Resurrected Rock Star @toujours-inquiet - Tumblr Blog

Letters I’ll never send

I don’t know why things went silent between us, and more importantly, when.

I believed we were happy, I know I was, weren’t you? Goddamn I was so happy I forgot all my hesitation and second guessing and decided to go all in, you knew that, so why weren’t you happy?

I keep going back to our conversations, I can’t find the pivotal moment all things went south for you, they must’ve gone south since you’re not here right? Why else would you leave.

The absence of someone who was there every waking moment of the day is so devastating. I want to wail and cry to you like I did everything else, but you’re not here, and I can’t seem to process the very fact that you’re not gonna be here.

So many moments passed where I needed you, with every walking step I take there’s an echoing voice in my head whispering you should’ve been here, it keeps bouncing around the corners of my mind like a rubber ball and repeating itself almost like a mantra now. And it hurts.

I’m writing this to get it out of my system, so I can at least fight the urge to run up to you and ask why, why did you leave so suddenly like I was never there? Did I do something wrong? Say too much? You said you liked it whenever I shared too much.

I’ve been staring at the blank ceiling above my bed for the past two days, like a discarded toy, replaying moments we’ve spent together and trying to find a reason, tears fall silently from my eyes when I can’t find any and I’m left with memories of places I’ll never be able to revisit the same again, remembering we have a picture together stored somewhere some place in the city to celebrate us. And how that picture outlived us.

My heart stings and my eyes are wet, I don’t want to cry, I am so determined not to cry, but everything hurts, the silence slowly creeps from the voids of my heart and up my throat, suffocating me slowly. My friends try to cheer me up, “it was just a few months, be grateful for the small time” but it never felt like a small time, I’ve counted the days we met, the hours we’ve talked, the conversations we’ve bared all in….or at least I bared my all in.

When did you decide to move on? Were you listening to me go on about liking you, held my hands, and calmed my raging mind, all whilst thinking “I’m gonna leave her”? When was I not it for you? Was I ever it for you? I can’t find the reason, and it’s driving me insane. I can’t grasp the fact that you’d decided to leave, all while spinning words of affection to me so dearly my heart for the first time was in awe.

I’m still getting anxiety attacks you know. The ones you held my hands during, and assured me it’s all in my head while I confessed my deep rooted fears of you leaving. I really wish it was all still in my head. I’m still getting anxiety attacks you know, just this time, it’s all true and you’re not here.

I keep switching between extreme rage and devastating sadness, extreme rage that you’ve left without a word, you’ve left after telling me we’d meet up, you’d left after I specifically asked you not to go, you left when I didn’t deserve to be left in that humiliating way, devastated and drowning in sorrows because you’d promised you won’t leave, that you’re mine, that we’re gonna last, that you started to fall for me.

So many times I’ve held my tongue, I was gonna tell you I loved you damn it, and it’s still true, I fucking love you and I don’t know what to do with that fact now that you’re not here to hear my say it, I told you I don’t fall in love easily, that I take time to know the person, were you pretending? You put your hand on my back so tenderly, and held my hand so tightly that I almost believed you loved me back. Why did you leave? It hurts. It hurts. It hurts…

toujours-inquiet

Dear stranger,

It’s been a year since you left, I still don’t know the reason you left.

The days we spent together always leave a sour taste in my mouth, like rotten apples that I want to spit out. Your memory now leaves a dull ache that became a part of me.

It’s been a year since you left, a year in which I had to physically pick myself up from the floor after wheezing in mind numbing, crippling pain, I still don’t know why you left.

I tell any new person I meet about you, about how what we had was the best damn thing I had ever experienced, even if you never felt the same.

I tried removing you from any social media I had, I removed our texts and pictures together. I still wonder why you still follow me on Instagram and watch my stories, the hopelessly in love little piece of me, hoping against hope that somehow, you might miss me.

I still don’t know why you left, every day countless scenarios and reasons run through my mind and I do everything possible to keep my mind busy, otherwise I’d think of you. I still see you, I mean we have volleyball practice together for god’s sake. It hurts that you pretend that I don’t exist, that you never knew me, talked to me, smiled at me tenderly, or held me close. I’m just a stranger to you. Was I ever anything but a stranger?

Truthfully, I could never fully hate you, I just hate how I compare every single man to you, and no one could even come close, and it drives me absolute batshit crazy that I can’t get over you or what you meant to me. Will I ever move on?

All the places we went together, I now go alone, erasing our fingerprints from tables, chairs, and arcades, and replacing them with bitter sadness.

I started learning ice hockey, in the same place you taught me how to skate, in the same place we left our photograph for everyone to see. With time, I stopped thinking about that picture, I wonder if it’s still up.

Everyday is a constant battle for me to wake up, and move on, not talk about you to my friends who are all already sick and tired of you. Stop checking to see if you’ve looked at my stories, build the self esteemed you’ve crashed to the ground and just survive.

I don’t know how long it’s gonna take me to get over you, to kill that stupid little voice inside my head that asks me to wait, that you’ll come back, that this is all a misunderstanding, that you never meant to hurt me. But the logical part of me knows that it’s damn near impossible. Everything is ruined, you’re never coming back, and you’ve never loved me.

I hope next year I can type something other than woes about you, that I can look back to this and realize that I’ve stopped thinking about you, that I’m free from the ridiculous hold you have over me. Next year, I’ll stop thinking about you, your hair, your face, your laugh, and the stupid motorbike you promised I’d get to ride one day.

It doesn’t hurt as much anymore.

toujours-inquiet

Dear me,

It’s been over four years now. Fate keeps reminding me how small our world is, how everything floats to the surface in the end like rotten eggs.

Out of nowhere, I had my answer last week as to why your lover left, and it was anticlimactic. You’ve had nightmares of him telling you, that you were made wrong in every single universe, every single scenario, that knowing the actual reason now is just…sad.

You’ve moved on ages ago. The thought of him just buzzes past your mind when he’s brought up or you see him randomly. And frankly, your taste in men is ugly.

You fell in love again….got your heart broken again, and now you’re pinning after that man willing him to treat you the same way you’ve treated him. With the sort of passion that sets worlds ablaze and makes stupid fairytales of perseverance and faith sound real.

My darling, I wish I could hold you, give you the kind of love and tenderness you deserve , but you just keep picking the same ugly useless man..only in different fonts.

Please love yourself.

memeuplift

the-real-seebs

A person I know decided to push really hard for “no hitting the kids, at all”, and his wife agreed, although she’d been raised with Some Hitting and thought it was normal. And then she discovered that her child wasn’t afraid of her at all, and she could pull a hand back and the child would just giggle because that wasn’t a threat, and she suddenly realized that actually it had fucked her up so deeply that she couldn’t even see it.

Anyway, good job parenting.

rodina3

Some people don’t realize just how much parental abuse affects someone. Even decades later, children or not. There’s so much psychological damage and emotional damage that is so hard to undo because you were hit and yelled at when you needed love and compassion. Fuck child abusers and good on those who break that pattern.

memeuplift

valarhalla

So, Boris Johnson wrote an essay in which he talked about the Sistine Chapel and then said : “There is nothing like it in Muslim art of that or any age, not just because it is beyond the technical accomplishment of Islamic art, but because it is so theologically offensive to Islam.”

BITCH

NOT TO MENTION the fact that the prohibition against direct images in Islam was actually the reason for the development of the incredible advances in higher mathematics of the Islamic Golden Age because they were required to create these structures. The Islamic World basically took the ban on images as a “hold my beer” thing and created an entire artistic culture based on mathematics and architecture where art and science fed into and glorified each other, 700 years before the Italian Renaissance.

In conclusion

outercorner

i will say that islamic art drove me nuts as a kid because i did not have the math knowledge or capability to create such geometric patterns. it may have been the art of my people but by gOD it was difficult and unnecessarily difficult. however my pride in islamic art is neverending. it was frowned upon to be vain in the house, so artists would deck out the places of worship - but places of worship couldn’t be too garishly decorated, or it might detract from worship! the compromise? calm blues and greens, intricate details hidden into the complex patterns. carefully mapped out and planned patterns that were beyond complex and straight into deliberately confusing and practically impossible to replicate. not only that, but verses from the Quran were hidden along the walls, asking god for blessings and care.

muslim art is stunning and i’ll fight the bitch that says otherwise.

amuseoffyre

Also something underappreciated about the Islamic art is that not only is it geometrically incredible, but the geometry and structure of it has a purpose. In the niches and ceilings, the cascading ornamentation is used for acoustic purposes. In many of the mosques, they are so well laid out and designed that a single person standing on a specific spot can speak/sing/pray and be heard in every single part of the building.