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“You are so brave and quiet I forget you are suffering.”

— Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms

How is it that 6 months later I find myself in a position I didn't think I'd be when I was packing my bags. You see, when I finally decided to leave It wasn't an impulse It wasn't a rushed decision or a moment of pure indecisiveness. For months I held your hand and it felt colder each time I promise I hated myself for that I battled with myself for so long, trying to convinve myself that this meant nothing, that I was just losing my mind. The matter of fact was however that I was no longer in love. Everyone thought I was mad to end what we had Because you were perfect and I'm starting to think that maybe they were right Maybe I overreacted. What if you were it for me and I just let go and now it's too late? I still think about you when I see cute couples on the street and always think to myself that we were better. When other men come to me, I don't connect with them. I sometimes compare them to you Find traits you had that they don't. They don't pull my chair like you did and they don't laugh at all my jokes. They don't know when I'm being sarcastic and they don't think my obsession with animals is cute. Then again, maybe I engraved in my mind a memory of you with only the highlights of all we shared. Maybe the reason I left is a blur because it helps me feel good that maybe I am capable of functional if I've had it once. Maybe I don't like to remember the times I cried or when I'd open my eyes while we'd kiss because there was nothing there anymore. Maybe it's easier if I don't remember how you didn't listen to me anymore when I talked. You'd only hear. Maybe you got tired of me or maybe I got advantage of the fact that you could stand me for who I was truly. Maybe I liked that you were in love with my naked soul and I wanted to push you until you reached the edge just to see how far I can go, before I can sabotage myself. The thought of you lingers in my mind very often lately and I'm afraid that it's regret for leaving Everytime we talk, I'm so ready to tell you a joke or sent you a video that reminds me of us and how silly we are But then I remember that we are not in present Only in past tense Perhaps when all the distractions are gone Now it's when I realize that it's over. I don't get to drive around town and numb my feelings I don't get to flirt with others I don't get to hang out with my friends until I feel like I don't need a partner at all. The truth is, i'm still a kid but I am in a big city in a cold apartment that has a double bed that I just can't fill. The truth is, the thought of you makes me feel like i'm not alone But maybe it's just the idea of you that I like. Maybe this is when you know it's over. When you are in love with the ghost instead of the actual person.

eylime-etavia

Chemistry: What nonliving shits made of

Biology: How living shit works

Physics: How shit moves

Geology: Shit is a rock

Archeology: Old shit

Well I guess the thought of you still lingers here Still a bitter taste in my mouth That i just can't seem to get rid of you. Scars scraped in your name are still visible on my hands. I lock the door three times but i lock my heart from every one 30 times. The morning after you left I installed an alarm it's password only I know resisting to let anyone else know. I still see the ghost of you in the faces of men who spell out words that sound just like you. I get angry at people I barely know just because they remind me of you in some twisted, sickening way. You don't get to live my life you don't get to see how I check my bag every five minutes you don't get to see the evaluations I make in my head before I leave the house. When you left, I didn't just lock the doors. I locked every spot of blind trust I've had for people. You don't get to see the damage you made you only get to see my instagram pictures and how fucking happy I am. Not once do you know about the other side the one my poems speak about. You don't get what it's like to always run before anything becomes serious because what if i relive the pain? You don't get to see the trauma that you've sawn on my bones. You don't get to see the fear I live with every day. It's been two years and I still fidget when I hear your name. It's been two years and I'm still scared I'll run into you on the street and it made sense when I was still at home But now i'm 5000km away from you and I still look for your face in the crowd oh, so cautiously. It's not rational It's not sane But how can I explain to you what it is like when you don't get to wake up with the trauma you don't get to fight for hours to put the trauma to sleep. You just walk around and when people ask you about me, you tell them that you never understood why I never answered the phone again. You tell them that I gave up on us for some stupid fight. You never saw what made me really broke you still don't get that for years you made me live my life as a ghost only coming to life when you called out for me. You don't realize how emotionally draining you are. I hope she never gets to go through what I did. Because I wouldn't wish that to anybody.

It hurts, change I mean It hurts because it's new and there is no way to prepare for it. Nothing in this world can prepare you for something you have never felt before. It's odd for a long time You come home and it doesn't feel home for sometime It just feels like something borrowed something temporary You think to yourself that this is just a few days and that you'll be back home soon But the sinking feeling hits you like a train This is home and home now is just you. There's no sound of your dad's footsteps on the stairs every morning There's no nagging from your mom to eat or wake up or put on a jacket There's no little brother in the room across from you There is no dog that gets ecstatic every time you come home. When you get home, nobody gets happy to see you Because there is nobody there. I'd be lying if I said that I never craved to live alone and It's not a bad thing. But it's much more lonely than I expected it to be and I don't know how comfortable I am when I am left alone with my own thoughts.

fallformypennotmyheart

Just like a juxtaposition I am two opposites that meet In one body. The staying is comfortable But leaving lures me To be a chameleon soul means to enjoy change even when change is beyond your control. I sit on my bedroom floor for days Face to face with my luggage lists in one hand memories in the other. Perhaps the hardest part of leaving is letting go. People, places, memories Those cannot be packed in a suitcase You cannot pack the scent of your person you can’t frame the last real laugh you’ve heard. I cannot bring myself to say goodbye to the people and the places that I love Simply because I have not yet admitted the change that is creeping faster than I know. In big cities with old buildings sunsets over rivers cafes with freshly grinded coffee apartments I have not laid my head in yet await for me. Yet here I stand, in the middle of a town I’ve come to known very well But somehow I still feel like a stranger on my last days in it. My mind traces back to the memories Every spot of this town has a chapter a paragraph a sentence a word out of me; Perhaps I’ll never truly be gone If the town has roots deeply buried within me. When I close my eyes I see the kaleidoscope of people that have shaped me Those who broke me and those who’ve held me. The land I learned how to fly a kite with my father The street my mother took me to drive her car for the very first time. The beach that I built sandcastles with my brother The cafes I spent my hours studying with my classmates The corner I’ve had my first kiss The routes me and my friends drove around at 2 am The cliff my insomnia drove me to see the sunrise. Where your body is and where your heart is don’t have to be the same place. Perhaps that’s what scares me the most. I was hoping to leave it all behind But for better or for worse, This town is part of me. I cannot escape it and maybe a part of me doesn’t want to.

The leaving by Helen Xinari (via fallformypennotmyheart)

stoicremains-deactivated2017102

I never got to say goodbye to you. Although I think our eyes whispered it to each other long before we knew. I never got to tell you that although you reminded me a kind of pain I thought I had forgotten You also gave life to a kind of thrill I hadn't fell in a long time. When I laughed with you I laughed with my heart and although your stay in my life was rather short, compared to what I would have liked it to be; You still nourished the roots in my soul and once again I grew closer to the woman I aspire to be. Bent and broken but an evolution of my previous self. I never got to say thank you for making me laugh when all I wanted to do was cry. I never got to hug you as tightly as I wanted. I never got to see your reaction in the thought of me leaving. We just disappeared from each other and I never told you how much it killed me when you sat opposite of me months later with your friend and all the time he was talking, trying to impress me the only thing I could do was evaporate into your eyes. The same eyes that made me bent and break my own rules. It had been so many months and yet still the familiarity between us was still the oxygen we both breathed. It killed me because I know we could have saved it because after all this time the connection was still there. I never got to tell you that I wanted to stay longer when you paused and stared at me like you wanted to whisper 'stay' I never told you that I felt the same too. I never told you that no matter where I go I'll always have a window open for you.

fallformypennotmyheart

Just like a juxtaposition I am two opposites that meet In one body. The staying is comfortable But leaving lures me To be a chameleon soul means to enjoy change even when change is beyond your control. I sit on my bedroom floor for days Face to face with my luggage lists in one hand memories in the other. Perhaps the hardest part of leaving is letting go. People, places, memories Those cannot be packed in a suitcase You cannot pack the scent of your person you can’t frame the last real laugh you’ve heard. I cannot bring myself to say goodbye to the people and the places that I love Simply because I have not yet admitted the change that is creeping faster than I know. In big cities with old buildings sunsets over rivers cafes with freshly grinded coffee apartments I have not laid my head in yet await for me. Yet here I stand, in the middle of a town I’ve come to known very well But somehow I still feel like a stranger on my last days in it. My mind traces back to the memories Every spot of this town has a chapter a paragraph a sentence a word out of me; Perhaps I’ll never truly be gone If the town has roots deeply buried within me. When I close my eyes I see the kaleidoscope of people that have shaped me Those who broke me and those who’ve held me. The land I learned how to fly a kite with my father The street my mother took me to drive her car for the very first time. The beach that I built sandcastles with my brother The cafes I spent my hours studying with my classmates The corner I’ve had my first kiss The routes me and my friends drove around at 2 am The cliff my insomnia drove me to see the sunrise. Where your body is and where your heart is don’t have to be the same place. Perhaps that’s what scares me the most. I was hoping to leave it all behind But for better or for worse, This town is part of me. I cannot escape it and maybe a part of me doesn’t want to.

The leaving by Helen Xinari (via fallformypennotmyheart)

#poetry #writing #prose #writer #poet #art #artist

fallformypennotmyheart

Just like a juxtaposition I am two opposites that meet In one body. The staying is comfortable But leaving lures me To be a chameleon soul means to enjoy change even when change is beyond your control. I sit on my bedroom floor for days Face to face with my luggage lists in one hand memories in the other. Perhaps the hardest part of leaving is letting go. People, places, memories Those cannot be packed in a suitcase You cannot pack the scent of your person you can’t frame the last real laugh you’ve heard. I cannot bring myself to say goodbye to the people and the places that I love Simply because I have not yet admitted the change that is creeping faster than I know. In big cities with old buildings sunsets over rivers cafes with freshly grinded coffee apartments I have not laid my head in yet await for me. Yet here I stand, in the middle of a town I’ve come to known very well But somehow I still feel like a stranger on my last days in it. My mind traces back to the memories Every spot of this town has a chapter a paragraph a sentence a word out of me; Perhaps I’ll never truly be gone If the town has roots deeply buried within me. When I close my eyes I see the kaleidoscope of people that have shaped me Those who broke me and those who’ve held me. The land I learned how to fly a kite with my father The street my mother took me to drive her car for the very first time. The beach that I built sandcastles with my brother The cafes I spent my hours studying with my classmates The corner I’ve had my first kiss The routes me and my friends drove around at 2 am The cliff my insomnia drove me to see the sunrise. Where your body is and where your heart is don’t have to be the same place. Perhaps that’s what scares me the most. I was hoping to leave it all behind But for better or for worse, This town is part of me. I cannot escape it and maybe a part of me doesn’t want to.

The leaving by Helen Xinari (via fallformypennotmyheart)

Just like a juxtaposition I am two opposites that meet In one body. The staying is comfortable But leaving lures me To be a chameleon soul means to enjoy change even when change is beyond your control. I sit on my bedroom floor for days Face to face with my luggage lists in one hand memories in the other. Perhaps the hardest part of leaving is letting go. People, places, memories Those cannot be packed in a suitcase You cannot pack the scent of your person you can't frame the last real laugh you've heard. I cannot bring myself to say goodbye to the people and the places that I love Simply because I have not yet admitted the change that is creeping faster than I know. In big cities with old buildings sunsets over rivers cafes with freshly grinded coffee apartments I have not laid my head in yet await for me. Yet here I stand, in the middle of a town I've come to known very well But somehow I still feel like a stranger on my last days in it. My mind traces back to the memories Every spot of this town has a chapter a paragraph a sentence a word out of me; Perhaps I'll never truly be gone If the town has roots deeply buried within me. When I close my eyes I see the kaleidoscope of people that have shaped me Those who broke me and those who've held me. The land I learned how to fly a kite with my father The street my mother took me to drive her car for the very first time. The beach that I built sandcastles with my brother The cafes I spent my hours studying with my classmates The corner I've had my first kiss The routes me and my friends drove around at 2 am The cliff my insomnia drove me to see the sunrise. Where your body is and where your heart is don't have to be the same place. Perhaps that's what scares me the most. I was hoping to leave it all behind But for better or for worse, This town is part of me. I cannot escape it and maybe a part of me doesn't want to.

The leaving by Helen Xinari

#poetry #leaving #memories #town #city #travel #prose #literature #poem #free verse #writer #writing #growing up

I never feared to dream big I was always a wide eyed girl with crazy ideas and a fantasy to paint in words all of my emotions. The limit to me has never been visible I've never been a person to be contempt I am either happy or sad I either love or hate and anything in the middle simply lacks my honest interest. When I was younger I'd look up at the sky and feel comfort because the stars bred to me a kind of hope that other people around me never did. Looking back I must have drove my parents mad A typical daughter is something they never had but at least, I am sure that they have never been bored. When all other girls wanted pink I danced in the ocean's ombre blue When they bought me dolls I paired them with my pokemon and created my own games. My friends faked smiles and sacrificed their likes for boys that weren't worth a penny But from as long as I can remember my expectations have been high and I have never settled for anyone. The first time I gave a boy my heart I had known him for 3 years in he was my best friend and we fell in love over knowing each other's naked souls. Although that boy is no longer a part of me although he tore my heart apart there was nothing typical about our story. The first time someone asked me what I wanted to be I was three and was dancing around so I screamed "I wanna be a better singer than Madonna". Years later, with more wisdom in my mind I heard the art of medicine calling my name. When people ask me to visualize my future It's never a husband and a family. If those come along, that would be nice But when I close my eyes and see the future all I can see is people in need Me having the ability to help them There is knowledge to be known Bodies to examine Souls to comfort When all my friends applied to the same universities I applied to a different country Because I wanted the best university for me. When my friends are sad, they listen to sad songs and eat ice cream. When I am sad, I pour my soul on paper When I am happy I spread love There is nothing typical or ordinary about me When I don't like something, I simply don't. You see, for years I thought that being different was a curse But there is nothing curseful about being blessed to make a difference.

fallformypennotmyheart

I wanted to write a poem about my last year of high school About the last year before uni begun I want to write a poem for my friends who we drove around at 2 am on weekend nights With messy buns and singing along to songs from 2000. To my friends who bought McDonalds chicken nuggets at 1 am and I got fries ‘cause I’m a vegetarian and I want to say thank you to my friends who always understood and never criticised. I want to write a poem for the endless studying for losing myself in osmosis and Organic Chemistry for feeling fascinated with schizophrenia in psych class and my teacher who never stopped challenging me. Me and my friends drove past your house at least a dozen times. This part of the poem is for you and your emerald eyes and beautiful ignorance of how other people felt for you. I want to write a poem about how we shyly became close friends on jokes about House MD and history. I want to thank you for getting me addicted to coffee although I stopped drinking it by the time you stopped talking to me because it worsened my anxiety or maybe that was you. I want to write a poem for the year in my life that although I thought I had figured it out before it begun I still lost friends I thought cared for me but soon I found out that people carry their own insecurities for so long it becomes a personality trait and how easy you can mean nothing when they have a boyfriend or someone who remotely feeds those insecurities. I begun 7th form not knowing where I am going to study all my friends got offers and had to decide which universities to choose and all I got was a pocket full of rejections with no explanation. This poem is about the year I realized I wanted medicine more than anything else the year I became unattainable to anything less than what I wanted. I want to write a poem of how I lost myself in a relationship that no longer made me happy and how lucky I was to have a support system where after dance rehearsals my friend sat with me behind the theatre and he sat and listened to everything until my mind was empty enough to figure it out. I want to write a poem about the criticism women receive when they are the one leaving but I also want to thank you for always understanding and always caring enough to know that I was right to end what we created. I want to write a poem about the teachers that I came closer to and could talk about my worries. The nights I didn’t sleep because although I was contempt my anxiety worsened this year so I want to say thank you to my mom who was there to hold me. The year of too many events and too little time Of winged eye liners and shy flirting of saying hello to people you never did before of growing up without realizing it. My last week of high school I got accepted into med school in another country away from my friends So the last week of high school I promised myself to enjoy my last summer with them As every moment I anticipated my new journey. One last thing; The last year of high school I realized that life passes by so fast moments are gone before you know it Don’t miss them Don’t stop putting yourself in everything you do Learn to let go when you must.

Ode to 7th Form (via fallformypennotmyheart)

I wanted to write a poem about my last year of high school About the last year before uni begun I want to write a poem for my friends who we drove around at 2 am on weekend nights With messy buns and singing along to songs from 2000. To my friends who bought McDonalds chicken nuggets at 1 am and I got fries 'cause I'm a vegetarian and I want to say thank you to my friends who always understood and never criticised. I want to write a poem for the endless studying for losing myself in osmosis and Organic Chemistry for feeling fascinated with schizophrenia in psych class and my teacher who never stopped challenging me. Me and my friends drove past your house at least a dozen times. This part of the poem is for you and your emerald eyes and beautiful ignorance of how other people felt for you. I want to write a poem about how we shyly became close friends on jokes about House MD and history. I want to thank you for getting me addicted to coffee although I stopped drinking it by the time you stopped talking to me because it worsened my anxiety or maybe that was you. I want to write a poem for the year in my life that although I thought I had figured it out before it begun I still lost friends I thought cared for me but soon I found out that people carry their own insecurities for so long it becomes a personality trait and how easy you can mean nothing when they have a boyfriend or someone who remotely feeds those insecurities. I begun 7th form not knowing where I am going to study all my friends got offers and had to decide which universities to choose and all I got was a pocket full of rejections with no explanation. This poem is about the year I realized I wanted medicine more than anything else the year I became unattainable to anything less than what I wanted. I want to write a poem of how I lost myself in a relationship that no longer made me happy and how lucky I was to have a support system where after dance rehearsals my friend sat with me behind the theatre and he sat and listened to everything until my mind was empty enough to figure it out. I want to write a poem about the criticism women receive when they are the one leaving but I also want to thank you for always understanding and always caring enough to know that I was right to end what we created. I want to write a poem about the teachers that I came closer to and could talk about my worries. The nights I didn't sleep because although I was contempt my anxiety worsened this year so I want to say thank you to my mom who was there to hold me. The year of too many events and too little time Of winged eye liners and shy flirting of saying hello to people you never did before of growing up without realizing it. My last week of high school I got accepted into med school in another country away from my friends So the last week of high school I promised myself to enjoy my last summer with them As every moment I anticipated my new journey. One last thing; The last year of high school I realized that life passes by so fast moments are gone before you know it Don't miss them Don't stop putting yourself in everything you do Learn to let go when you must.

Ode to 7th Form

jameschororos

awwdorables

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