I’m standing here, on the firm ground reaching out so high I’ve been dreaming of flying to the skies where I can see my thoughts where I can unite with myself. Yet, I’m standing here chained like a horse running round and round with my neat shoes on I step into puddles wanting them to be mirrors.
Where do I go with my broken armor so indifferent still longing for something that has never been here.
born in rain streaming down my face drawn in a fantasy creating unreal realms revealed in sadness blackening the skies i cannot hold a single sphere dig a hole in the ground to pour my soul in
It’s getting cold. You wake up in the morning and get out of the bed with your cold feet you head to the window. You touch the cold glass trying to touch the sun, rising in the distance. Cold.
The weather has nothing to do with the cold that I carry in myself, though. It’s always been here. Never goes away. Never disappears. Like crystals of ice covering my skin. Why am I so cold?
You just need a little bit of fire, my dear, you would think. But I walked through the fire many times and never felt a stroke of warmth. My body’s weak. Starving. Barely breathing. Vanishing.
I need a hug. Where are you? Asking the only person who could hug me. You know no one else can do it. Do not touch me. Do not come any closer. How sad is that? Always in the arms of strangers.
What did you do to me? Never needed this. Touching, hugging, talking. Always fine on my own. What did you do to me? I picked the fruit from the tree, deep red, and I ate it forgetting how bitter it had been.
Maybe the Mother was right. Maybe I shouldn’t be on my own, after all.
Pretty little girl talking to you so innocent, so cheerful dressed in frills and smiles her blushed cheeks, her red lips What makes her real when you touch her hand she shyly looks in your eyes the look of an angel.
The things you see they’re not always real Not speaking, listening but you can’t really hear the thoughts. Sit straight, don’t breathe dress in white, always smile Walk like a lady do your nails, do your hair.
That’s all you see that’s all you want to know You never wonder about the story hidden behind You can’t really see how dark her soul is Marks under her skin carved by the rules.
Just leave your hair down let the wind to play with it Run barefoot between trees let your skin to be scratched Jump into the river let it steal your heart Sleep under the stars let them steal your dreams.
I make a move because I know you’re watching say things you want to hear but I don’t mean them I cover my head to hide but in fact I want to be noticed ignore you every day just to draw your attention.
That’s what you want to believe in. That’s your only explanation.
All the things that were supposed to make me authentic, made me fake.
Do you know that feeling when someone from your surroundings suddenly decides to leave? One of your colleagues, your friend, a member of your family.
Then everyone gathers for a leaving party in a garden or pub. There is music on, people are chatting, drinks on the table. Familiar scents hit you and you just want to have a good time in a good company, not thinking about tomorrow. Because tomorrow will arise in different places for both of you.
Everything what’s good must end eventually, apparently, suddenly. And you’re left only with what’s uncomfortable and bitter. Left with responsibilities.
That party ends tonight and everyone has to say ‘goodbye’, so you also say ‘goodbye, I’ll miss you’ and you really mean it because you feel like you liked that person. At that time…
Are you really going to miss them?
You wake up the next day, drink coffee and go to work. You have your own life to live. Do you give a second thought to them, since they far away and you’re probably not going to meet again? Where is he? What is she doing when she’s not here?
The truth is, I rarely miss people, even though I say it out loud, even though I feel like I could. When you speak and speak. When there’s no end. When you ask and ask, but you don’t want to know about things that no one wants to know about. When you’re not someone special to me, I will not, actually, miss you. I don’t miss you.
In a midday of a rising sun there was no sun to warm me up the cold embraced me, soaking me deeply. Words floated into the air messing up with the thoughts unspoken which never wished to come out. Forced, they sank deeper and deeper a lie lingering on my tongue made me believe the words were true. You were there in front of me heavy like a stone in my chest cold like ice in my heart. Numb. The wind was everything you wanted always desired by everyone while I still was a rotten tomato. With every step I take I balance on edge perfectly fine sure no one is there to catch me. Even with you by my side the sadness is still there when I look at myself with your eyes. I’ll always look at you with envy your thin arms around me your silhouette in the background. I’ll always be one step behind you following like a ghost, invisible between trees that belonged to both of us. So differently alike we shared our misery and secrets that everyone could see and they said nothing. I said something not anything wrapping my scarf around your neck suddenly left hollow, empty.
I wish no one ever told me that I’m beautiful. Ever.
Because what is beauty? Is it really something you can see? Is it something you can touch?
I look in the mirror and I see a human, a woman with a face and body. I’m perfectly normal. What makes me beautiful in your eyes?
My Dear Grandmother, you told me once that my beauty is my worth. You weren’t talking about the real beauty, though. You meant the physical appearance. And people have been calling me beautiful ever since. I believe them, so I enter a room and I want to be admired, I want people to notice me, I want people to talk about me. If they don’t, my life is done. I’m done.
I put too much effort in something that doesn’t exist, in something that most of the people don’t care about. I’m drawn on a wall where you can see me, indeed, but in fact you cannot speak to me at all. I’m fake, made of paper.
I wish you never called me beautiful.
How should I live up to that now? You’ve ruined my life… You’ve ruined my life because you make me want to be beautiful. But I’m done. I won’t put a lipstick on only because society expects me to.
Have you ever felt like you said one word too much? You know, when you speak to someone you barely know and you accidentally share something personal?
I’ve done it too many times. Then I’d analyse my every word and wish that conversation had never gone that way. It makes you wonder what that person is going to think about you. Will they care? Will they pass it on to someone or forget about it?
But how else to start a friendship? You must share some of you in order to make friends with someone.
I don’t make friends easily. I’m an introvert, which means I’m usually quiet around people. It’s more difficult to get to know me. I choose words carefully and say only the necessary ones. That doesn’t mean I have nothing to say. I do. But the things I want to say don’t interest most of the people. When I start, I’m not able to stop. Then there comes a logorrhea. And the logorrhea doesn’t make any sense…
Funny thing. I speak to people, but they can’t really understand the words I’m saying. That constant overthinking the purpose of my life on this earth. (Wherever I go, whatever I do, the philosophical sh*t is always with me). Apparently, most people don’t think about it. They just live.
Whenever I feel like I shared too much from myself, I want to crawl back into my shell and disappear. I grow distant and cold to the person I confided in, and that takes me right to the very beginning. That ruins the whole idea of a friendship.
Do you like yourself? Do you like the way you look?
I know most young people struggle to accept themselves for what they are. I’m not that young anymore, though, I’ve lived with myself for a few decades now. I’ve accepted my body, finally realising that’s the only thing I was given that truly belongs to me. I’ve learned how to like some of my qualities. I’ve stopped comparing myself to others. At least, I thought so.
Women sometimes seek men who admire them, so that they could find affirmation in those men’s eyes. Sometimes these women are looking for acceptance in someone else because they don’t know how to accept themselves.
In my case, it was the opposite. I fell for a man who hadn’t seemed interested in me. I felt good with myself, but I wasn’t good in his eyes. So I started questioning my appeal. I started spending more time in front of a mirror because I wanted to look my best. I started comparing myself to the women that were around him.
Look at her. She’s much prettier than me. Her skin is smooth, her hair is shiny, her legs are longer, she’s taller, she’s more feminine, she’s mysterious. Why would he want me, if she’s much better than me?
It seemed like he’d taken everything away from me. I didn’t want to be me anymore…
Deep down I knew, though, that the thoughts were ridiculous. Why should I rely on his judgment? Why should I seek validation from him?
I’ve always been content being on my own until you came along – Kora
Are co-workers your friends? I doubt it. They’re just co-workers. Some of them you like more, some less, about most of them you don’t really care.
There is that guy at work who always says ‘Good morning’ to me, every day. We’re not friends or anything. We only speak about things related to work. I sort of like him for that. He’s always polite, and his smiley face is like the sun in a rainy day.
I remember one morning. I was really tired after a night full of nightmares. The only thing I wanted that day was to be invisible. Then the storm arrived and destroyed me. I didn’t respond to his ‘Hi’.
My head was spinning, I wasn’t myself. But this wasn’t supposed to be an excuse. I was really rude to someone I liked, to someone who was always nice to me. He didn’t deserve to be treated like this. I heard him say that, yet I decided to ignore him. Why? My moodiness has no limits.
I regretted my ignorance right away. I wanted to fix it, but I really didn’t know how. It was too late. Everything I built in myself collapsed. I can only imagine how bad he must have felt. He must have wondered how possibly he had offended me that I showed him such ignorance. He must have thought it was his fault.
(On the other hand, I might be completely wrong about him. Maybe this situation didn’t have any impact on him. Maybe it didn’t touch his feelings at all. After all, I was just another co-worker whom he just has to be nice to.)
You see, you never really know what impact you have on someone’s life until you hurt them.
How does the story end? Turns out his kindness was real. Real and more powerful than my moodiness and ignorance. I feel like I don’t deserve it… That made me realise I should appreciate more the people in my life.
Why is he the first thing in my mind when I wake up? I don’t like it.
OK. It’s time to admit it. I have a big crush on him. It happens and there’s not much I can do about it.
I’ve no idea how and when it even happened. I just started talking to him more often, observing him, thinking of him. The fact that I am near him almost every day doesn’t make it easier. I try not to stare, not to seek, not to desire. I keep telling my heart that the feelings are unwanted by me, that I want them to be gone. But it doesn’t work. You cannot argue with your heart. A fight with your heart is always a lost fight.
What do I actually feel, though? What is a crush? I’ve always felt that being on my own was my destiny. I’ve never felt like I needed someone in my love life. Don’t get me wrong. I really liked a few men in my life, but it never lasted long. I had some sort of feelings for them, but they never felt… right.
Is it different this time? Have I forgotten what a romantic love is? No and no. People say that humans are social species and I agree to that. Everyone craves human contact. But for different people it looks differently. I’ve been telling myself I didn’t need anyone in my life that I actually believed in it. But my heart didn’t. Apparently. In consequence I found myself drawn to a person like him. His face was pretty and friendly, voice warm, posture welcoming, manners blameless. There is no surprise then that my dark and cold self has chosen the light and warmth which it could absorb in to my body.
Thinking of him much, I’ve already created a picture of a kind and warm man who is willing to sacrifice everything for their loved ones. A hero. A man who takes you in his strong arms and kisses you gently, hugs you when you most need it.
That picture is fake, though. I don’t know that man that well. I actually don’t know him at all. I know nothing about him apart from his warm eyes and friendly smile. That picture just came along. Showed me what I craved.