idkwhyiamhereagainn

[idkwhyiamhereagainn]

Do you believe in telepathy?

Pursued (1947) dir. Raoul Walsh Shadow of a Doubt (1943) dir. Alfred Hitchcock

[idkwhyiamhereagainn]

this is the same moon my ancestors looked at and the same rain that fell on their skin

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its funny hearing someone say I really fear reading Dostoevsky's book, even if I have bought it

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The way my gaze lingered on him felt like ink striving to write a metaphor for the beauty it found in every glance.

[idkwhyiamhereagainn]

peace looks like a late reply without the guilt

[idkwhyiamhereagainn]

Never thought this is what longing tastes like when it’s reciprocated. This thread of longingness existed before you came into my life, but it kept stretching without my control once his soul got tied to me. I dream of him in the hues of this longingness and yearning, with silent tears and moans on my pillow before my eyes shut off to hear his whispers in the other world. The silence between us never brought a scratch of doubt about the love we hold for each other. The silence with him hit so deep after such a long night conversation we had once in a while. There is not a perfect balance between our silence and conversation, but still, our souls find their best way to balance themselves amidst these two. The endless nights of conversation never fail to make me see the stars even during the daytime. There’s something happening in the space we have between us. It’s too intricate to decipher using our minds, so now we leave this unknown essence between us flowing and let our hearts and souls be immersed in it.

I found his voice unrecognisable in person as we met each other after ages. Maybe it was because I wasn’t sitting in close proximity to him like last time. Whatever the reason, I was worried why his voice didn’t sound familiar to me. Has it really been that long since we met each other again? There were a lot of questions running in my mind, but the moment I looked at myself in his eyes everything felt quiet except my heart. I tried to read him in such moments of silence when he was in front of me, but our friends were filling the space with conversation and laughter.

I don’t know if it’s my insanity that drives me to dig deeper to find a home in his soul, or fate that leaves me with no home but him. The home where I find comfort without asking and which stays with me as long as I need it.

He felt like a mirage, and I let myself be immersed in his words and the way his gaze lingered on mine. He was a few breaths away from me, but he still felt like a dream that I could never touch but only adore from afar.

The moment passed by, and his hands brushed against mine in moments when our friends were walking ahead of us. He tried to hold my hand but couldn’t do it for more than a few minutes. I was craving his touch more than anything at that moment. I was laughing and cracking jokes, but little did he know my heart belonged to him at that moment. No matter how lively or quiet I looked in front of my friends, nothing could interest me more than the moon, rain, and tea in the car, and him constantly on my mind despite being near me.

The way his chest hair showed through his button-down shirt seized my attention at first glance. He looked more beautiful than ever. That ruthlessness and the effortless charm in his laughter and humour made me want to kill him. My friend found him attractive, not his friend, but I stayed quiet and nodded. I didn’t want to tell her how much I adored this little human bean. I didn’t mean he is short, but still a tiny being who is able to occupy such a big space in my heart. I tried not to get jealous whenever she was appreciating him, but I can’t control my heart always.

The way my gaze lingered on him felt like ink striving to write a metaphor for the beauty it found in every glance. Both of us tried to escape our friends and go for a walk in those lonely corridors. We could watch the rain together while letting our backs be supported by pillars, and I felt the need for the darkness more than ever. I remember this feeling and question always creeping in late at night whenever I’m in love with myself and the world but in peace. I didn't want to pause that moment but live it endlessly. Life is too short not to watch rain with your loved ones. Rain fell softly, visible in the glow of the streetlight, and I was embraced in his arms from the back until I smelled like him.

Before the rain, we were sweating as we walked down the street, the air heavy with humidity. He complained and prayed for a little wind, but was instantly kissed by the rain. While I was near him, his essence was mixed with the rain and his sweat, and unknowingly it was so intoxicating to my soul. It was his essence in the end. I tried to close my eyes and breathe in the fresh air and him while feeling the wind grazing my skin. I didn’t want to be anywhere but immersed in that moment, stitching myself to his bones. He was taller than me, so when I tried to lift my head and look into his eyes while he was holding my waist, at that moment a drop of rain kissed my lips and I closed my eyes as if it was a sign from God to make him kiss me. But did he kiss me at that moment? No. Anyway, it was so poetic to me. I didn’t know if he noticed it, but if he had, he shouldn’t have resisted brushing my lips with his fingers and caressing them better with a kiss a second after that.

I don’t remember us holding hands all the time when we were walking alone. I don’t know if he got uninterested or what, but I really wanted to hold his hand for the whole moment I could. I won’t ever forget the texture of his beard whenever it caressed my cheeks; it’s just so strong that it makes me feel the sensation on my soft cheeks. Despite knowing it’s strong, he grazes my cheeks softly. His beard feels like it’s trying to scribe some memories while he leaves adorable kisses on my cheeks. I curse him a lot, and hate him a lot, but the moment I see him I don’t know where my anger vanishes and turns into a soft dear when he locks his eyes into mine.

Whenever I hugged him, I wanted it to be tighter and longer. I was never satisfied. I don’t know why, but I just didn’t want to pull myself away at all from his touch.

I don’t know what made him decide to sit with me in the back of the car and let my friend take the front seat beside his friend. Trust me, I hate the GPS more than my morning alarms. The way it shows you how many more minutes are left to reach your destination just makes me feel down and down. But the way he was still able to hold me with one arm on my shoulder and let his hand slip inside my oversized tee a little to carefully caress my tummy. He’s not afraid to get caught by our friends. I could feel the same warmth that I had longed for since the last time he touched me in the winter. My head was on his shoulder, while our knees were touching each other subtly. He tried to kiss me but I just couldn’t allow him. I remember him kissing my eyes in his car the last time and again in the corridor.

I don’t think I’ll ever be normal about anything I like. I wasn’t able to sleep after coming back home. My body was tired, but my heart couldn’t stop beating for him, and his thoughts couldn’t escape my mind.

[idkwhyiamhereagainn]

The Language of Yearning

I don't remember when was the last night that my soul didn't have the stomach not to yearn. It's endless. As if this yearning knows all too well, the door is open for it at a point of the day and it won't miss the chance. Doesn't matter for how long it will stay, but it will always be welcomed.It will bring some feelings and get etched in a corner of the heart. No matter how hard I try to decipher it through my words, somehow I still feel it's trapped or am I. I find no one to rescue me here, except his presence. Sometimes his presence also fails to speak to my heart the way it yearn for him. I'm not angry but helpless at those moments.

The distance seems to deepen the love in my heart for him. But at the same time it worries me, “What if this yearning is the death of me?”

This yearning has its own language. A language where you don't know how to pronounce a single letter yet understand everything about it by heart.

You let it speak to your soul in the quiet or the noise. It comes to you at your will. The will of yours pulls it towards your heart and you ache helplessly. You let it eat your heart alive and at the same time feel grateful for the sensation of being alive as you feel its claw and teeth clenching your heart.

I don't know if I will ever cease from yearning. Before love and after love, I was taught this form by each and every soul I felt connected to in this lifetime.It feels like attachment, but no, it's more like grounding myself in the fragments of their memories and imagination. Attachment drives you insane, so does yearning. But you still become compassionate, understanding, and forgiving in nature.

Just the way you wait for them, and your heart yearn to be with them. It's like the devotion of your heart to something you thought was never going to be important to you. But now, it feels more like a breath to your life.It must have been so long since our eyes last laid upon each other.

But this heart—who can make it understand this fool?This little heart, overflowing with insanity and love for you, still feels you inside it, the very core reason for its flow.Hope is always running in the vein without much expectation. Hope makes it worth the reason to yearn for you and at the same time I know expectations will not cause anything but bleeding. No bandages will know how to stop it, and I'll be wounded in the name of love.

This yearning makes me feel closer to you more than you can think of. Your touch will not only embrace my skin the next time we meet, it will caress the unknown corner of my heart too fragile to be held by anyone. Our gaze will not only speak about desire but the longing we had for each other.Each and every breath of yours in the space between us will feel like a God residing there.The silence will feel like the paradise we sought on the earth after a long barefoot search for home across the strange folds of the earth.

[idkwhyiamhereagainn]

[idkwhyiamhereagainn]

Reminded me of this post...

sibling relationships are so strange... like i love you. you will never understand me in a way that matters. we are the same person in drastically different ways. we are sewn together. we don't talk. we are attached at the hip. you wish i was never born. can i call you. let's eat together. i forgive you. etc

[idkwhyiamhereagainn]

spending your whole 20s with Anaïs Nin as your muse will make you hungry for a passionate and poetically full life

[idkwhyiamhereagainn]

[idkwhyiamhereagainn]

sometimes I hear employed people talking about their day and they're like 'oh yeah I went to work, then watched two movies, read 40 pages of a book, made dinner, drove for 2 hours, went grocery shopping and out for drinks eheh" and then there's me, struggling to find time to eat and shower after work

[idkwhyiamhereagainn]

[idkwhyiamhereagainn]

It's not easy to leave your comfort, and to explore your curiosity is to endure hardships. Hardships aren't meant to toughen you, but to bring you closer to reality, reality that is neither good nor bad, but simply what it is. At first, your mouth may be full of complaints, but as time passes, you’ll see your eyes lighting up with a new kind of love you never thought could exist.

Just keep an eye full of curiosity and a heart full of patience. You'll find your soul filled with nothing but gratitude for where you are.

[idkwhyiamhereagainn]

[idkwhyiamhereagainn]

When we believe what we think, when we take our thinking to be reality, we will suffer. It’s not obvious until you look at it, but when we believe our thoughts, in that instant, we begin to live in the world of dreams, where the mind conceptualizes an entire world that doesn’t actually exist anywhere but in the mind itself. At that moment, we begin to experience a sense of isolation, where we no longer feel connected to each other in a very rich and human way, but we find ourselves receding more and more into the world of our minds, into the world of our own creation.

Falling into Grace

Adyashanti

[idkwhyiamhereagainn]

Visiting me often in my dreams makes me feel as if we’ve never truly parted in reality.