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Drowning in dreams and denial 🦢

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And I'm a garrulous voice, lost in countless chirp, loud and clear in clamorous vain, rain is pouring, my heart is roaring, hear me! hear me, my beloved! Come and heal my ache, I'm waiting for you, every spring and summer, infest my soul, my love, please come home.

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And, Ironically, I feel I need him. I need a father. I need a mother. I need some older, wiser being to cry to. I talk to God, but the sky is empty, and Orion walks by and doesn't speak.

-Sylvia path

Went out driving on the familiar roads I used to travel for last decade, after a long set of days, things have changed so much, new builidings, new shops, renovated old places, it feels odly familiar yet I don't know anything there anymore, but few parts haven't changed that drastically. There is a melancholy that rests between my memory and what the world is evolving into. The growth is impeccable but the immense detachment from it all, is loud. I don't know what I wish for. There is a warmth, careless in the youth that's gone, I want to feel that again. I want to talk to someone, but even the sky is empty.

-xoxo

Z.

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ICE CREAM DELIVERY!!! give ice cream to your favorite bloggers and help them stay cool this summer 🍦

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🍨< for you

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i and her belonged to same womb, we carry the same wounds, just different eyes and different circumstances. I wish i could tell her and we could have a laugh about it all, we could have woven our pain into a tapestry of something normal. the destruction has happened long ago, there is no hope for us to build something anew on rotten land anymore. but i hope a miracle someday, i hope she finds a cure of her loneliness, or i do and we help each other out of this pit or something like that.

i think one thing i have understood in past few months is that my mother is not an angry woman, not inherently, she is tired, and her resentment towards the world has built into something ugly, she is lonely, lonelier than me, she had been for such a long time, carrying the burden of image and family and pride and holding onto whatever strong persona she had to be when she was a child, she had no choice, unlike me, also like me. i am a breathing sculpture of her fate, im living her life at different intensity in different generation and she has tried to make me not like her but she also has made me like her. she is so unaware of everything she has suppressed, she is now a monster but not a monster that is inhumane, cruel, etc for fun but a monster who doesnt know why it became as so. and everytime i see her act a little childlike i feel like crying, she is just a woman, who was a child, who had to grow up before it was time and it kills me a little how awfully close i am to her yet we are so far, standing at crossroads with each other. i wish i could call her maa and not want to cut my tongue, i wish she could call me meri bachi and mean it, i wish we could hug for once.

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i think one thing i have understood in past few months is that my mother is not an angry woman, not inherently, she is tired, and her resentment towards the world has built into something ugly, she is lonely, lonelier than me, she had been for such a long time, carrying the burden of image and family and pride and holding onto whatever strong persona she had to be when she was a child, she had no choice, unlike me, also like me. i am a breathing sculpture of her fate, im living her life at different intensity in different generation and she has tried to make me not like her but she also has made me like her. she is so unaware of everything she has suppressed, she is now a monster but not a monster that is inhumane, cruel, etc for fun but a monster who doesnt know why it became as so. and everytime i see her act a little childlike i feel like crying, she is just a woman, who was a child, who had to grow up before it was time and it kills me a little how awfully close i am to her yet we are so far, standing at crossroads with each other. i wish i could call her maa and not want to cut my tongue, i wish she could call me meri bachi and mean it, i wish we could hug for once.

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and I had the weirdest thought today, it felt like I am still inside, waiting for you, to live my life again.

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I'm so uncomfortable in my skin, In my bones everything feels stuck, that everything around me is starting to decay. The flowers have been rotting, the leaves are wilted, the paper is crumbled and the water has evaporated, my paints are dried. Nothing makes sense anymore, the yellow is now grey, why are you still here? why do you want to stay?

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so you know the funny thing is If I love someone, I would imagine them leaving me over and over again, break my heart so many times all by myself, to make sure I know the reality that one day they will leave(they won't) (you promise?) (they can't please)(please..) to make sure I don't go through intense heartbreak, I will make sure I am not attached in a way that affects me for more than 3 days. Maybe sometimes I just make up so much stories in my mind I forget what's real and what are my own lies and I trust in them more and hurt myself and leave people, cause yeah. Running away is easier to me, I know its bad and its just a flimsy excuse that my life sucks, I am just selfish like that. So I am sorry to everyone I gave up on, I am sorry I never can stay, I am sorry to take this easy way.

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Babe the kind of songs we called ours now sound so flawed, what do I do with the memories that are butchered and broken- a kaleidoscopic dream. The inside jokes that has no one to laugh and all the goals that have no celebration awaiting. The intimacy of you being in my sufferings to becoming one of them. The simplicity that calmed me now gripes me, I'm turning blue everywhere I go, with imprints of infliction, for asking so much from someone so less.

I told my friend how I don't remember your face or voice anymore but still miss the feelings- while omitting the details, of the way your presence lingers in my daydreams, your absence seeps into my coffee, the silence that stays between me and the voice in my head that was yours, trying to solve the enigma of your actions, finding similarities between every stranger I cross and the stranger I loved once, praying for your life to be happy but hollow.

To keep my love soft around the edges, I twist it into anger. I am tired of carrying it all, but I have no place to have it rot, where do I dig the grave for the pain to rest, nothing is untouched by you, and yet nothing of me was seen by you, the irony of my lover. I feel confused ever so, whenever I hate you and what you did, I still can't stop to love you, the glory of us, the misery of my.

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It feels cynical, to think of love at step, a search for it at every nook and cranny my eyes can reach, trying to cross the checklist of wants with one impossible task, to get infested by the poison that might cure my sickness in a twisted way. I stand conscious in the middle of crowd waiting for the eyes that could feel like home. Like a guard dog searching for drugs, I sniff in every direction, dissecting every interaction in hopes of finding a hint of romance I can hold on. / It's feels ugly, the heaviness of desire to be seen, for once and for all. It's violent to my well being, wanting a cure for a condition I have never escaped. I drive my life forward, stealing glances at the empty backseat, a dense ache settles in my lungs thinking of all the promises that was left to be undone. Longing for a feeling I was really close once, in a dream. Loneliness bites me at places where love left it's traces. / Desperation in me sits like a crown waiting to be worn by love. I am so tired, so tired that I wail and moan each and every night about it. I think it's written in the stars, for me to stay like this, therefore I think I will always live my life waiting for a place to belong, that might never exist, I will exercise all my strength for the fleeting sense of belonging. Until one day, fatigue burns out all the foolish hopes and I will end it all with a resigned sigh. Adios, mi amor.