if I can live with at what I can't smile? And most of all, why... if I can live with the lies I tell to myself? Esepcially, when I know that "the worst lies are the lies we tell ourselves. We live in a denial of what we do, even what we think. We do this because we are afraid."

A BATTLE TO SAY "ADIEU"...

Life is all about learning. Because life is all about growing.

Life is all about dreaming. Then, life is all about failing.

Life is all about missing. And life is all about forgetting.

Most of all, life is all about loving.

Yet, life is also all about ending.

Time passes leaving scars, over which we sometimes can't get till the end, gifting memories, at which we smile as we remember from time to time. Time passes flying. We knew all, I guess. But wait! This fligt is not always going forward?

One morning, you wake up, you look at where you are, you think of the people in your life. You reminisce the past and realise how much it changed, how time flies in such a fast speed. And then, a dolorous moment. You are stucked. Some things still exist, but they don't go forward, contrary to the time. Paused. Cold. Changed. And then, an awakening moment. You start to find out if things are changed or they are the way they have always been but you are just being aware of it now. Awareness. It is maybe the only way to feel alive. Yet it sometimes chaps, hurts, breaks.

Try, fight, grapple, bear... Get aware it was only your battle, alone. You have been striving actually all alone. Maybe it has been all about a battle. A battle to say "adieu".

LOVE IS TO TAME AND TO BE TAMED

"It's lonely when you're among people, too." said the snake to the little prince. It might sound stupid or crazy, but maybe the little prince really exists, maybe for real, maybe only in some souls whose most of them belong to the ones of children and that probably becomes the reason why it's loney among people. There are some coffers of which a few wil never die down as the time goes by, things that exist in the eyes of a child. Sincerety, blamlessness, fairness, and the most of all, ability to love.

- Love is to tame and to be tamed- as the way of I take love. And as the fox cried to the little prince, it said "You risk tears if you let yourself be tamed". So how come people believe in the fact that crying when there are people around is something to be ashamed of? Are tears cursors of impurity? Is love something that makes us feel small? Why is everyone so far away from love when they think they are close to it? Why do they take love as an adventure of a few days? "Men have forgotten this truth" said the fox. "But you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed." This fow makes me wonder how many of us fee responsible for who we love? Not all, anymore, takes forever as forever when they say -forever-.

And another question is: How come things are so -in appearance-? "It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye" gave the fox a big secret to the little prince by advising this. Yet, people judge with appearance, they now judge with what the eyes see. None really relies on their heart to make the right judgement. Moreover, judging people is ike the most popular activity of all times, none judges themselves. None has ever said it'd be easy, it is the hardest thing that a person can get through. Yes, "That is the hardest thing of all. It is much harder to judger yoursef than to judge others. If you succeed in judging yoursef, it's because you're truly a wiseman." For what we would be living, if it was that simple to do the right. For some maybe it has been easy to lose some of the values. But, isn't anyone aware of that the life they live without those values is faker than all?

Meanwhile, who said "le petit prince" is a story that children should read? How many men are responsible for their women? How many of the men mean forever when they whisper forever? How many men believe that their women are the peerless? The little prince did... Because...

....the little prince sees hundreds of roses which looks just like the rose he had on his planet. He was dissapointed for he had thought that his rose was the only one in the whole universe, for he had believed that she was unique. Yet, after a while, he understood that his dissapointment was for nothing at all, because his rose was still his rose, the only one, still matchless. Thereof, he turned to face those hundreds of roses, to tell them: "You're lovely, but you're empty", he went on. "One couldn't die for you. Of course an ordinary passenger woud think my rose looked just ike you. But my rose, all on her own, is more important than you altogether, since she's the one I've watered. Since she's the one I put under glass. Since she's the one I sheltered behind a screen. Since she's the one for whom I killed caterpillars. Since she's the one I listened to when she complained, or when she boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing at all. Since she's my rose"

THE EXISTANCE OF THE SUN

Deep inside, somewhere in the past... Inside the old boxes where the dark memoris are all put not to open them up again. Or right here, at the present. At the most dominant, the most breezy moment of your life. There is something, I know. Something gloomy. Like a very deep bruise. Yet, no, there is nothing like a scar. The bruise has gone so down that , in sight the skin is so soft, sleek and new. As if that bruise doesn't exist at all. However, within it gives pain with every blue song, every little memory of "before" and with every desparation of the life. It just doesn't take another bruise. It just doesn't let a stronger one in. Even at the happiest moments, it catches the eyes at where they gaze, shows its pain at a stroke. Hide the tears! for nobody to see.

Hold them to hide from yourself too! But what difference does it make? Don't the tears pour inside? Doesn't the chagrin of the past go down the heart, instead of the eyes? They do. I know.

But nobody, ask me nothing. Don't touch nor interrupt. They are sometimes tears of sanctity. Tears poured by being aware of the existance of the love that you will never find again. And... Don't they ever leave? Nobody but nobody can wipe them, the heart? Anyways, who wants them to leave? Let them stay to remind of that existance. Nobody, never wipe them away. Please. Don't erase whats makes me me , don't erase the one I love(d). You also may be leaving afterwards...

Let me stay as the way I am. Don't try to show me the light just because of I don't have the sun in my life. Already, I love life. Not because of I see the rainbow, but because of I had seen the sun.

BE DONE

It's a moment when you said "be done" to every memory, every heart, every soul, every tear. To everything. And to everybody. Patience is something that comes up like a sun. It helps. Indeed, it makes you see things colorful and it lets life seem happy, hopeful. It makes people seem glossy. It is like a miracle that you have been blessed to have, they say. Maybe it doesn't. Who knows... Have you ever thought how bad it can turn out to be. For, the coming rain right after the sun. In fact it can rain cats and dogs. So heavily, with the though flashes with noisy thunders. That's where the limit of patience is about to be exhausted. When you feel tired, sick and worried. When you start to ask yourself for why you have been trying so hard. When you begin to think to where all you have been doing is going to take you. When you question that if you are taking back for all the things you have been doing. Just like how the rain let you think. It always has this spleenful effect, doesn't it? Making you walk around with the sad, blue clouds in your head. Or with the blue, sadly angry tears on your head in the case of having the flashes and the thunders. It can be where you say "enough". To everything.... Unless there is no rainbow right after the rain. You get convinced that "all worths". Someone might make you get convinced. That speacial one. Either the memories convince you. Admittedly, they are much powerful than they seem. Or you. You sell yourself on. Provided that you are too connected to what makes you say "enough". Provided that you are too optimistic. Too optimistic that something can let you see the rainbow. And the rainbows are debonair! They are, indeed, unique. So gorgeous with their shape and for they are hued, of course. Well, that's when you get back to the beginning. Starting to see everything colorful, hopeful, serene. But, haven't you ever heard that rainbows show themselves not for long?For each human being in the life, there is a moment where you lose your shine and start to sleep with the rain drops. Rain drops, afterwards, might let you see the rainbow. But it all ends. None of us is that patient to bear something that kills our soul. It all comes to an end. For the beginnings with the ones who will hide the rain for us.