neden her şey bu kadar sıkıcı? neden hep üzülüyorum ? neden herkes gibi mutlu bir şekilde gülemiyorum?
neden kendime bu soruları soruyorum? gerçekten bilmiyorum.
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neden her şey bu kadar sıkıcı? neden hep üzülüyorum ? neden herkes gibi mutlu bir şekilde gülemiyorum?
neden kendime bu soruları soruyorum? gerçekten bilmiyorum.
seni sevmekten kendimi alıkoyuyorum... gerçek olamayacak kadar iyisin... sık sık düşünürüm ve üzülürüm, neden benimle olmak zorundasın? neden zamanını boşa harcıyorsun? lütfen gitme, ama asla bana aşık olma...
Bir.. İki.. Dört.. daha kaç fincan kahve içmeliyim? kendimi durduramadığımda yine kötü olduğunu biliyorum. ama o acı tat sahip olduğum tek şey.
Bana göre birinin size zaman ayırması, ilgilenmesi, dinlemesi ve gülümsetmesi en güzel hediyedir. çünkü maddi şeyler gelir ve gider. ama size harcadığı zaman asla unutulmaz.
Keşke seslerini azaltabilseydim. daha ne kadar bağırmaları gerekir? ne kadar süreliğine? kulaklarım kaşınıyor, sağır edici..
how can i feel so lost when ive never found myself?
how can it be this overwhelming when im barely doing anything?
My 13 year old cousin came back from a date with her boyfriend and said, "I can't wait to grow up and spend sunday afternoons with him." At first, I wanted to laugh (after all they're just 13), but I remember being 13 and having the world in my hands. I remember getting excited to talk to someone about my dreams and wishes, and how happy these daydreams and fantasies made me. There's this innocence you can only have at 13 and the world rises and falls and crashes and burns every year... until you do not think about quiet sunday afternoons.
So I asked her about the date and heard her giggle about bubblegum flavored ice cream, and how much she loves this little life. I think she makes me love it too.
-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire
Bi duş alayım kendime geleyim, bi kahve yapıyım kendime geleyim, bi yürüyüşe çıkayım kendime geleyim bir şeyler artık beni kendime getirebilir mi
bir şeyler artık beni kendime getirebilir mi
24.O4.22
scary, isn't it?
the way our minds shape us, and vice-versa.
but do we really have the power to change our thoughts? isn't the world around us who decides that?
i keep on wondering what would it be if i actually changed how i think and see myself. how would it be if i had the power to escape and set myself free? it feels like the closer i think i am to finding freedom, the deeper i drown in an ocean of sorrow and shame.
i wish i can close my eyes and escape. i wish i could strip my own body off and just run and run and run into whatever my soul is drawn to.
i used to love writing but now even the worlds fail me. the older i get the more i hate the details of being me. don't get me wrong, im not sad but not happy either. i feel something in between that i can't even find the words to describe.
i really wish i could run, run far away.