let's take a walk

[treehouse of pas]

[wingedpapercat]

When the night falls, when our friends leave us alone with ourselves, each person becomes their own Atlas that holds the weight of their own soul. The weight of the stories untold, the dreams that never coming true and all the other things that nowhere else to go. Regardless of their awareness of it, this burden cannot be carried by anyone else. And deep down they know that, he only got himself / she only got herself. Period.

—pas (open secrets)

Edward Hopper, Automat

[wingedpapercat]

pov: you're a ghost

when a person is dead, their spirits wonder around without knowing that they are dead. some walk around like this for years, some walk around like this for centuries.

first clue that you're dead is that the people you used to be around are not seeing you anymore. they'll say things like " i miss you" even though you're right in front of them.

then you'll notice you really cannot go everywhere. your space will be limited, like you are bound to some object.

then maybe you'll realize you're dead. 'cause freedom to walk everywhere is a privilege of the living. and even though you are dead, you will not ready to admit that yet.

but deep down you'll know soon it'll be your last time to see your friends, so you are going to make sure that they will be okay.

in that search, you'll find nothing. so you'll stick around because you simply cannot let them go even they are already gone, even you are already gone and you can't do anything about it. but you'll stay anyway.

then the real pain will begin. you'll learn that the dead feel pain too. they will burn every moment by the sight of what keeps them bound to here.

you'll slowly admit the fact that you are no longer a part of their life and they are forgetting what you used to make them feel.

soon you wont have anything to stay here for. you'll witness their rise and falls until they completely forget about you.

now it's just you, only you and your scars...

someday, somehow you'll make up your mind (for you have no choice but to) to really let them go despite the fear of unknown. someday you'll love your burning marks because they are the only things that left to remind you of how did you love.

—pas (love language of a ghost is letting go)

[wingedpapercat]

Everything I Know About Love: Nothing

In my head she kept asking me that do I love her? But I didn't know how to answer that for I have not known what love is. As far as I know it has something to do with surrendering and to taking care of something regardless of its physical form. At least that's what I was taught from the beginning.

The irony is, you can learn what love does, how its work and even the source of love in a single lifetime, but still love succeeds in remaining nameless. It gives every proof that it exists, but it doesn't have a name or a face. The thing we associate with the word "love" is a ghost.

The word "love" has not always portrayed that popular sensation of "butterflies in stomach". With 8 billion people out there, love is 8 billion different feelings. And in the end, 8 billion different lies.

[so don't you take it too bad...]

I saw someone, and the moment I saw her I knew I would give anything to that person. Even my eyes, my life. Is that love?

I was so ready to take care of her, even she had a burned skin or had no legs or arms or eyes. Is that love?

I saw how much I care for her with my own eyes and decided to offer that thing to her. Which was something bigger than me and I knew she deserved that. Is that love?

I concerned about her happiness over mine that I swallowed all the love I had to keep her away from the flames. Is that love?

I begged the god to never show her a glimpse of my love because I did't want her to get hurt, even that means I never get to experience her love. Is that love?

Here's a thing about love: despite all the pleasures; the hardships, the pain of the marks it leaves: you have to take them alone. the other can do nothing but sit in the dark with you as you endure this pain. Some might become aware at that moment that they are mortal and helpless like the rest and sometimes it makes them weep. That's the last thing anyone could do.

And maybe by then, you'll realize your love for someone else has nothing to do with them but you, yourself alone. Nor does their love for you have anything to do with you. As Abraham Hicks wrote, “People will love you. People will hate you. And none of it will have anything to do with you. ” All this time its our choice (turns sacrifices) to devote one's life to another mortal defenceless being. Now that makes love a religion.

Here's a harsh truth: It is possible to hate someone once we loved, but there is no way not to love them anymore. If one doesn't love them now, they never loved them before. Maybe in deep down they know that, and that's why they hate the other one in the first place. If someone truly ever loved you, they'll love you even if they walk across the street to avoid you. And you will never know for sure, as they do not know it for themselves. Love plays this little confusion game with human hearts for love is still a stranger to them.

And we all confess our love the way we confess our sins. First we start with the little things like how terrible we feel and then we get into details like how we planned, where we hid it and what we did to cover things up. In confessing, we expect nothing else but forgiveness and perhaps their love in return, the liberation from our own soul. And that's as liberating as confessing to an actual crime. It reminds me of the part that Miranda July wrote in her book 'the first bad man', “Finally,in a low whisper , he said “I think I might be a terrible person .” For a split second I believed him - I thought he was about to confess a crime, maybe a murder. Then I realized that we all think we might be terrible people. But we only reveal this before asking someone to love us. It is a kind of undressing .” Love is this much strange and confusing, but we all got one life to do it all. Must admit, somehow that makes it less terrifying. After all, how can you be ready for life; if you're not ready for love?

—pas

[wingedpapercat]

Anyone who touches art, wish to live.

— pas

[luthienne]

claire schwartz, from poetry rx as featured in the paris review

[wingedpapercat]

When you're in love, every word is a lie. You should have wondered why the source of love is death, and not life…

[wingedpapercat]

I asked the moon,

Where did my dreams go to hide?

Sun said, "you'll never see them, they died"

"I'll remember them for you" ocean cried

Birds sang to whisper "they lied"

While she being loved under the heaven's skies.

So I asked the moon,

Where did my dreams go to hide?

"In the nights, the prayers i heard,

'Please give everything she wants' as I remembered,

Boy this is what she ever wanted."

'But not from him' she told to a bird.

"Don't your heart feel little light,

Just by knowing she had a good life?

Some stranger is gonna commit your crime,

And she's gonna feel the same this time."

"No a dream cannot ever go to hide,

Someone is gonna live them even after you die"

"Then why do I feel this weight tonight?" Asked I

"It's human nature to be selfish" the moon smiled.

—pas (where did my dreams go to hide?)

[wingedpapercat]

Pencil isn't for writing... #Little talks

When something unbearable happened, we blame our sensitiveness, empathy or whatever the thing causing the hurt. But these things are not really for anything. They are like a pencil. It's about how we use it. If you're someone like John wick, you can kill people with it. If you are a cat, you can play with it. If you are a poet or a writer, you can write beautiful things with it. They are just tools, existing just for the sake of existing.

It sucks we don't treat them like tools, that there's no manual on how to use them or no ones teaching on how to use them. I know life is a 'fuck around and figure out' kinda thing, but the collaterals of these tools are unaffordable. Before we know it, we'd make a mess out of it like a toddler with a chalk. Though the society underrates these rare tools in human mind, in a way they are superpowers. And it's okay, even you choose not to use them. You shouldn't feel guilty or hurt just because you have them.

[wingedpapercat]

Humans do not know the faces of demons that live in them and this makes them dangerous to themselves and others. That's what the word "sorry" invented for, to apologize for the things we didn't mean to do but somehow we did, surprising ourselves. Inside of them, there's a fallen angle trapped by all the goodness waiting to unleash. Understanding is the first step to kill a demon, but when it's too late, once their goodness is gone and when the fallen one unleashed, chaos begins.

Once he sees the world with the eyes of the fallen one, he sees neither good nor bad. Because he knows how they become that. He sees why man seeks power, why people kill their lovers when they can't have them, he sees why madness started in the first place. By power, man seeks a refuge, a room no monster can enter. Where he never gets hurt by others. People kill the ones they love because they can live with it than seeing them with others. Madness started because people put their love in the wrong places.

God gave value to everything equally, so nothing could be special or worthless. And humans want what they love to be special, they are willing to rattle the heavens to get what they want. Human is not an innocent creature. They can be kind, but never innocent. The fallen one sees this, and to his demon eyes, kindness is divine. Showing him a glimpse of hope that one day they might make it to the gates of heaven. Yet there are so many faults and diseases in human nature. And forgiveness is the antidote for all of them.

—pas

[wingedpapercat]

Never waste a full moon! Moongaze w/ me while this playlist playing in the background 🐰🔭🌕

[wingedpapercat]

"The moon was there the day I born, the day I first saw your face and the day before that. It'll be there the day I die and the day after that, reminding me what a miracle it all has been."

— pas (of all the people I moongazed with,)

[wingedpapercat]

Where does society go at night?

So much rush - so much noise So many opinions and news All the classes and parties Where those things go at night?

At the end of the day, Does it matter if you behaved decently, Or how much words or feelings you caved in? And how many things you've done? Do you take them to the night with you?

Where does society go at night? Are they laughing with their kids? Or are they dancing with their lovers? They must be in a safe place to forget all the nonsense. Or are they resting to continue the show next day?

Night is essential to remind you That there's stars hanging above your head What about in the morning? Oh, they're there!

— pas

[wingedpapercat]

I broke my heart in two. I named them 'harmony' and 'chaos'. They are everything that Each other are not.

Now that they are separated, Their only similarity is 'the difference'. The most powerful similarity In the world.

They don't know it yet; But they have a home, in each other. That's how universe balancing forces, That's how singularity works! By never letting anything divide.

They are twins. But to the eyes of misguided, They are god and devil. But to the eyes of universe, They are the same.

Someday, in some life, they will have to Stop running away from each other. They'll have to face the truth, To surrender to each other.

And where they look at each other Bearing the same feeling, Flowers will start to bloom on that ground. It'll be a home to innocence.

They'll bring another eden to life And they'll walk forever by each other's side.

— pas (Prophecy of a broken heart)

[wingedpapercat]

Ben Howard, Gracious.

[wingedpapercat]

Never waste a full moon! Moongaze w/ me while this playlist playing in the background 🐰🔭🌕

[wingedpapercat]

I'm sorry I ran from you.

I'm sorry our paths don't cross anymore.

I'm sorry I couldn't watch you grow.

I'm sorry I reappeared after all this time.

I'm sorry I confessed.

I'm sorry I couldn't get into your heart.

I'm sorry I don't remember your voice.

I'm sorry I made a mistake and every night I want to go back.

You deserve better,

You deserve me.

I'm sorry.

— pas (Regrets In Heaven)

[wingedpapercat]

Sunflower Told Me That...

Do you think sunflower like herself? Do you think she's happy at the end of every day? If yes, I have a news for you.

Sunflower told me that she's cursed to love the sun that she can't be together with,

And not to feel the light of others who counting the days to be with her. She cries to sleep most nights. Sunflower tries to stay positive until she cannot. Every day she's wishing the same miracle to happen, That is one day to kiss the sun. Which is impossible. She'll turn into ashes before she even get closer to the sun.

And everyone accuses her of having "high standards". But do those fools ever know when they truly love someone, death vanishes from their heart? That death is no longer a part of their reality? Truth is, sunflower is broken by the fact that she can never be with the sun. She's not arrogant or selfish, she's just misunderstood and hurt.

There must be an existence of a reality where her dreams are possible. Where all the sunflowers get to be with the sun. I wish her to live there, so she can hold his hand. So her dreams won't go in vain.

—pas

[wingedpapercat]

When The Time Is Right

She was there

For a long time

All this time

She witnessed

To all the pain

And all the happiness

Of each and every one

That walked on Earth

And she remembers

Everything

If you ever listen

She'll tell you

About the day

I first saw your face

She'll tell you

How much

I loved you

Most importantly,

How I wanted

You to die as

The happiest woman

On Earth

She'll tell our story

Long after we are gone

And someday some will hear it

And they'll see what you couldn't

And some will pray

Someday us to

Meet again

When the time is right.

— pas

[wingedpapercat]

Angels: "how long 'til you can see her?" And I'm like: "The sooner the better" Angels: "do you really think she will wait for you?" And i'm like: "there's no way to say and there's nothing i can do"

I Wish That I Could See You Soon // Herman Dune