SYMBOL OF FORGETFULNESS

Few -or many- touches, kisses, hugs, tears, hurts on your body, in your heart, inside your soul. Could some of them be buried? At least, could a few of them be erased? And most of all; could all of them be forgotten? Her name was innocence. It was. His name was indiference. It was. In the beginning. For the first time in all times, the array blueness of the innocent water couldn't be stifled by the feverish indifferent fire. It was not only the water who played the game at first hand; but the fire premiered, too, probably for the last time. The water wanted to be deformed so much, so that any other elements would never be capable of understanding the reason for that intense desire. The fire was, for sure, could have the magic to deform such an opposite blessing of the earth, so easily, so desperately, on the other hand, so possibly. Things turn upside down, always, in life. Some stories don't have an end, as they don't have a clear beginning. Playing in the middle, going to and fro, assuming the welcomes and the goodbyes without being able to mesure the reality of them both. Forgetting. There isn't a sharper word than this, not a bitter ability than letting all go. The question is: does stopping to remember mean forgetting? When seeing, touching, talking to the other half is gone, how do we know if they have really lost their muse? Most of all, when you're still alone. Some people will never lose their muses. The inspiration for another love will still come from the gone/existing muses. In the hall of some loves; the walls might have pictures of happy moments of sincere smiles; but the sorrow will always outweigh.

So, the thing is: "In a few years, when I have forgotten you, and other adventures like this one will happen to me from sheer force of habit, I will remember you as the symbol of love's forgetfulness. I will think of this story as the horror of forgetting. " And if I ever meet the symbol of love's forgetfulness; I hope it won't be anyone else than you, only you.

SILENCE

Silence is a lie being told all the time. A lie drunken drop by drop. I talk everyday, without knowing what I speak. I fall asleep everyday, without knowing when I sleep. I smile everyday, without knowing why I jolify. I love everyday, without knowing where I have. I actually drink everyday, without knowing what I drink. Drop by drop. Love, most of all, I die everyday, without anyone seeing it. Do you know when the end of summer comes? It comes when one says good night, by in fact, meaning good night. I have seen the end of summer once upon a time. Please baby, don't make them fool of you when they begin with "once upon a time". It is never a fairy tale, never an innocent child story. So, it is always end of summer, blues rain together with snow. It snows when we play snow ball, just like we did before you left. The snow freezes, turns out to be a layer of ice. The most slippery one. Never nobody to help you to stand up. Still, please remember I never forget us. The thing is, the more you know, the more you are in trouble. I know much,much more than they do, more than you do. You can say that you cry thousands of rivers, but I have been swimming for the shore since... Silence & Drinking. I drink everyday.

GRAY

In the middle of nowhere. At a misty time. Beside nobody. With some uncertainty. Do you ever get this feeling where you stand on a line between feeling too much and feeling nothing at all? When I was a little girl, I used to watch people smiling and used to just smile with them. Now I watch people crying and try to guess a possible reason. I used to watch birds flying wondering the places they would go. Now I watch people leaving wondering if they will ever come back. I used to see my beloved ones blowing birthday candles. Now I just wonder how much more time I will be able to spend with them. At those times, I used to believe in everything I would be told. Now I approach people just so suspiciously. I used to sleep happily with my teddy bears. Now it's the lack of people that cause me to have sleepless nights whose spaces teddy bears remain insufficent to fill. By then, I used to believe in fairytales. Now the reality of life is what makes me surprised. And when I was a little girl, the world used to seem white. Or pink.Now all I see is the pieces of gray. The war between good and bad. The collaboration between lie and truth. The conflict between dreams and realities. The union of black and white. I never know at what point everything has turned upside down. It seems that it is only that little girl whom I can expect to hear an explanation. Forwhy, she is the me, who has never been abandoned, the me who has no doubts about none, the me who has never witnessed the evil of the world, or people. Moreover, since she is the me who has never lied, the me who hasn't left anyone, the me who hasn't made anyone cry, the me who has no harms to someone or to something. No matter where I go, there I am. With my scars, tears, blames, guilts, discomfort... To tell the truth, a part from that little girls has never left. The part that believes in fairytales. Yet, things about them didn't go well down here. Can you prove me that fairytales don't go always bad?

NO TITLE

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".