Tag Archives: emotionales

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Lord knows I haven’t been myself for quite a while now.And I even doubt if I’ve ever been completely myself. Everything that I always took for granted or thought I had made my mind up for a long time, now felt like on the verge of being shattered into a million pieces. Because for the past few years I’ve been doing my very best to live in either complete denial of my being or kill every sane thought or real emotion in heaps of alcohol or weed. And I got to that point of no return. Contemplating either suicide or getting back to some psychiatric facility for some alone time. Because I got to that point where I’ve been before. Alone. Insecure about the future. Emotionless. And not able to cope with pain.
All cut off from everybody and even myself. Not sure anymore what to think or feel. Betrayed by everybody and mostly myself. Everything I convinced myself to be true and full of faith for these past 10 years seemed so wrong. Ever since I cut the ties with my family I’ve been building my life for myself. Building it on shallow grounds. On the pretense of friendship and new founded families. Of newer love. But it was all pretense. Pretense I blamed many other people but was unable to cope with myself. For as I have never been able to be myself completely whilst still being a part of my family I now know I couldn’t be that as well after I cut those ties. Because I was and still am too afraid to trust anybody. It either be a family member or a friend that no matter what I hold very dear to my heart. I just can’t. The disappointment would be too much. And there has been too much shit in my life that I can’t share with just anybody. Considering also that the times I have shared, trusted somebody with whatever was under my surface, even little, it always came back and spat in my face.
Therefor I feel that these past 10 years have been a failure. This distance between blood hasn’t brought me the things I thought it would. It neither brought me happiness nor love. I simply couldn’t built my life the way I wanted it to be free from my family. All I actually achieved in these 10 years is that I’m now back at the point of feeling as bad as I was as a 15-year old for not being able to be me. But how could I, how can I be myself when I don’t even know or turn into words who the fuck I am, what I’m feeling or thinking?
Therefor I went back. Back to my blood. Back to the past. At least I feel somewhat loved here. The connection is too strong for anything less. Even though they are as racist, homophobic, paternalistic, militaristic, nationalistic and muslim as in my memories. But they are my family. And I need some time with them to make up my mind and to feel sure for whatever the future holds. To actually know whatever whoever I am. Maybe this will not be what I hope it will be, but somehow I need to know, need to feel right again. Regain some humanity. I only need to make sure I don’t end up married to some distant relative before that time comes.

For Hrant.

Today, January 19th 2010, it has been 3 years that Hrant Dink was brutally murdered. He was assassinated after years of being threatened, being ridiculed and hated upon. This was brought upon by nationalist, racist and fascist people, government and law. Till now only 5 people are under prosecution but there hasn’t been a verdict yet. It also seems clear that not only those 5 people are responsible for the murder of Hrant Dink.

Many more persons and even institutions inside the Turkish Republic are as such responsible. First and foremost for not protecting Hrant Dink for his right of freedom of speech and as one of the biggest fighters for Democracy in this country. But also for making it possible that there was a flood of hate against the man that only had the best in sight for a country that also he considered his home although he was from Armenian-Turkish descendant and therefor the victim of much racism. They are also responsible for hindering justice for the culprits behind the murder are still protected by those people and institutions and even are part of those very institutions that would make up this pretense of a democracy.

Thousands have stood, listening to friends and family of Hrant, this morning on the place where he fell. Thousands have walked Istiklal to ask for justice this evening. As they have done for several moments during these past 3 years. But still the culprits of the murder. The murder of the pretense of democracy. Are not even punished. They are being protected by whatever state calls itself a democracy. A democracy that can not even provide justice in a murder-case where evidence is very clear. Very clear that this Republic is rotten. Rotten by hatred. Rotten by the murder of innocents.

It is time that this passes. That this is cleaned up. That justice prevails. That democracy shines its light upon this country and that the hatred can be shot instead of those who want to bring peace and understanding. For Hrant. Because we’re all Hrant in this country. We’re all oppressed. We’re all Armenian.

iLove

That smell
It fills me with happiness
Happiness that brings back a memory
A memory of you

You lying on that pillow
That pillow I now cover my face in
My face that smiles entirely with only the thought of you

You who held my hand
My hand that you squeezed
Squeezed to let me know this was a moment beyond words

Words that can not tell the tale
The tale of love.
Love that is certainly not ment to be

Sil Baştan – Rojin

Gücün var mı sevgilim,
Derin sularda inci tanesi aramaya?
Cesaretin kaldıysa
Hala benle aşktan konuşmaya
Söyle canım sevgilim
Hayat bize oyun oynuyor olabilir mi?
Yorgun gibi bir halin var
Duyguların karışık olabilir mi?
Sil baştan başlamak gerek bazen
Hayatı sıfırlamak
Sil baştan sevmek gerek bazen
Herşeyi unutmak
Sanki bugün son günmüş gibi
Dolu dolu yaşamak istiyorum ben
Her ne çıkarsa yoluma
Selam verip yürümek istiyorum ben
Sil baştan başlamak gerek bazen
Hayatı sıfırlamak
Sil baştan sevmek gerek bazen
Herşeyi unutmak

Tears For Heaven

Many bitter tears I’ve shed tonight. Much shit has been spilled tonight. And it has been good. For the first time in a very long time – and maybe for the first time I’ve felt like myself. Myself. And that’s a bloody hard thing for me.

I’ve come a very fucking long way. I’ve moved here to Istanbul with the illusion to find myself. With the pretext that in Belgium I couldn’t find myself. Drawn back from reality. Far and far away from anything that felt even remotely real. Not even close to be myself. Not in identity. Not in Thinking. Not in feeling. Thinking it was the Western European Way of things. That that was what I couldn’t feel. But here. Where I built this illusion to be close to what i really am i can’t even get close to anything. I’m even further away from finding myself.

And that realization that everybody. Every fucking body here in Turkey is so fucking far away from their own identity. From their own feelings. That that coldness. That that embodiment of being closed down is everywhere. That is killing me.

After all these years of feeling excluded. Of feeling left out. Of thinking of differences I finally wanted to come home. To feel a part of something. But apparently even that seems impossible. There will always be a non)belonging. That’s for sure. As it i impossible to live in 2 worlds. There’s only 1 world. And I don’t belong. I don’t feel it. Therefor I shouldn’t be. Just not be.

Dear Flo

You were my first love. My biggest love. Maybe even my deepest love. And I’m stating this after 10 bloody years. I only wish I had this knowledge back then. But apparently these things only time can show. It might also be that the year 2010 is vastly approaching and that the turn of the decade is making me reflect on things. On what has happened during these past 10 years.

As much as i thought I would never make it past January 1st 2000, especially without you, I would have never imagined that I would make it into 2010. And now suddenly this is a possibility. And with this possibility my biggest reflection comes to mind. Love. And It’s driving me crazy like f*ck.

It’s not that I don’t know that I’ve been living love these past years. I’ve at least loved much. I’ve received much love. Maybe not returned those. But still. It’s a weird acknowledgment, but I have to make it still, that realization that after you I’ve never encountered love that was in any way like ours. It was never that pure. Never that total. Never that sincere. Never that passionate. Never that full. Never that much. And that somehow breaks my heart.  That missing out on that.

It only seems right that, considering circumstances and all, I would also deserve to encounter that kind of love. You did so why can’t I? Our was our kind of love the last we both deserved?

Rumi

Listen oh listen to my plaintive cry
Listen to my my longing or else I die
From the sweet home of my bed I was torn
So my pain and crucial longing was born.

With so many secrets I sing aloud
But none sees nor hears in this crowd
Oh for a friend to know my burning state
That our souls may mingle and contemplate.

The flame of Love discourses in me
The wine of Love so enforces me.
Do you wish to know the fire, the flow
Listen my listener then you shall know.

Mathnavi 1.1