I used to believe love was enough.
We were raised on that idea, weren’t we?
That love fixes things, softens edges, rewrites endings.
My mother never let me watch films with bad endings.
Or maybe she changed them before they could reach me.
So I grew up thinking everything could be saved
if you just loved hard enough.
Funny, what we spend our energy on.
You say there’s a hole in your heart.
I say there’s one in my soul.
Would I trade being heartless for being soulless?
I don’t know.
And still my motivation to see happy people hasn’t faded.
Not even a little.
I still love beautiful things.
I still tear up at the sight of an old man. Or a homeless.
I still ask myself
is this how I feel like for the rest of my life?
Time can shrink and curl up inside pain,
but nothing can contain pain itself.
Why do you bring me gifts
from every country you go to?
It took me too long to understand it was your way of saying:
“Don’t ask me for what I cannot give.
Here, take this instead. Play with it over there.”
Does seeing the selfishness hidden inside kindness
make me selfish too?
Some people ask for lemons and make lemonade.
I ask for love
so I can build a life out of it.
You cannot build a future
without clearing the past.
But life is not always a Pareto chart.
Not everything is eighty percent
caused by twenty percent.
it’s never everyone.
It’s always a few people
who either make you happy
or break you.
Be gentle with people
who live far away from their mothers.
And even more with those
who no longer have one.
And please
don’t give people hope
if you don’t mean to stay.
I know, I’m drifting again.
From branch to branch, thought to thought.
But maybe everything doesn’t need a category.
Even my blog asks me to choose one
before I publish.
What category is this?
My mind?
My heart?
The sun is out.
And somehow, sunny days feel harder.
I know how to survive gloomy days.
Chaos too.
But sunlight
sunlight reminds me of you.
I miss being with you
on days like this.
Sometimes my pulse rises
like something inside me is trying to escape.
They call it anxiety.
But in those moments
my heart grows so large
I don’t know where to place it.
And you
you say your heart has a hole.
Sometimes I wonder
if we could have completed each other.
How naive I was.
For first time,
I don’t call myself stupid.
Because I am living this life
for the first time.
Just like everyone else..