nazé

i open up my soul and i will tell you stories, tender.

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keşke kelimelerim olsa

bir şeyler yazmam anlatmam lazım. keşke kelimelerim olsa. keşke benim de ağzım, yüzüm, ellerim olsa. dilimin ucuna geliyor bir şeyler ama dilim varmıyor. dilimi ben mi yok saydım? ne olsa da kendimi var ederim diye bakınıyorum. ne olsa da ben de dilimi olduğunu, kelimelerim olduğunu anlarım. kendimi var etmek istiyorum. içimden tekrarlıyorum: "kelimeler kurtaracak! kelimeler yaşatır."

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günlük: 24.06.24

odamda geceleri zamanı yutuyorum. ne gündoğumu kalıyor ne günbatımı. rüzgar esmiyor, bir müziktir yankılanıyor. odam benim bir parçam oluyor. öyleyse sevmeliyim bu duvarları, bedenimin duvarlarına benzeyen. sevmeliyim bu havayı çünkü güvendeyim. esiyorum kendi içimde. burada saklanmak yok, burası benim özümün aktığı yer.

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I open up my soul

I open up my soul and I see there are many layers to me. Beautiful things are hidden in between. I hide them away, I forget my history and my beauty. To let them be, I should let them be known. I shall never forget the layers to me, I shall not keep them behind closed doors. They are beautiful and I must speak their beauty.

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günlük: 10.08.24

dünya döngüler içinde.

"dönüşerek dinlenir." herakleitos

"temaslar: bütün olanlar ve bütün olmayanlar, bir araya gelen ve ayrılan ahenkli olan, hem her şeyden Bir ve hem de Bir'den her şey." herakleitos

ben de dönüyorum kendime. yaşadım, yaşadım ve buradayım sonunda. ben buradayım. akıp gitmek istiyorum. ruhumun bütün köşelerine vuracak sular, atlamadan. ben de akacağım, arınacağım. ümit ediyorum. içim bükülü kalmayacak artık...

sana her şeyi anlatacağım.

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günlük: 12.08.24

konuşmak istemiyorum ama anlatmalıyım.

kendimi dünyaya karışırken hayal ediyorum: denizin üzerinde süzüldüğümü ve gökyüzüne baktığımı...

kendimi anlatmak, günlük sayfalarımın okunması gibi. şimdi içim dürülmüş, sımsıkı bükülmüş ve yıpranmış bir deftere benziyor. o kadar sımsıkı sarmış ve saklamışım ki... açıp bütün sayfaları görmek istiyorum. cesaret edeceğim. içtenlik beni açığa çıkaracak. ben bütün aralıklarımla, kıvrımlarımla açığa çıkmak istiyorum. önceden olsa "bilinmek" istiyorum derdim. ancak biri tarafından görülmek değil mesele. saklanmamak, içimi kıvırıp bükmemek artık. nereden başlasam bilemiyorum, hala utanç duyuyorum.

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A Garden of Your Own

I have always wanted my mind to become a beautiful garden. I wanted it to be a beautiful house. Where I can drink my tea, sit on the couch and watch my garden. Watch the sunbeams, flowers, trees, kids and kittens playing. And I'll know I brought warmth to this place.

Love yourself in the way you love the world.

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beni arzulamak var mı senin düşlerinde?

seni sevmek geliyor içimden

gücüm de yetiyor

ama senin gücün yetiyor mu

beni düşlemeye?

benim gibileri kaplıyor mu sevgin?

kimi düşlüyorsun;

onu mu,

onun gibileri mi?

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yerim yurdum

yurdumu seçebilir miyim?

benim geldiğim yerde

deniz kenarındaki kayalar üstünde

dağ kekikleri koklardım

seni yurduma götürsem

orada beni bulabilir misin?

kendimi baştan yaratabilir miyim?

seni yurduma götürsem

benim izlerimi görecek misin?

seninle yeniden doğmak isterim

çünkü sen beni anlayabilirsin.

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18.11.2024

ben bir ev olabilirim, bir yuva olabilirim ve sunabilirim. ben bir yuva olabilirim, ben ışıyabilirim ve ısıtabilirim.

ben aydınlık olacağım, keşfedeceğim. ben, ben olacağım ve anlayacağım, aktaracağım.

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içimden sana konuşurken buldum kendimi

beni sana ulaştıramayan nedir?

kendime olan sevgimin kilidini açıyorsun

kendim için biriktirdiğim iyi hislerim

senin cümlelerinle bana geri dönüyorlar.

sana ayırdığım sevgiyi kendimi beslemek için kullanacağım. seni sevmek böyle bir şey mi?

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ışıklar üstüme düşüyor

sabahlar beni aydınlatacak mı?

gittiğim yol beni renklerle yıkayacak mı?

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my love language is to make sure you are loved

I will comb your hair down

Touch your shoulders and head lightly

I will memorize how your scalp smells like

I hope you memorize my gentle touches

I will bring your cheek next to mine

Our faces touch and discover their surfaces

Close your eyes to sense me fully

I hope you feel like floating because of my presence

I hope you smile briefly everytime you think of me. I hope you remember me well. But mostly I hope I am not just a dream.

I hope in return you will love me with my trouble, with my turbulance.

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halin karşımda dikiliyor

ve ben seni okumaya çalışıyorum.

davranışların, mimiklerin ve bakışların…

hepsinin bir öyküsü var.

gövdendeki tünelden sana bakıyorum.

gözlerinin kenarındaki kıvrımdan

seni anlamaya çalışıyorum.

dudakların niye titriyor?

seni buraya ne getirdi?

nasıl doğdun ve büyüdün?

biliyor musun,

hala hayattasın.

karşımda dikiliyorsun ya işte

varsın.

köklerinin yere uzandığını görmüyor musun?

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Ordinary Person part 4

I love spiders. They represent strong female symbols for me. They create and care from their own hands. From their spit they produce a house and a trap. Territorial and smart. I feel valuable and alive if I am able to create things. I must make it from my own spit —as women bear children out of their womb. Your body creates a life. I was born to create I know. I worry my soul isn’t fertile enough. I worry that I’m rotten inside.

I long to be free and I long to live. I can feel my body shimmering everytime I’m dreaming. I sense the golden musk coming over and reviving my body. I feel the mist. I want to rely on my breath. I spend my days in my room. I long connection. I imagine spiderwebs all around me. Can I wrap my webs around you as I do for ideas and dreams and memories? But I made this web out of my body. Will you be affected by such essence of me? I make the web under my arms. I can’t touch people or look at them directly. But I yearn and long. And I like to wonder. To have some sort of connection, I created the webs. Such intimate creations from such a timid soul. The more you long the more intense you value it. The web is my home, I choose it over reality. I have produced it myself from my own existence. I picked the right colors and the right shapes. It’s a part of my body, it is animalistic and dense. That’s how a home smells like. I can’t dare to share it. I am most comfortable with masks. The web suffocates me at times. I get wrapped around it and I fall over. My own visions, critiques, decisions and desires take me so far. Then I become immobile. I come to a deadlock. I am blind as a spider. If I lose my senses, I become utterly irrelevant. I feel excluded from the joys of other people.

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Ordinary Person part 3

and I know

They can feel the shame through my face. They can tell I’m looking at the back of my head. My gaze doesn’t meet the world fully. As it goes backwards, it goes towards me.

Just three people decided to stay the night: me, a younger a bit silly guy, handsome guy with intense look to me.

You tell people things about you. But sometimes they ask again, it makes me think because now they see a different you and the info makes more different sense now. They put you in a different place in their mind, they might as well change the connections they have made. “The faint-hearted, strangely dressed girl” turns into “Her” and the information means something much more and much important.

At work that day I felt low.I recognized I tried to be easy all my life. Easy to love, easy to embrace. I couldn’t be me. I had to be easy. I suppose that’s why I glorify the idea of becoming ordinary. To be ordinary you must have some worth but to be easy you musn’t have any at all.

I haven’t been showering for a week. I haven’t been showering a lot lately. My whole body is dried up. I’m using this medicine for acne treatment. Only bodily fluid  I have left is my saliva. Even between my legs, I don’t smell much. It is still wet but somehow doesn’t have that sexual odor. It makes me think I’m finally free. I don’t have an identity if I don’t have any smell of hormones.

I thought about it a lot. If humans are biopsychosocial beings there must be something that intrigues the psyche to be. Why do you want to have an identity? And during puberty while you are discovering your sexual organs you go through a crisiss of self. Why do you want build such intricate, delicate details about yourself? I never thought I’d come close thinking similar to Freud. I hated his focus on sexual organs and his sexual stories. But focusing on it makes the absolute sense for the psyche. And I must agree with the interpretations of his ideas of libido. Because we are not just what we mean to society. We are not just what we do for the community. We still focus on building things other than that. We ornament our existence. I think that’s the soul's doing.

Am I afraid of my own colors? Do I hide my ornaments and even destroy them? Because if you psychologically exist you are thunderously individual. You are being seen person to be person, body to body, essence to essence, scent to scent, touch to touch, breath to breath, gaze to gaze, mimic to mimic, soul to soul without any corners to hide. Everything about you reveals itself through the linings of your body.

I am quite socially scared as well. But maybe I find it easier to hide accompanied by crowds of people. The secret that I keep hidden from myself is a community is build through the essence of every individual. I pretend I can hide. I pretend that I can make myself less. But my body is solid and my soul is never withering. It is always there, I just pretend, pretend and pretend.

I feel as if I watch myself from the back of my head at all instances. I am judging myself quietly. But that day at our theatre instructors house I felt as if I left the observer behind at home. I was surprised I was there. I was out of my room with people I don’t really know much. I laughed, made jokes and revealed myself. There could be a me in my room rotting in bed. It was more possible that she was real but I was right here in bed again, not in my room and not alone at all.

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Ordinary Person part 2

And then three days later I had to be there again. I used to dress quite different and unique I would say. But then I felt like stopping. I wanted to be simple and normal. As I got dressed I tried to imagine a usual girl. I put on a bra, had a delicate, light pink top, beige cardigan and brown pants. I always liked strange jewelry. I make jewelry with bright colors and big beads. But I didn’t let myself put them on instead I put a tiny, elegant necklace. I see girls always put on small, fragile necklaces and those necklaces usually mean something to them, someone bought it for them or it was their mothers. Mine had no meaning, I picked it just to pretend. I tried to keep my look as elegant as possible. I didn’t want to do make-up and I had converses as exceptions.

That day I couldn’t buy anything because we were boycotting against the government. I made ready my meal beforehand. I cooked beans with rice. I like to cook traditional Turkish food, makes me feel as if a mother cooks it for me. I keep a ghost of a mother at home, at heart.

I took the train and landed after a few stops. I walked a little. I thought, I am unfamiliar with myself. but I am perfectly conditioned to understand my surroundings and act accordingly. I get pissed at how docile I am.

After work I went to theatre pratice. We were at instructors house who was a bit older than us and studied cinema at our college. I didn’t play any parts and I didn’t even read the script. I thought I wouldn’t be able to do it. I sat in my room, locked, thinking how terrible I would look auditioning. It made me feel stupid. I couldn’t even dare trying to make it happen. As I watched my friends playing their parts I couldn’t help but think I could do the same or even better. But I couldn’t even face that I don’t have the courage to fail.

I experiment imagining myself being my true nature in public. I try to see me playing a role or exercise playing a role with my team, sharing my ideas while at least 30 people watching me. I tell myself my face, my body, my movements and all my flaws can turn towards people. They can see all the creases of my identity here and there and sense me. Sense the texture of my soul. They can smell me. See my pores, oil and dirt. They can smell me. I can look people in the eye and see my reflection. I must dare it.

Scent is quite significant I believe. We recognize each other through scent. Similar to a mother knowing her baby by the scent. Our intution works best through odor. We categorize people without noticing. Odor of body with all its parts. You decipher who someone is as if you feel their skin on your skin, as if your bodies became intertwined. You can not sift parts out, you have to take it all in.

I can’t make peace with my soul. My odor disgusts me. I don’t want to have a scent. Rarely I make effort to smell pretty. I can’t let people smell me then they will feel my body. My body. Then they will know me. To carry the weight of heaving a body. Accepting I have ugliness in me. A body is never perfect and always alive. To be alive is being humane. You have to smell definitely. But my efforts  to have no scent at all was colossal.

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Ordinary Person part 1

I remember writing an oath to become extraordinary and wonderful. I must become something great i always thought without noticing. I must do something, I must change the world. and here I am I found out becoming ordinary is greater than being great. I spend my days trying to find out what would be my salvation. What could make me live? A love, a destiny? Should I become a hero? If i am interesting enough i could live.

Then i noticed, i am already alive. I am right here. What was it that I thought I was dead? I learned Murakami wrote in English before he published anything. I noticed I must speak. Not just writing, living me. Living me, being me. I noticed THAT is the great deal. Just to live. Simply. And i try to live simply.

I like to see people without shame. I like to watch them as they pour their soul without a filter. One doesn’t need to check if they fit or not. They don’t need to see if they are amiable. They don’t measure the reactions they would get. I like to see people being just themselves. I watch people who are free from themselves as i long their freedom, want it, need it.

I keep a record of what does an ordinary person do. an ordinary person has a job. An ordinary person would email somewhere if necessary. An ordinary person would go to sleep quickly. An ordinary person eats a breakfast.

So I got a job. At a second-hand clothing shop. I didn’t know what they have sold beforehand. I went there in a hurry since I heard about it the day before. Someone from my college (who had gratuated) was looking for a worker. It was such a lovely shop,  interesting clothes with a colorful interior design. They had cute decorations everywhere and lots of bags and ties and shoes. At my first day, since it is spring and summer is ahead we tried to get rid of all cosy clothing. We kept folding and folding and folding the three of us. My manager, the girl from my college and me. When i returned home and closed my eyes to sleep I kept seeing us folding and folding still.

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