.it is.

[ofmeandaround]

A love letter to a person who has told me to ‘be well’ in varyingly gentle ways, countless times.

It's not that you have told me the words countless times, it's just that I have felt the softness of them countless times.

Though I have deemed myself incapable of love, there seems still to be in me a sparkle that can recognize it.

You remind me of love.

I was reminded of love since the very first time you told me to be well.

The words might sound too simple to you for them to evoke such a reminder in me. The simplicity of the words is a stark contrast to the depth of them. A depth that loses its shallowness when it's met with the realization that the words are said from one stranger to another, when it's met with the realization that the words were evoked simply because we met upon a few words that perhaps held the same weight for both of us in different ways, when it's met with the realization that there was no act that evoked the words; what truly evoked the words is the kindness that lays in you.

And what evokes these words in me is the appreciation I have for that kindness.

I know your mind might have many objections to my assumptions of your kindness. I admit I don't know you in all your layers and facets, I do not know your flaws or imperfections. But your flaws do not take away from your kindness, they do not reduce it, do not diminish it, some might even exalt it; isn't the coexistence of your kindness with some of your flaws but an indication that you allow your kindness to win on them?

That roses have thorns does not take from them their identities as flowers of love. In such a way, that you have imperfections does not take from me the reminder of love you evoke.

I do not demand of you to accept this association of mine to you. I simply request that the way I deny not your flaws, I hope you do not deny the bits of love I can see in you.

And for all the love I have felt from you, there are many things I wish for you; I wish the weather is of your preference on bad days, I wish for your relationship with spoken words to be less tangled and more smooth, I wish you allow yourself the same kindness you show others.

- From a stranger who deeply appreciates your words of appreciation.

[ofmeandaround]

I thought all I was capable of was love; my so called purpose.

But I was wrong.

I am not capable of love. I am incapable of love. In every sense of the word incapable.

I can not love anyone.

I have never loved anyone how I believe love to be, how I believed it to be.

I have never loved anyone.

All that I did for people that I loved was all...in vain, was all...where did it all go, what happened to it, what was it even to the person i loved, what was it.

Was it that I did not love them how they needed to be loved or was it that I was rejected each time.

What has happened to me.

Where has myself gone.

At the very least tell me where I was buried

so that i can sit next to the earth that covers my body in silence

in companionship

in gratitude

in loss

in mourning

in compassion

in apathy

in...acknowledgment perhaps

that I was once alive like that

that once I had all that in me

that I was all that at some point in time

that there was something about myself that i recognized

that there was something about myself that i liked, that i was fond of, that I didn't abhor

in acknowledgment that it really happened, that there was indeed a time where i was more myself than i will perhaps ever be.

in acknowledgment that there was a little bit of my existence that i wasn't ashamed of, that i didn't loathe, that i...liked.

Tell me so that I can apologize to my body covered by the earth

so that I can apologize to the silence that remains of me

I'm sorry, for having let you be buried alive

for having let you suffocate slowly

for having lost you so easily

you see, I didn't realise

I never realised.

There were hands pressing on me, forcing me to bow, to grab a shovel and dig.

And than there were hands pressing me to bow, to kneel, to lay in the grave I dug with my own hands.

The hands pressing on me were too strong, my dear

they were too suffocating.

But, my dear, you see, my skin was numb, it was all numb

There were hands pressing on me but I never felt skin on my skin, I just felt the pressure.

There were hand squeezing around my neck, I could see them but I couldn't feel their skin against mine, I could only feel my breath slowly losing me.

You see, my dear, you are not the only one I have lost.

I have lost my breath too, I have lost my breath's trust in me. It no longer wants to return to me, and I'm not sure I ever want it to return. I want it to either return to me completely or leave me completely, but it insists on keeping me on the edge of alive. Is it revenge, i wonder.

My dear, my dear, my dear I'm sorry for having lost you like this

but by the time I realised there were hands pressing on me, suffocating me and by the time I gathered enough breath to scramble to fight against the hands I had already lost you and all that was left of me is the shell of you i am right now.

My dear, my dear, they refuse to tell me where I buried you, where I buried me.

My dear, my dear, my lovely lost dear, they refuse to tell me where I buried me lest I sob on my grave, lest I cry for you. They say look ahead, there's no use looking back. Are you there my dear? At my back? Behind me?

If I turn back, will I find you my dear?

My dear, do I have the right to call you my dear.

My dear, I do not know how to look ahead. My dear, you were braver than me.

My dear, I want to say I'm so afraid without you but I can not say it.

My dear, I have lost myself, I have lost you.

My dear, I'm tired of apologising.

My dear, perhaps there is not even enough left of me to feel for you anymore.

My dear, I'm sorry for having become this.

I am incapable of love.

- minushya

[ofmeandaround]

It's not the birth of a star or the death of a star that matters. It is the in between, it is the way it shines in the middle, the way it sparkles so bright, so hot that I bask in it's light. And yes, I do bask in its light, I sit under the night sky and I smile up at the star that shines upon me, almost for me. However, I know that the star is not solely mine and belongs to lots. And maybe that's why they are so precious: the same star, so individual yet everyone's own. So I thank the individual star for being mine at some point, for shining upon me at some point, for making me smile at some point. I thank the star as I sit under it's light, for it made me smile, for it made me cry, for it made me feel and for it healed in all the right places and it stuck in all the corners.

It is not the birth of a star or the death of a star that will go down in history; it is the middle, the in between that will go down in history. The birth was not up to the star, the death is not the star's fault; it shone in between and that is all that matters.

[ofmeandaround]

You are not toxic; I truly believe you are not so.

But the way you are hurting me right now, oh dear, it hurts, it aches, and it forms tears in my eyes and my chest, it aches, it aches. I truly don't know how to describe it, how to say it, how to put it in words, how to explain the ache in my chest because I do not know how it works, I do not know what is going on, all I know is that it is aching. That is all I can say, that is all I have to describe it, because that is all the understanding I have of my feelings right now or of anything at all right now.

It is aching; my chest is aching.

And I laugh, a sweet, bitter laugh, with moist eyes, because , indeed, you are too, the same as everyone else. The same as every single one of the else that I can ever think of. You proved again, that I love too hard, too much, in a way that is so much that it is never enough, and that it does not matter what I do I will never be able to have it in return, that it is so much and never enough, that it is like fire and dust at the same time, that I am too much and never enough, and that I will never have, never have, never have. Hah, it's a laugh; or a sigh; i'm not quite sure; all i know is that it trembled as it left me.

And I wonder why, just why I had ever even thought that I am, that I was, that I ever will be, that I ever meant to you. And then I remember everything, and I remember why I believed and why I loved and why I believed that you loved too, and now my eyes are not just wet, they are lakes. And I wonder what changed, was I never enough, was I too much, was it just never going to be, was I once again, once again, once again, expecting too much from someone to who I was just someone, someone to remember when they wish, forget when they wish, love when they wish, forget when they wish. Hah, I laugh; it's a laugh; my lakes have turned to seas.

Then what about all those words, all those moments, all those declarations, all those words. I guess they never meant to you either, just like me, just like I never meant to you. Hah, my seas are oceans now, but don't you worry, I will dry them out one by one, with my own hands.

Oh how foolish of me, to even think that you would worry. Hah.

[ofmeandaround]

Why am I like this I don’t wanna be like this. I miss you tell me if you even know of my existence, if you think about me like I do of you in the moments I least expect youre there making me freeze all of a sudden and I stop and I don’t want to stop because if I stop everyone will know that I have something on my mind and they’ll ask whats wrong, what are you thinking about and I don’t want to say your name because who are you to me right nothing or youre supposed to be nothing yet youre too much, way more than youre supposed to be right now. Its not your fault I know you haven’t done anything not even reached for me but my mind is a little twisted longing for you when im supposed to be unfazed, supposed to be so ignorant about you that I don’t even know of your existence.

And I am; I am ignorant in every matter related to you.

Except the matter of your simple, preordained, inevitable existence.

And it all lies there, in the fact that I am knowledgeable of your existence, and how it’s going to be my doom.