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Show & Tell
AnasAbdin
YOU ARE THE REASON

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Today's Document
will byers stan first human second
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@leonorawrites
Poems & Words
wake up call.
There is a reason why skin is the first line
of defense against a disease.
When a virus finds its way inside,
it can crawl almost anywhere
from your pipe-tight arteries
to your significantly visible veins,
and maybe even cross through
a lucky little pathway leading
to your silly organs you might as
well have sold in Amazon or eBay.
It can travel the long route
to your brain and unravel each
secret until you wish for it to
break down on its own walls.
It can push through all
the blood and plant a home
in every corner of you heart.
Where you expected roots
will be dozens of holes,
and I tell you,
you will feel every pang of pain,
but you won’t have anything to clutch
on to anymore when you feel it,
because the virus has managed
to pull off your heart that
you will wish you tore off on your own.
It can follow the flow of gravity,
all the way down to your leg,
right leg, left leg, it does not matter,
it won’t be of use anymore.
It will make it go numb
and turn your own limb against you.
Never let a virus get under your skin.
It should be easier this time.
This is a new era, no longer are
microscopes necessary to identify one:
a virus is a walking, talking, breathing human.
Do not let them get under your skin.
Brush it all off.
Their words.Their thoughts.
That’s right.
Pat them all away.
You’re wearing a suit and
it’s too expensive for them
to even dare to touch.
They’re just virus,
the only way for them to
damage you is if you
let them.
Hi. Yesterday I cried myself to sleep. Today, I feel like I’ll be doing it again for the same reason over the same person. Tell me. Is this kind of pain still worth it? As much as I would like to treasure the sweetness of our firsts, it still terrifies me to think about the last time I will get to see your smile as I stare into your eyes, or hear your random, and sometimes dramatic, stories about how your day went, or hold your hand as we watch how a certain fictional character shifted from this to that.
Because believe me, the thought of it keeps me up at night. Over and over again.
It haunts me to imagine waking up one day with nothing to embrace but the traces you have left. It scares me a lot of how transient people can be in our lives that we will never know if this is going to be the last time of the lifetime that we always thought we would have. It scares me to reach the end of this story without the person I wanted to end up with.
I hope it hurts to imagine being enclosed in a cacophony of unsaid goodbyes and unfought love; before we hear the fading footsteps carrying all the promises we always thought we would fulfill, leaving imprints of every piece of you that I once held. I hope it hurts to think that every day may be the last time that we can have each other so you will hug me a little tighter, kiss me a little longer and maybe love me even better.
I hope our dead end never comes, but if it does, I hope it kills you to realize that you have lost me forever—because it never failed to hurt me, too.
when they said that i come back here only because i am either sad or empty, i couldn’t agree more. reading this blog i created last august disheartens me once more. and yed, the time has come.
Hi. Yesterday I cried myself to sleep. Today, I feel like I’ll be doing it again for the same reason over the same person. Tell me. Is this kind of pain still worth it? As much as I would like to treasure the sweetness of our firsts, it still terrifies me to think about the last time I will get to see your smile as I stare into your eyes, or hear your random, and sometimes dramatic, stories about how your day went, or hold your hand as we watch how a certain fictional character shifted from this to that.
Because believe me, the thought of it keeps me up at night. Over and over again.
It haunts me to imagine waking up one day with nothing to embrace but the traces you have left. It scares me a lot of how transient people can be in our lives that we will never know if this is going to be the last time of the lifetime that we always thought we would have. It scares me to reach the end of this story without the person I wanted to end up with.
I hope it hurts to imagine being enclosed in a cacophony of unsaid goodbyes and unfought love; before we hear the fading footsteps carrying all the promises we always thought we would fulfill, leaving imprints of every piece of you that I once held. I hope it hurts to think that every day may be the last time that we can have each other so you will hug me a little tighter, kiss me a little longer and maybe love me even better.
I hope our dead end never comes, but if it does, I hope it kills you to realize that you have lost me forever—because it never failed to hurt me, too.
"You’ll regret this," she said, "Boys like to think they’re relieved after a break up, but this will hit you so hard in the gut when you’re going to beg me and I would be doing what you are doing to me now."
He turned his back to me, and continued north. The spaces between us felt even more overwhelming with every step. A storm has sprung in the light of summer and all the clouds were above me.
"I swear," Have I become desperate? "You will regre—"
"I know." He looked back and locked his dead-pan eyes to me. "I know I will. But I have to do this; you’re not you and I need me to be another me to be with you again. I know, okay, don't make this any harder."
"Don’t try to make this about me." My strength has left my voice, every syllable either a croak, or an earthquake inside my vocals.
"It’s not. It’s about us. It’s about how every night before this, and even probably after, I always think about wanting to leave you." His voice has become louder. Anger? Frustration? Sadness? Funny how after almost six years, I still didn’t know him. Or maybe that’s what Iiked about him. I didn’t know myself either. “It’s about how I’m being unfair when I say I love you, and I don’t mean it. It’s about how this relationship isn’t healthy anymore. It’s dead weight. And honey, I’m no soldier. Most especially so, I’m no weightlifter. I don’t want to have to lift you from your problems anymore."
"Well, ha ha , the joke’s on me.” I mocked a hand salute, brushing a tear off along the way. He has never seen me crying. I was not going to let him know he’s worth a rare tear. “How brave of you to just leave the problem around. Mission accomplished, colonel.”
"But the thing is, the only person I can ever leave you for is the person you used to be." He raised his arms above him in frustration. "Heck, I'd leave you right here, right now for her. The old her."
I bit my lip. Here comes the tears.
"But right now, she's not her. That doesn't mean I'm going to stop. I’ll be waiting ‘til I find a new me. Or ‘til you find the old you. Either way, we can’t do this together." He put his pinky up in the air. An imaginary pinky promise. He was the only man who was ever man enough to do pinky promises, no matter how gay it seemed. "Pinky promise. No one but you. Still."
7
I have never believed in “love at first chat” until I met you. I love you for so many reasons including reasons that are still unknown to me. I love your eyes. I love the way you talk, the way you laugh, the way you look. I love how you manage to say that you care, yet tease me over and over again. I love how you are capable of encouraging and ignoring me at the same time. You see, I can give you infinite reasons but it can never be as grand as what my heart madly and deeply feels for you. I love you—with all the whys and hows that are still waiting to unfold. And I know I love you because it hurts. It hurts to miss you every second that we’re not talking and seeing each other. It hurts to be your friend because deep inside, I want to be more than that. It hurts to know that I came into your life too early when both of us are still unready. But I keep loving you anyway. Because just to spend another midnight talking to you is worth all the pain. Maybe in another time, when everything is in its place, you and I can meet again. But for now, I am just happy that at least I got to even know you and secretly love you. And even if you dont talk to me again, I will still love you in ways I have never loved anyone else.
P.S. This is fictional.
We talked just once and i think that you're a good person, fun to be with and also i like your sprakling eyes. :)) Go and chase happiness that your heart is looking for, goodluck and keep safe!
Please introduce yourself to me. You deserve a big hug for appreciating the simple things about me that I myself can’t even do for my own. I will be waiting for your response. May God bless you and your beautiful soul. I am, indeed, grateful.
6
You like me, then you don't. You will give your world, until you won't. You’re a moving vehicle, and anything that holds on to something in motion will only get dragged against the floor until their limbs fall off and they are only left with abrasions. “Don't fall in love with me”, you said. I know you are a moving vehicle. But I still fell. No matter what I say, I will never be your destination. I was just your stopover.
P.S. This is fictional.
5
Who was I before?
I do not remember.
Nor do I want to remember a time without you.
Where was I before?
I do not remember.
I just knew,
when I found you,
I found the missing piece of myself too.
P.S. This is fictional.
4
It is so easy for me to like you that it frightens me.
I’ve never been good at anything.
But I’ve never wanted anything so much as as I want to talk to you every waking minute.
And every night while I sleep.
It frightens me to admit that you were right.
People can like someone they just met online.
The question has ceased to be, “How do I like you?”
And has become, “How do I ever stop?”
P.S. This is fictional.
3
Time is, indeed, a fickle thing. We can be with someone for years and never know what real love is and fall truly and madly in love after days spent with someone who literally redefines what it means to be happy. On the first second, my heart mumbled the first letter of your name. And the second letter on the second second. But for the third letter, it wasn’t a simple mumble anymore. It has become a rumble. My heart was in chaos. As my heartbeat reached the third second, I knew it was beating your name. I knew it was love.
You see, love doesn’t always fit into a timeframe. You are the living proof.
P.S. This is fictional.
2
You are the color of every drop. The ink that let me write our memories inside my heart as I try to keep all of it alive. You are the the color of every drop. The tears that let me water the flowers of hope as I try to let myself grow in your presence. You are the color of every drop. The blood that let me feel the pain as I try to fix the heart that you tore when it wanted you enclosed inside.
You are the color of love.
But also the color of pain.
P.S. This is fictional.
1
Isn’t it ironic,
how your name speaks the color red,
but makes me feel blue?
P.S. This is fictional.
There is a difference between drowning and sinking. Both refer to being immersed in a body of liquid. But drowning means you’re rejected. Drowning means you and the liquid are at odds— you’re in the liquid but you’re not of the liquid; you are not one with the liquid. You cannot breathe, you cannot hear anything but your own screams and your own terror. You cannot see anything other than darkness.
But sinking is different. Sinking means you’re accepted. Sinking means you and the liquid have come to an agreement— you’re in the liquid and you’re of the liquid; you are one with the liquid. You can breathe, you can hear everything along with soulbeats and the elusive love. You can see everything cloaked in majestic light.
Will you let yourself drown or sink? It’s up to you.
perhaps
we were made
for this moment
to walk
through blazing fire
and come forth
as gold
—not mine