I accidentally dropped my heart today, it broke.
and it sounded like your laughter.
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
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Keni
we're not kids anymore.

Love Begins
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if i look back, i am lost

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Andulka
hello vonnie
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@searainstorm
I accidentally dropped my heart today, it broke.
and it sounded like your laughter.
I asked him if we can meet, one last time. he said, yes, we will.
after that day, I kept meeting him for the last time. I kept meeting him in the rain, I kept meeting him on the wings of a bird who's returning home. I kept meeting him in the shapes of clouds, I kept meeting him on summer afternoons, I kept meeting him on winter mornings. I kept meeting him in the films we watched together, I kept meeting him in the songs that I told him to listen. I kept meeting him in the photographs, I kept meeting him in my dreams.
I kept meeting him for the last time everyday since then, and I kept meeting him everywhere except the place he told me to wait at.
I kept meeting him, except for the thing that, I never met him again.
My favourite conspiracy theory is everything will get better in the end.
I ask my parents if they love me, or not. They ask me the same. Then we all sit in silence.
Life would've been so much better if I didn't ever fall for someone. I could still be the child I once used to be. I could still believe that there's good in this world. People are good. They like flowers. They look up to see the sky. They eat chocolates. They talk to each other and laugh their hearts out. They live. They are good. People are good.
I don't know when it all became this complicated. I don't know when I started to look for myself in others. I don't know exactly when, I became empty of me.
I have the days when I don't feel like a person all along. The days when I can sense it all right in my throat. When I have to struggle just to exist, and the mere thought of love and care makes my stomach turn. All these suffering don't feel like a lesson or the path towards things getting better. It feels like what it really is, the waves of sadness. I don't pretend, I don't lie to myself, I don't fool myself just to console this poor tired soul. Those days, it all is, actually is, pain and suffering, raw and real. I can hear the blood flowing through my veins, trying to take everything away with them, and create a tsunami. I can clearly hear the words beating in my heart, unmasked and turbulent, begging me to let them out. But all I've ever offered is silence, all I've ever done is to torment my own self. There's a terrible chaos going on here.
Does it all make sense?
Oh, the urge to give in to the ruin. The urge to ask the sea to overflow me, to ask the sky to fall over my head, to ask the ground to take me beneath it. The urge to walk on the fire, the urge to take a knife and stab right into my chest. That's not simply an urge to die I guess. That's just simply a wanting to be bigger, larger, to be a part of the vastness. To stare at the endless night sky, full of stars-ah, the urge to be one of them. To travel the whole world and not having a single place left unseen. To see five oceans and seven continents, to belong to the earth. I want to be ruined and I need to be saved. I want to stand in the middle of a war and I want the air and light to save me from the bullets. I want to love everyone and everything and overcome each and every trace of hatred that has ever touched my skin. I want to live at my fullest and I want the death to wrap me in his arms with a motherly affection.
Well, is a home never meant for me to have? Is a home too much to ask for?
"I talk to God about you."
— Nayyirah Waheed, from Salt (via lunamonchtuna)
All my life, I've tried to prove that I'm not guilty. Yes, I'm not completely innocent, even I've made strategies, made ways, done things which are not right at all. But not all wrongs are sins, I promise, not every single time I should have paid the price at this much extent. There's not a mere moment when I can escape from the feeling of guilt. I know I can't be right all the time but I cannot be always wrong. It's just way too much suffocating that I can't even stand for myself. I lose the words when they're supposed to defend me. My guts beg me to speak up for myself as I know that I don't deserve this, I'm not good enough but I'm not that bad atleast. Why all the time, every single time I became the one who commits sins, I became the who is wrong? Who on earth is my own? Do I not deserve forgiveness or understanding? Even for once?
(late night entries from my journal)
In my dreams, it's all okay, and you haven't left yet.
But why isn't the sea kind enough to save me from drowning? It says, "I love you, I love you, trust me, I love you" and I trust quite blindly. I can clearly see the large waves wounding me, I can feel the coldness making me numb. Still, it says, "I'm your home, trust me, I'll keep you safe" and I trust, I trust quite blindly. What is love if not protecting them from our own thorns? It says "This is nature by the way, you're always gonna get drowned into the sea." But what is the point of a home if not keeping the little child safe when the whole house is burning? Or maybe, I'm wrong. But I can't lie to myself when I'm standing in front of the blue which once gave me the courage to speak up. I love, oh God, how much I love this endless blue, this vastness holds my heart, but maybe too tightly that it can't help bleeding. It says, "I'm here to wash away your sins, don't be afraid of me" but still can't even comfort me when I'm burning from my own conscience.
Who makes the judgment by the way?