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پست‌های کانال
Increasingly, I find that doing the things you want is just...kinda... anticlimatic.
There are a few things that genuinely light my soul up, like building on my projects and novel things like meeting new people and going to new places.
But am I damned to do damned if not? If I do these things regularly, then they get worn out, and each completed project was kinda anticlimactic (except for the most project) too.
But I'm not discontent. I have inner peace. But this is just a new chapter is all; splashing in the ocean of void and existentialism.
Utterer: @virtualmatter
| 2 | The world that burns in front of my unnaturally darkening face warms my frigid hands.
Where does my silver lining lie?
All I see is crumbs of peace wrapped in razor sharp bows,
Not worth any of the deep cuts.
I am a mime crying over the same life size box,
Shuddering from the anticipation of muffled crescendos,
Afraid of rushing into a room with a wall painted with pretty colors,
But at least my hands keep their warmth.
And I seek solace in all the wrong places,
In molded euphorias.
The palms I used to trace find me disdainful,
And my deaf ears can no longer hear the psalms,
But I can now juggle multiple thoughts with one hand free
Do you smell silver?
A sliver?
I am with a heavy heart that gets heavier and fuller with all the wrong things each minute,
And a restless soul that can’t wait to hold nose and drown in it.
But at least my hands are warm. | 53 |
| 3 | …but before we could collide and annihilate, a razor as thin as a Planck length…
You and I forcibly split right at the altar of the cosmic blade of the event horizon.
I feel you even though one of us fell and one got flung,
Your words from infinity away tickle my drums like songs unsung.
We were but a moment,
The tiniest.
But what a moment we were!
An infinitesimal fraction of a second,
But the most unimaginably infinite beauty fitted with in.
Unseen wonders that words would tar,
That is what we are,
Were,
What we were.
We were,
Weren’t we?
The prettiest instant?
Colorful whispers from the very amygdala of the ever expanding universe?
And yet now, it is only I, it is only you, in an irreversible movement in reverse.
While in words that can only be felt by an imagined heart, we still converse.
Darling tell me,
Which one of us got flung, and which one of us fell?
I genuinely cannot tell. | 109 |
| 4 | Annum.
Have you found the tree that grows the fruit of love yet?
Does it shade better than others from your past?
Do you converse with its leaves?
Are words tattooed on their greenness?
Are they even green?
I don’t care እሺ.
Okay, maybe a little bit.
ሳይበዛ በስሱ.
Do you hear nebulae crack in the distance from where you’re at?
Or is it that peaceful and quiet there?
Have you found a way to stand still ወይስ are things still spinning around you?
Have you found the tree of love yet?
It’s fruit?
Have your teeth found its flesh?
ወይስ have you become meat for vicious wolves in your unrelenting pursuit?
I don’t care እሺ.
Okay, maybe a little bit.
በጣም በትንሹ.
-Katsujinken- | 120 |
| 5 | The days feel so long,
Stuck in a house where I don't belong.
No job in my hands, no map for my mind,
Searching for a future I can't seem to find.I live with my family, but pay a high cost,
In the quiet of my bedroom, my spirit is lost.
Their walls feel too heavy, their words feel too loud,
My peace is the price for the rent I’m allowed.My mental health fades in the weight of their gaze,
As I drift through the fog of these beautiful days.
I don't want riches, or a grand golden door,
I just want a space where I'm safe on the floor.But sometimes I leave, and the air becomes clear,
As soon as I walk from the things I hold dear.
A spark in my chest, a smile on my face,
The moment I steps out of that crowded space.Away from their roof, I can finally breathe,
Counting the moments until I can leave.
Just wanting to fly,
To find my own home underneath the blue sky.
Lost girl
By: ወጣት ሴት | 160 |
| 6 | Dear October,
Have you ever felt like you’re consuming yourself entirely too fast?
Like you were meant to last eons but ውስጥሽን አኝከሽ ከዛ ዋጥ?
ያለማቆም, ያው until entropy forces you to stop.
Until your bones are no longer bones,
Until the essence of you is irretrievably lost.
Until not even your name noticeably survives,
Until memories of you get swallowed up as if you never existed in all those pretty lives.
Not even in ashes,
Not even in dust,
Until you fall with such passion as if it was a must.
Have you ever felt like you’re consuming yourself entirely too fast?
That you chew and you gnaw as if it was written that you’d undoubtedly last.
ቁርስ!
እኝክ!
ዋጥ!
እግዚኦ!
ቢንፈራገጡ እንኳን የማይወጡበት ማጥ.
ይታይሽ ጭካኔ, ከራስ ጥርስ በፀሎት የተረፍኩት እኔ,
ካንቺ ጥርስ ተጠጋሁ, ልታኘክ በፈቃድ, ሳልፈራ ኩነኔ.
እንዳሻሽ እንግዲ, አንቺን ካልደበረሽ, ልቤን ለቁርስ ምሳ,
ጥፋቱ ከኔ ነው, ራት ሰዐት ሳይደርስ ነፍሴ ብትከሳ.
Michael | 170 |
| 7 | My beloved
I didn't know how to mourn you. When the grief hit, I hid somewhere so no one could see or hear me cry. I felt unworthy to mourn you so openly, so loudly, as the others did. You were their son, their brother, their friend.
እኔስ? ምን ብዬ ልጩህ? ማን ብዬ ልጠራህ?
Some thought I was your ex. If only I had the honour. "I'm his friend," I lied to others, knowing you were way more than that. But what then?
I learned the importance of labels that day. In times of joy and despair, they give you honour and a place. And while you occupied so much of my heart, I had no name.
I loved you quietly, from a distance. And so I mourned you quietly, from a distance.
ወይኔ, የእኔ ውድ! የምወድህ!
I will keep my grief a secret and my screams muted. And I will weep silently for my beloved.
- Bella | 150 |
| 8 | ስሙኝማ:-
በጨዋታ ጨዋታ፣ በወሬ ወሬ፣ በሐሜት ሀሜት ሰዎች እያነሳን እንዲህ አደረጉ በዚህ ገቡ በዚህ ወጡ እንላለን እንሰማለን። ወሬው ትንሽ መጥፎ ነው የተባለው ሲመጣ እጃችንን በአፋችን ሸፍነን፣ ከንፈራችንን በትንሽ አጣመን ፣ ከደረቀው ምላሳችን ምራቅ አንጠፍጥፈን .... "ቱ! እንዴት ሰው ትንሽ አያፍርም?! ለምን እንደዚህ ያደርጋሉ፣ እንዴት እንደዚህ!!" "ይሄኮ ብልግና ነው" አቤት ከመሬት ውሃን እናራግፋለን፣ ለድክመታቸው የበትርን ፍርድ እናነሳለን። ሴቲቱን በድንጋይ ሊወጉሩ እንደመጡ፣ በራሳቸው ሀጥያት ፈርተው ሳይነኳት እንደተመለሱ እንኳ ገሸሽ አንልም። በሀጥያት የታጠብን አይመስለንማ።
እራሴን ተመለከትኩ:
ከወዳጄ እያወጋሁ " አይገርምም አስተማሪው ለውጤት ከተማሪ ገንዘብ ተቀበለ!!" ምኑ አዲስ ሆኖብኝ እንዳወራሁ አሁን ነው ጥያቄ ሚሆንብኝ
" ባክሽ ይመቸው ..."
"ማለት ምን ማለት ነው? እንዴት ይጠይቃል" ቀበጣጠርኩኝ ውስጤን የሆነ ነገር ሲያኝከኝ ይታወቀኛል። መፍረዴን፣ በሰውዬው ስህተት እኔ ልክ መሆኔን ለማሳየት ተፍጨረጨርኩኝ ቢብሰኝ
"አንድን ነገር የማድረግ ስልጣን ያለው ሰው ለማድረጉ ክፍያ ከሚጠይቅ እንዲደረግለት የሚልገው ይጠይቅ" አለኩኝ 😭 አሁን ይሄ ምን ይባላል?? ማሰብ ነው አለማሰብ??
ከብዙ ጨዋታዎች በኋላ፣ ከወሬውም ከስንብቱም አለፍ ብዬ እንደጨረጨሰች አሮጊት በብርድልብሶች ተጀቡኜ ከራሴ ጋር ተፋጠጥኩ
"በእርግጥ አሁን አስተማሪው ምን ጎሎት ነው ብር የሚጠይቅ? ደሞዝ ይከፈለዋል ሁለት ሶስት ኮሌጆችም ያስተምር ይሆናል....."*
"በእርግጥ ቤተሰብ አስተዳዳሪ ቢሆንስ?? ሁለት፣ ሶስት ልጆች ቢኖሩትስ ?! የስንት ሰው ጉሮሮ መድፈን አለበት..."
"ተበድሮ መክፈል አቅቶት ነው?"
" ወይስ ጥላው ከሄደችው ፍቅሩ ለመተንፈስ የሚጠጣበት አጥቶ እነደው...."
"እናቱን የሚያሳክበት ወይስ መድሀኒት መግዣ...."
"ወይስ በፍትወትና በድካም የዛለው ሰውነቱን ማስታገሻ..."
ምንም ይሁን ግን እንደው ልማድ ነው ብንል እንኳ የፈለገውን ለማግኘት መጠየቅ ያለበትን ጠይቆ አግኝቷል ነገሮች ሲመቻቹ መመንተፍ ካለበት መንትፏል፣ ነክሶ ቦጭቆ ወስዷል🤷🏾♀
እኔ አልኩኝ፥ ቅድም እንደዛ ሽንጤን ገትሬ በወንጀልነው ገመድ ወገቤን ታጥቄ ስከራከር፣ ለሰውየው የፍርድ በትር ሳነሳ.....🧐እኔ በሱ ቦታ ብሆን፣ የማድረግ ስልጣን፣ የነገሮችች መመቻቸትን ባገኝ በእውነት እኔስ እምራለው ሆይ??!! አሁን ላይ መዋረዱን ፍርሃቱን መያዙን ከንጽህናዬ አስቀጥዬ ደረደርኩኝ እንጂ አለ አ ("ሲጀመር ይሄ ሌብነት ነው! የሰው ላብ መጠጣት በሰው ወዝ ለመወልወል፣ ትልቅ ወንጀል፣ ብልግና ነው....." ቀጠል አደርግና "...እሺ ለትልቅ ምክንያት ቢሆን እንኳ ሰው እንዴት አይፈራም፣ ይሉኝታ አይዘውም፣ ሼም ሸምቀቅ አይደርገውም፣ ቢያዝዝ፣ ውርደቱስ....") የምክንያት ጋጋታ ደረደርኩኝ እንጂ በኔ አይብስም ነበር?? ዘንጥዬ ዘንጥዬ ነበር የምለቃቸው
ይቺ ነች ሰላም ነስታ ከጨለማ ያፋጠጠችኝ!! ላለማድረጌ ምን ያህል እርግጠኛ ነኝ እኔ በሱ ቦታ ብሆን ?? ብዞዎቻችን እንዲ ነን 😁 ላለመናከሳችን ጽድቃችንን ከላይ እንደ ካባ እንደርባለን፣ ጥርስ እየሌለን እንደአንበሳ እንጮሃለን ....እ ከዛዝ?? ያዙኝ ልቀቁኝ ስንጮህ፣ ሰውን ድባቅ ስንመታ መብረቅ እራሱ በኛ ይቀናል!
ሁሌ እንደነዚህ ጉዳዮች ይህችን የመጽሐፍ ቅዱስ ታሪክ ታስታውሰኛለች...
ዮሐ 8፥ 3-11 ታሪኩን አንብቡት ግን
በእርጥም እየሱስን ሊፈትኑት ነው አመንዝራዋን ሴት ያመጧት ፈሪሳውያን እና ጻሃፊዎች የሙሴን ሕግ ስርዓት ወግ አጥባቂዎች ናቸው ሲበዛ (ይገርሙኛል የነሱ ነገር፣ በዘመነ ኦሪት ያለነበሩ ኋላ በሐዲስ ድንገት የበቀሉ)
1. እየሱስ እንዴት ይህን አለ "ከእናንተ ኀጢአት የሌለበት አስቀድሞ በድንጋይ ይውገራት።"(ቁ.7 ላይ) ለምን ያላመነዘረ አላለም??? ሊወግሯት የነበረው ስላመነዘረችም አይደል ??
2. "እነርሱም ይህን ሲሰሙ ኅሊናቸው ወቀሳቸውና ከሽማግሌዎች ዠምረው እስከ ኋለኛዎች አንድ አንድ እያሉ ወጡ።"(ቁ.9 ላይ)
MIND YOU !! ህሊናቸው ወቀሳቸው ሲል ምን ማለቱ ነው?? ፈሪሳውያንን የሙሴን ሕግ ጠንቅቀው የሚያውቁ ናቸው ብለናል ስለዚህ ያንን ሕግ ይተገብሩታል የጠብቁታል ነው ጨዋታው...የተዋት በድብቅ ማንም ሳያያቸው ስላመነዘሩ፣ ስለዘሞቱ አይደለምኮ !!(ያልታወቀበት አንድ ጸሐፍ ወይ ፈሪሳዊ ይኖራልኮ) ግንን... የያዘ ያከረሩት ሕግ ጠብቋቸው እንጂ 😂 ያቺ ህግ ባትኖርስ ?? ምን አልባት ሁለተኛይቱን የሶዶምና ጎመራን ጥፋት እናይ ነበር!! እንደው ሌላም ሀጥያት ሰርተው ነው የህሊናው ወቀሳው ብትሉ .... ወዳጆቼ ፈሪሳወያኑ እኮ ከሐዛብ ጋር አንድ ቤት መቀመጥ ያረክሰናል የሚሉ ናቸው!! እራሳቸውን እንደ ጻድቅ የሚቆጥሩ አቤት ህሊና ግን የምርም ሀቀኛ ናትና እሷን እንስማት
ደሞ ይሄንስል ሂዱና በሀጥያት ተጠመቁ እያልኩኝ አይደለም። ግድየለሽና ምህረት ቢስም ሁኑ አይደለም። ለመጥፎ ስራቹ የአመንክዮ አክሊል አጥልቁለትም አይደለም።
ሕግና ስርዓቱን ጠብቁ ግን በሰጣቹ ጸጋ እንጂ በናንተ ብርታት እና ጥንካሬ አይደለም። ከሕጉ ላለመውጣታቹ እግዚአብሔርን አመስገኑ እንጂ እራሳችሁን አታሞግሱ!! በእውነት እራሳችንን በማሞገሳችን የተነሳ ነው ሌላውን ለመውገር የምንነሳው !! ባይሆንማ የትኛው ችሎታችን የትኛው ጥበባችን የሀጥያት የሚጠብቀን ??? ጠቢቡ ሠለሞንም ከዚህ በጥበቡ አልዳነም!!😒
ግን ጽድቃቹ ከናንተ አይደለችምና አትመጻደቁባት፣ አትታቆለጳጵሷት!!
@Journey2019 | 141 |
| 9 | ፖስተኛው.pdf | 153 |
| 10 | Well, it’s no longer silent here.
In this new place.
And by silent I mean peaceful,
It has never been silent.
And by peaceful I mean unoccupied,
It has never been peaceful.
And by unoccupied…
Well,
I don’t exactly know what I mean by unoccupied.
But it is something here,
Something vague,
Something obscurely angry, at me, I think.
But clearly something.
A three hour conversation about nothing and everything would heal this place.
Only need to figure how to make time flow in one’s favor.
I pray thee! I pray thee!
(Was worth a shot)
Alas, It’s like most of me is absent.
How can one up and move to any “in another life”?
Give me a hand,
Show me the way,
Or maybe,
Better yet,
Give me your hand,
Both of them even,
I’ll hold one and put a promise of a rose in the other.
Maybe that would heal this place and all the places from before.
Or all the places we’ve never been to, and then maybe even some more.
-Mending Swords- | 199 |
| 11 | ፍቕረይ,
I remember that you lips were cherry red,
When you said, “I’m hungry for your lips.”
Maybe I was dreaming but I remember a lot of other pretty little things,
Like an impossible rose unfurling from your mouth,
As you said you loved me, and that beautiful music kept on getting infinitely loud.
Maybe it might just be in dreams but I held your hands in mine too,
It’s hazy but I remember us walking and hearing people whisper, “look at those inseparable two.”
With a smile painted on every single face.
It might have been just a dream but I remember kneeling down to tie that one shoe’s lace.
I don’t know, it might have been, and it sounds absurd and ominously misplaced,
But I remember that you didn’t disappear without a detectable trace.
That your scent stayed with me,
That “you and I have been and forever will be.”
That “one heart beats for the other.”
It sounds insane but I remember driving in absolute fear on my way to meet your mother,
To ask her for your hand,
To tell her that her daughter is the only reason I stand,
And her welcoming me into the family with happy tears in eyes,
And I fighting back tears, “cause a grown man never really cries.”
I also remember kneeling in front of you one more time, under a sky so blue,
And you thinking, “here he goes again, about to tie my shoe.”
And I pulling out a ring,
And hearing the heavens sing.
And…
አዬ!
ፍቕረይ,
ተይው ተይው.
That doesn’t sound like you.
አይ አይ.
እውነት አይመስለኝም, it’s far from being true.
It might have been a dream.
It must have been a dream!
Only a wretched dream. | 273 |
| 12 | I ask myself where did I lose my identity, became shallow like the men I used to hate. Did things I used to despise.
Become someone I would've hated. I sit in the dark often, just stare into the abyss. But it never gazed back upon me, I didn't know then that the abyss was within me all along.
I fail to see the difference between good and evil. How could I within this veil of self loathing and self destruction.
I think about all the things I would've been or the feelings I could've felt, and imagine how disgusted my inner child would be to see me lighting a cigarette for no apparent reason. I guess I've became the broken man I used to hate. | 246 |
| 13 | ከሰውና ከችግራችን
ከሰውና ከጽድቃችን
ከሰውና ከኩኔያችን የቱ ነው የሚበልጠው
ወዶን የመጣን ሰው ለምንድን ነው የምንገፋው? በምክንያት ምክንያት ደርድረን
ሲያሻን ከራሳችን አንሰን
ሲያሰኘን በነሱ ላይ የአትመጥኑኝም ጭቃ መርገን
የነሱ መውደድ ከኛ አንሶ
ካልሆነም የኛ ችግር ከነሱ ገዝፎ፣ መውደድን ገፋ ገፋ የምናደርገው ለምን ነው
ወይስ የመውደዳቸው ልኬት በኛ ቀመር ስላልተሰላ ነው? በኛ ትርታ ልባቸው ስላልደለቀ?ወይስ ከሀላፊነት ስለምንጎድል ነው? ፍቅርን ከኛ ቀንስ መስጠት እንዳለብን ስለምናውቅ ፈርተን ?? ወይስ ከነሱ ብቻ መቀበልን ነበር የምፈልገው ? የነሱን መውደድ ብቻ መጋት ከዛስ? እነሱስ?
ወይስ ችግራቸው ችግራችን ስለሚሆን ችግርንን እየሸሸን ነው መስቀላቸውን መሸከም ፈርተን ?? ወይስ አጭር ቅንጭር ያለችውን ደስታ ነበር የምንፈልገው? ዚረዝምብን በምክንያት ቢላ የምገዘግዘው
ወይስ ሳልገፋ ልግፋ ሳልወድቅ ልጣል ነው??
ወይስ ሌሎች የገፉንን መበቀያ ነው
ለምንድነው በር አንኳክተው ለመጡ ሰዎች አይ የምንለው?? ጆሮ ዳባ ልበስ የምንሆነው?? ወይስ ኩራት ነው? ትንሽ ላንጨርጭር ትንሽ ላንከራት
https://t.me/Journey2019 | 333 |
| 14 | እታለሜ
I wish to swiftly split space and time and fly into the night you were born in,
ካልቻልኩ እንኳን እራሱ እንደምንም በህልም,
አንድ አምላኬን ላመሰግን, አንድ ደሞ ቀይ ጉንጭሽን ልስም.
Then to the scene where you waited eagerly at home the night I was born,
Where I imagine you prayed a little prayer with your little hands raised high ጤነኛ እንድሆን.
Or to the days you fed me little bites መብላት እምቢ ሲለኝ,
“አውሮፕላኑ መጣ, ኡቭ, መንገድ ክፈትልኝ.”
Then to the nights you hid your tears behind a pillow too,
እሱ እንኳን ካልሆነ to when ever you feel even a little blue.
I pray the Lord above grants me this one wish,
ለምን ብትይ እንኳን, ብቻሽን ለምንሽ?
ትራሱስ ማን ሆኖ ትከሻዬ እያለልሽ?
እታለሜ,
እኔ ልሙት, ሁሌ ባልነግርሽም ህመምሽ ነው ህመሜ
I am alive because cared enough to keep me breathing here
ያኑርሽ በበጎ ለምነሽ እንዳኖርሽኝ
ደስታሽን ያብዛልኝ, ይታደግሽ እሱ እኔን እንደታደግሽኝ.
Michael | 270 |
| 15 | Galactic Network
The universe is like an AI
You have to be very precise about what you want
Or it'll give you what you want, but in a comical, ridiculous way
You ask for wealth, and it kills your family and force you to inherit the money
You ask for freedom, and it incapacitates those around you rendering you free to do as you please
You ask for a great body, and it gives you a disease that makes you shed a fifth of your weight
You ask for love, it puts you through relationship hell and reminds you that only motherly love is the truest
Penman: @virtualmatter | 230 |
| 16 | ወርቅ አልማዝ አጥንቴ.
ቁስሌን በጨው ድብን,
ደሞ እንዳልጮህ እፍን, በአርባ ክንድ ጨርቅ.
ዐይኖቼንም ጭፍን,
የመከራ መዐት, ከዐለም እንድረቅ.
አፈር በላዬ ላይ,
የጨለማ መዐድ ከነፍሳት እንድሰርቅ.
እግዚኦ! እግዚኦ! እግዚኦ!
አንዳችም ሳትሺኝ, ወዲያ ክላ ስትይ, ጠፍቼ ነበረ,
ግን ገለሽ ስትቀብሪኝ, ለአንቺ እልህ ሲል, አጥንቴ ከበረ. | 243 |
| 17 | 🪩
I'm losing it as a kid loses his marbles.
One by one.
I'm told I'm no kid anymore, but I'm losing them.
I had a yellow marble once: hooomans called it excitement.
It's gone now.
When the rain poured like this, I'd curl up and read or get excited for what was to come in the new year.
And yet, I keep calling. To bring it back to me, to overthrow all the heavy layers of blankets laid all over me.
Blankets I never asked for.
I want it to find me and, once again, live through me in all of the shiniest ways life offers✨
By: @kzbitu | 188 |
| 18 | SEPTEMBER
There is a silent suction in your mind
It usually stays quiet in a corner like a frightened cat waiting to pounce
It sometimes quietly whispers miserable thoughts
It likes to tell you why you have always been bad
It sometimes slithers its way into your heart
It burrows a hole there that makes it dark
It sometimes likes to fool you so it hides
It makes you think it has been purged and you are free at last only to scream when it eventually comes back
It sometimes constricts your world into its dark clutches as if its the only air you breath and the only sight you see
It sometimes convinces your soul to relinquish its will
It gives a very compelling argument so you just want to give in
It sometimes let's you take a peak at the wonders of life , of all that you could've should've would've been
It wants to make sure you know that you will never win
It sometimes makes a good companion because you think this despair is all you will ever know
But in all the things you know about it make sure to know that you have endured and it has yet to fully prosper
Make sure to know you have withered it's mighty storms yet here you stand wholly intact
Make sure to know you have laughed and loved despite it's great effort
Make sure to know that you are not yet gone
You will learn a new language
You will build the home you have always wanted
You will sing and dance with reckless abandon
you will live fully and abundantly
You will LIVE and it will not conquer.
@Zionpharpharbot | 189 |
| 19 | “ሰርዶ አይብቀል”
Apophis will fly by our sky on the 13th of April, 2029.
I fear ያኔ ራሱ we will not be holding hands staring at the night sky,
I fear you would not be mine.
I fear we’ve been robbed of that chance by fear.
My very own.
Almost by design.
So, ምን ልልሽ መሰለሽ,
If I have not gotten rid of it by then,
And we still are naught,
I pray Ra finally faces his final loss.
I hope Apophis finally gets to swallow the sun,
And then the earth,
And then finally me.
I don’t want you holding hands with another while I still have eyes to see. | 206 |
| 20 | When we're young, we have dreams as big as the world.
We don't know limits yet. We haven't learned to measure possibility against probability. We just... want. With our whole chests. With the kind of certainty that only exists before someone tells you no.
We wanted to fly. To be heroes. To change something. To matter.
And the world was wide open
or so we thought.
Then, when we're older, we're told to face reality.
As if our dreams and reality are in direct conflict.
As if wanting too much is a disease.
As if hoping is something you're supposed to outgrow, like baby teeth or bedtime stories.
Be realistic, they say.
But what they mean is: settle.
What they mean is: the world doesn't owe you anything, so stop acting like it does.
What they mean is: your dreams were never the point surviving was.
And so we shrink.
We become smaller, quieter, more acceptable.
We trade the vastness of our childhood skies for the four walls of a life that fits.
But somewhere in the back of a closet, in the bottom of a drawer, in the quiet space behind our ribs
the dream is still there.
Folded. Dusty. But breathing.
And then someone asks:
"What do you want your life to look like?"
And the question lands like a stone in still water.
Because you used to know.
You used to see it ... vivid, possible, yours.
But now?
Now you open your mouth to answer
and nothing comes out.
Not because you don't want anything.
But because you've been told for so long that wanting is dangerous,
that wanting is foolish,
that wanting is for children and the delusional
that you've forgotten how to want at all.
So you sit there.
Silent.
Staring at the person who asked,
staring at the version of yourself that still remembers,
staring at the space between who you are and who you thought you'd be.
And you think:
What do I want?
I wanted to be happy.
I wanted to be free.
I wanted to love and be loved in a way that didn't feel like negotiation.
I wanted to matter, not to the world, but to myself.
Is that still allowed?
Or did I trade that away somewhere along the way,
in exchange for getting by,
for being realistic,
for surviving a world that never promised me anything but struggle?
The question hangs there.
And maybe — maybe — the most honest answer is:
I don't know anymore.
I don't know what I want.
I don't know if I'm allowed to want.
I don't know if the person I am now is the person I became
or the person I settled for.
And that silence
that long, aching silence after the question
is the truest thing you've said in years.
Because sometimes the deepest answer isn't words.
It's the quiet.
It's the not knowing.
It's the slow, painful realization that somewhere between being young and being here,
you lost the thread.
And now, when someone asks you to weave it back
you don't even remember what the pattern looked like.
So you just... sit.
With the question.
With the silence.
With the ghost of a dream that still hasn't decided whether to die or fight.
---
And when they finally look away
when they stop waiting for an answer
you feel something small and cold settle in your chest.
Not sadness.
Just... truth.
The truth that some questions don't have answers.
The truth that some dreams don't come back.
The truth that you are here alive, breathing, surviving
but somehow, somewhere, the you who knew what they wanted...
is gone.
And you don't know if you're supposed to mourn them,
or become them again.
So you just sit.
Quiet.
Still.
Waiting for a dream you're not sure you're allowed to have anymore.
---
What do you want your life to look like?
...I don't know.
But I wish — God, I wish — that the answer came as easily
as it did before the world taught me to stop asking.
Before I learned that wanting is dangerous.
Before I became someone who survives instead of someone who lives.
I don't know what I want.
But I know what I lost.
And maybe — maybe — that's the same thing.
...
Arthur - @LostBoy81
| 248 |
