H.B.D.

Disclaimer:Contains anything but a "happy birthday".

Have you ever felt like you have no land, no tounge, no ties?I have. Each and everytime i try to define myself by a nationality, by some language, some patriotic shit that would make me whole and settle i fail...epicly.

My thoughts flow in Turkish, even if i dream and manage to think in English, i suffer and laugh and joke and blush in Turkish. But also i whine and judge and yell in English...These are times to whine and judge and yell.


This is not an ode to the ones that have left, not a requiem for the ones that have been lost. This is not a good night song. In my room, there's only silence, the kind of silence that makes me want to write forever, the kind of writing that rips up my soul and puts it all together when i stop so that i can break again. The pieces are still missing. I take a glance at the wooden plackard with the image of Jesus and the "lost sheep". The sheep gets me.


I have the kind of emptiness that only the sheep and Leilah can understand. Like i once quoted her words from the movie "Lie with me", i spray my scent in the crowd too...and i wait...until i'm uncovered. I have memories to reminisce, a fucking whole year that seems like a long black-out...I have stories to tell...but if i told you everything you'd probably think i was a slut and i can't deal with that, so i'm not going to tell you absolutely everything. I'll tell stories so you stop acting like you know a shit, i'll pretend to tell you everything so you can write "your freedom is absolutely not the kind that is for me...but it suits you." in my freaking yearbook, i'll tell you stories about all the others so you can go collect the pieces that he shoved in his suitcase when he left.


I'll tell you stories so you can sing happy birthday.

The Fall

It all started over a year ago...then it kept coming back.that dark feeling that looked so lit up from the outside, it was almost like an internal depression. aren't they all internal?when you hit it you feel like the world is spinning around you...that everything is about you...which you wish you didn't. people call you selfish,good ones call you "fragile",others call you "attention freak" or at least "drama queen".

you don't care.you fucking don't care if they can't see how messed up you are.


funniest thing is you don't even realize if it's a depression or if you really are one crazy bitch who needs an excuse for her obsessiveness. it starts off with someone completely random,below the average, yet still either too good or too complicated for you. let's face it, i'm not too smart,or too pretty or even too talented for my league yet i'm aware that there's "something" about me. something that makes people make room for when i enter a room, something that makes guys ask for keys from their housemates and something that makes girls widen the circle when they're dancing.something worth knowing,worth fooling around. something called "sex appeal". everytime i find the object of my obsession i use this as a chance to maybe,mayyyy beee get him to let me get what i want (please,please,please...let me,let me get what i want,this time...). i want to scream outloud "dont you realize?you've gotta be my salvation!". each and everytime i find my self stupid enough to think of the guy as a Jesus effin Christ. i know that this happens, i see it happening, i even see myself, sometimes, standing at some temporal crossroads, some distinct moment at which i can walk away and keep it from happening, but i never do. i grab at everything, i end up with nothing and then i feel bereft. i mourn for the loss of something i never even had.

then the fall begins.i'm not afraid.i've been there many times, for weeks, for months, sometimes for just a couple of days.i like the feeling you get when you hit the bottom with your soul naked to the bones. i like the feeling of just being pure naked, this is an other thing about me. within the twenty four hours after meeting someone i have the abilty to spread my soul,my heart or even my legs wide open for them, i don't care what they think...i don't care if i'm one "too much information slut" to them. i'm looking for a chance to become invisible by being too visible. i'm the girl who joel in eternal sunshine for a spotless mind saw as "fucking people to make her love her." when falling, i'm a mix of elizabeth damn wurtzel and sylvia plath with a twist of clementine, and i don't even care if this counts as being cheesy.

i like the chill when i hit the ground, because i'm damn good at getting up. then i become me. me who feels no regrets but wants to give up on that worst part of me that sometimes feels like "all parts of me". when you hit that rock bottom you realize that everything before it was some sort of failure of vision. and when it ends you only wonder why the hell things used to look the way they did.

the fall...it all started over a year ago...then it kept coming back.