The bleak days I get stuck in
When I can see only the lonely roads
Which my legs refuse to even walk,
let alone run
The hopelessness clouding my spirits
To wish for the life of a fish instead
I petition to the goddess,
If she is ever there,
Tell me what it’s all for.
We never really know how our actions will affect them,
how it would turn out to be.
How badly our ghosting could break the strings attached.
Walking away without realising there is going to be someone,
at least one person,
losing their trust in you.
And you never knew you’d be the one regretting it later.
Wish I could have thought about it then.
To be scared of losing what they have with you,
to express that they are scared of losing you,
to be mindful of your mental state,
to keep checking on you…
isn’t that a showcase of the value they hold for you?
And what did I do to lose such people in the end?
I failed to look them in the eyes,
to look into their hearts,
all along.
For making me feel seen in a land far from home, in a completely foreign land, for acknowledging that I exist too, for accepting me however I am
it unlocked something deeper in me, something that had shut down without further notice.
Is that what makes the thought of leaving this place so worrisome?
Because this is the place where I could finally be whatever I wished to be.
What should I call this land?
The land of acceptance? The land of belonging?
Das Land des ,,Ichseins’’ ?
After finishing up a task, an exam, or some work, do you all feel accomplished, or does it start to feel like you are not relevant anymore?
The fear of being irrelevant – to the job, to people, of losing meaning.
Is it just a rare mental issue, or is it allgemein? Is it everywhere?
We don’t want them to apologise.
We don’t need them back in our lives.
We don’t want them to see our significance.
We just want them to know what they did to us.
We want them to know that it was cruel.
We want them to be in our shoes and feel it.
Feel the pain of the hole they bore in us.
The burning hole, growing bigger, aching unbearably.
We want them to be burnt by it too.
How are female friendships affected by men’s preferences?
Why should we be so concerned about the perspectives of our spouses over our friendships? Why should we be so anxious about their acceptance of our friendships, even female friendships?
This choking feeling of not being ourselves, and of even having to be mindful around our best pals because of our spouses, is a sample of the still-prevailing boxing of a misogynistic society.
So much pity for those females
The endlessly pleasingly dependent lives we have
In the name of?
The job we can’t quit
The freedom we can’t have
At the end of the day, to have what?
Where to search for liberty if we can’t find a way to live life on our terms
Who are we living as – ourselves or others?
When it gets hardest, where do we go?
What is more expensive – the maze or freedom?
Their derogatory remarks and the sudden glimpse into how they see the world can be terrifying enough to make you quietly distance yourself. For a moment, your perception fractures, you look at yourself in the mirror and wonder if you fall into the category they condemn.
It’s like a mind virus, spreading faster than a forest fire.
Touching someone’s life, especially someone who is naive and untouched, can cost them far more than it costs us. They may gain an experience, yes, but if we don’t handle them with care, we might leave behind a hurt that stays.
People who carry gentleness and kindness aren’t meant to be damaged. They are rare.