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[nachakka]

the heartbroken me

Before, the expression having a broken heart seemed so far away from what I believed I could feel, almost impossible to imagine.

And yet, little by little, the denial I had taken shelter in began to consume me without me even realizing it.

Yeah, I had a dream, a nightmare.

The one where I realized I was in love with him, for I don’t even know how long.

And realizing it filled me with such joy at first: admitting it to myself, being honest about my feelings, imagining us holding hands, imagining what we could have been.

The funniest thing is that sometimes, the worst nightmares contain the most beautiful dreams.

I had almost forgotten that I was in a nightmare, but I quickly remembered when I lost my heart, seeing him fall in love with her.

And a part of me died into the nightmare and in reality.

And the hardest part wasn’t the nightmare, but waking up.

Knowing that everything we could have been was nothing but an illusion. Imagining that the love I had for him was something he felt for someone else.

And that was the pain I had pushed away for so long.

I wonder how love can be the most beautiful word and the most painful one.

And yet, the heartbroken me keeps hoping.

When I figured out it was unrequited love, all I wanted was to forget about him, to run away from pain.

But how can I unlove someone who showed me what freedom is?

Not a definite kind of freedom, no. An inexplicable one. The kind where nothing is imposed on us, where nothing exists except our feelings.

So how can I?

Complicated, right?

But if it was simple, it wouldn’t be so beautiful.

So, my feelings are genuine, but not desired.

They cannot disappear like it was nothing.

And that is where all the beauty lies.

Nell

the heartbroken me(original version)

Avant, l’expression avoir le cœur brisé me paraissait si loin, si loin de ce que je croyais ressentir, presque impossible à imaginer.

Et pourtant, petit à petit, ce déni dans lequel je m’étais abritée commençait à me consumer, sans que je m’en rende compte.

Yeah, I had a dream, a nightmare.

Celui où I realized I was in love with him depuis je ne sais combien de temps, et le réaliser m’a tout d’abord remplie d’une grande joie : me l’avouer, être honnête envers mes sentiments, nous imaginer nous tenant la main et imaginer ce qu’on aurait pu être.

Le plus drôle est que parfois, le pire des cauchemars contient le plus beau des rêves.

J’en avais presque oublié que j’étais dans un cauchemar, mais je me suis vite rappelée when I lost my heart, seeing him falling in love with her.

And a part of me died into the nightmare and in reality.

Et le plus dur n’était pas le cauchemar, mais le réveil.

Le fait de savoir que tout ce qu’on aurait pu être n’était qu’une illusion, de m’imaginer que l’amour que j’avais pour lui, il le ressentait pour une autre, et c’est cette douleur que j’ai tant repoussée.

Je me demande comment aimer peut être le plus beau des mots et le plus douloureux.

Et pourtant, the heartBroken me keeps hoping.

When I figured out it was unrequited love, all I wanted was to forget about him, to run away from pain.

But how can I unlove someone who showed me what freedom is?

Not a definite freedom, the one that was inexplicable, et celle où rien ne nous est imposé, où ne vivent que nos sentiments.

So, how can I?

Complicated, right?

But if it was simple, it wouldn’t be so beautiful.

So, my feelings are genuine but not desired.

Ils ne peuvent pas disparaître like it was nothing, et en voilà toute la beauté.

Nell

[thoughtkick]

“You cannot make everyone think and feel as deeply as you do. This is your tragedy … because you understand them, and they do not understand you.”

— Daniel Saint

[nachakka]

L'AIR ET LE NÉANT

Lorsqu'on entend ces deux notions

que sont l'air et le néant,

il ne vient pas à l'idée

de les associer.

L'un semble vide,

mais ne l'est pas réellement,

tandis que l'autre paraît vide

et l'est véritablement.

Au moment où cette émotion

que l'on appelle amour

change de degré,

lorsqu'on fatigue

que la quantité que l'on donne

ne soit pas proportionnelle

à celle que l'on reçoit,

on se met à penser

que l'on est le néant,

alors même

que nous sommes l'air.

On ressent ce vide,

ce vide qui engouffre

toutes nos émotions,

de manière à ce que

nous ne soyons plus autorisés

à ressentir.

On essaye pourtant.

Mais les émotions

nous passent au travers.

On se met à espérer

que ce trou béant

dans la poitrine

soit comblé

d'une manière ou d'une autre.

Le plus curieux

est la solitude

que représente ce vide.

Alors même

que nous sommes entourés,

on se sent seul.

Et c'est là

que naît le mystère.

On a l'air d'être heureux,

sans l'être pour autant.

Et plus on creuse

pour comprendre notre pourquoi,

plus ce trou

s'élargit.

Et finalement,

au moment où l'on est plongé

dans ce néant,

on cherche comment se rapprocher,

ne serait-ce qu'un peu,

de ce qu'est l'air.

Alors que nous le sommes déjà.

Et même bien plus que ça.

Nelle

[quotefeeling]

“I used to think the worst thing in life was to end up all alone. It’s not. The worst thing in life is to end up with people who make you feel all alone.”

— Robin Williams

[nachakka]

"Love is not a definite word it's like stars,everyone can see it in a different way but still call it beautiful . Weird right?"

[nachakka]

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L'ESPOIR FAIT VIVRE

────────────────────────────

Believe.

What a contradictory word.

Because it can be the beginning,

or the end,

or even the beginning of the end.

If we go skydiving,

we plunge into the unknown,

but with a way back.

We're afraid, yes,

but that's not where we hope.

It's when we try to believe

that doubt intoxicates us.

Then we can choose to live or die,

to fight,

or simply not to choose.

So how do we drown all these thoughts

that are slowly killing us,

without being overwhelmed

by what we call the ego?

When we play chifoumi with a friend,

we have as much chance of winning

as losing.

Yet,

we don't ask ourselves the question.

We play anyway.

When we stop believing,

we die.

That's why

hope keeps us alive.

As for me,

I chose to jump,

to drown,

to be submerged,

and above all,

to live.

In other words,

I chose to play.

────────────────────────────

[nachakka]

You were my cream color.

For me, that color represents the mixture of everything I love and everything I hate, but also the light brought forth by total darkness.

I was in the dark, and I let you light me up, just a little.

And when I began to shine, you didn't want to be in my light, but I would have given anything for you to let me light you up, rather than become the shadow of a light that was too bright.

I loved talking with you, but I hated the days that passed without you.

You were healing me, but I found myself hoping it would never end.

Your words of encouragement were my comfort, and everything you didn't tell me was my Achilles' heel.

And I realized it too late.

Tell me,

if I had told you that you were my cream color,

would you still have fallen in love with her?

(French version)

Tu étais ma couleur crème

Pour moi, cette couleur représente le mélange de tout ce que j'aime et de tout ce que je déteste, mais aussi la lumière mise en avant par l'obscurité totale.

J'étais dans le noir et je t'ai laissé m'éclairer, juste un peu.

Et quand j'ai commencé à briller, tu ne voulais pas être dans ma lumière, mais j'aurais tout donné pour que tu me laisses t'éclairer, plutôt que de devenir l'ombre d'une trop grande lumière.

J'aimais parler avec toi, mais je détestais les jours passés sans toi.

Tu étais en train de me guérir, mais je me suis prise à espérer que cela ne s'arrête jamais.

Tes mots d'encouragement étaient mon réconfort, et tout ce que tu ne me disais pas était mon talon d'Achille.

Et je l'ai réalisé trop tard.

Dis-moi,

si je t'avais dit que tu étais ma couleur crème,

tu serais quand même tombé amoureux d'elle ?