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V Jul 2017
I don't know how I managed to love you. It wasn't you. It was me. I had a heartbreak that nearly made me numb for the rest of my life. I felt too much that I almost felt nothing at all. I was hurt. No, damaged. Emotionally and mentally. I looked happy, perhaps happy is an overstatement for the act I've put on so let me rephrase, I looked... normal. Sad on some days. But no one would have guessed that the ache in my heart was extremely painful I could physically feel it. I tried looking for ways to help myself but there was no medication that could get me back on my feet. And then I tried meditating but of course, I crashed into tears every time I stood up to pray. I asked God to help me and to heal my heart. I couldn't understand what kind of love would do that to you. I doubt it was love at all. I wish I could say that I'm simply exaggerating while describing my situation back then. I wish I could make it sound beautiful, like in the movies, or at least make a story out of it. But no, see, it was the furthest thing from beautiful and it is the last thing I would want to romanticize. I was broken, and then I was fine again. I helped myself, I took care of myself. I simply gave myself all the time and attention I needed. And I've sworn not to fall in love with anything temporary. I would fall in love with books and fictional characters and my own daydreams but never with something that could be taken away from me, never with a person. Especially since it's not guaranteed. But then, you showed up. I promise I had no intention of loving you. Until this very day, I wish I could stop it because my love for you brought us apart. My passion. My eagerness. And my desire. Then your coldness. Your carelessness. And the way it put out my fire. My dear, I'm not here to tell you about the things you did or didn't do. I'm not here to right your wrongs or point out your flaws. I'm here to tell you that you gave me a feeling that there is still a glimpse of hope. There is still some good left in the world. There is still, the tiniest possibility of soulmates finding each other. There is love. And my love, it is important. I'm here to tell you that rather than bringing out a side of me that everyone had the privilege of meeting, you brought out the worst in me. You showed me what it's like to have someone **** you off to the extreme but still, you wouldn't trade them for the world. You showed me a deeper connection and the true meaning of friendship. You showed me, in months, what someone else would fail to show me in years. You had the kind of laugh that made me believe that there is an ending to all my bad days. After hearing your laugh, anything negative would be eliminated out of my mind. You had eyes that struck me to death. You had that one-in-a-million killer smile and curls I could get lost in. You were exquisite. Out of the ordinary. You still are. And I think you always will be. You made me want to write again, to feel again and to experience again. I promise you, you made me want to sing at the top of my lungs to songs I don't even listen to and smile at strangers and talk about what bothers me. You made me head over heels for you. But then, you made me want to drop everything and leave. And although we lost touch, know that I love you still.
V Jun 2017
I feel like I write the most when I'm hurt
which makes sense because
after all
a person must be pushed past their limits to
create
fight
struggle
bleed
live
and create some more
V Jun 2017
Actually, I do. I do want to talk. To understand. To dance and not care if someone's watching. To inspire. To become. To evolve. To be different. Extraordinary. To put limits. To be so close yet so out of reach. To know when to trust and when to step back and when to walk away. To value my words before they travel from my brain and out of my mouth. To make people happy. To spread positive vibes. To stop caring and explaining myself when it's not needed. To push the foot break slowly and gently. To achieve all the goals I have set. To be smarter than the average. To be closer to Allah. To keep in mind that life is not real yet still enjoy every bit of it. To fall in love and have it last a while. To sky and scuba dive. To overcome my fear of the ocean. To meet different cultures. To speak my mind openly to people. To be the first of my country to visit space. To expand my knowledge. To pay my parents back. To visit the world. To defeat the obstacles. To live. To die knowing that I did.
V Jun 2017
No, but why? Why did I spend all those days tucking myself away, hiding under a pile of my own insecurities, convinced that no other person in the world is like you and that my eyes will only ever search for you. Why? When you didn't and couldn't have felt that way about me, at least not anymore. Why? When you were so valuable to me but God knows what I meant to you. Who are you? And why was I depressed over you when you're not one bit worth it?
V Jun 2017
my mind is occupied
I don't want to write about it
I just want to push the idea of it backwards and backwards in my mind until the thought settles down in a dusty corner
with spider webs
I want to put it in a file with a sign on it that says 'do not open'
I want to eliminate the thought of it out of my head
but of course it's not and never will be that simple
so the right thing to do is wait for it to pass like it never happened
trying not to think about something
will only make you think about it more
and surely 'in order for a wound to heal you must stop touching it'
I will stop touching images of the past and rearranging them in my mind I will stop living in delusions
and I will not give discomfort the benefit of making itself at home within me
my body is my vehicle
my soul is my start engine
and I'm the only one in control
V Jun 2017
sometimes I wish it would all stop
pause
I wish that my existence would vanish
just for a little while
and while I'm gone
everything else falls back into place
brokenness finds repair
bitterness finds forgiveness
brutalness finds kindness
danger finds safety
time and memories agree
war and love shake hands
hate and peace share hugs
V Jun 2017
the most lethal form of self-destruction is breaking yourself to fix someone who is incapable of repair
- what's broken will remain broken, fix yourself instead
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