I saw Edward Scissorhands across the room and he was beautiful. I went up to take a film photo with him and we started talking. He told me that his favorite day of the year was his birthday and that he always takes a day off for his birthday, that his favorite season is Winter, that he doesn’t have a favorite color, and that he was born on October 19th. He told me that he hated New year’s Eve and thought it was overrated. He said that people just party and drink as if it’s special. I told him how I celebrate New Year’s Eve outside, ice skating and watching fireworks. “That’s nice”, he said. He told me that he worked online for a company abroad and that he’s quitting to take a two-month break. He said he was tired. I put my nail polish between his Scissohand fingers and started painting my nails while he sat and looked at me. He told me that I looked beautiful and I thought he looked even more beautiful but I didn’t get the courage to say it.
Continue reading “Edward Scissorhands”Tag: thought
Beauty
At 9:45 am her phone alarm rings. Beauty looks at me with sleepy eyes and whispers, “morning.” I don’t reply, but I smile and touch her face. It feels soft and pretty. Beauty’s hair is still wet from last night’s beauty shower, where she bathed in orange zest, cinnamon, and moonlight. Beauty washes her face with spring water and gentle breeze. She then moisturizes with La Mer tears-infused balm. She makes a teapot of sunflowers and daisies, waits until it’s lukewarm, chugs her teacup it in one shot and pours me one. “I don’t drink” I say. “It makes butterflies grow inside of my stomach”, she says.
Continue reading “Beauty”A fragment that failed its’ purpose
This piece of metal (image removed) is fragment of a massive explosion that landed on my room’s balcony in 2013. I was laying on my bed next to a wall-sized glass door. I always sat there and let my body get soaked in the subtle sunlight, as I watched the clouds moving in the sky in a swaying rythme. I would lay on my back and imagine as if gravity is reversed and the blue sky is my ground; a thought I was often amused by. I felt so lucky being able to watch the sky from my own bed and more clearly and vividly, from my balcony. The sky might’ve been at some point the most exciting thing in that lifeless town I called Home.
Continue reading “A fragment that failed its’ purpose”Disconnected
Speaking last. Speaking least. Speaking loud. Words won’t come out. Saying too much. Writing more. Writing less. Wanting perfection that doesn’t exist. Is she my friend? Looking above. Clouds touching. Clouds dissipating into clear blue sky. Wanting perfection. Seeking perfection. Unattainable. I won’t be happy. I am happy. Sink within myself. Reject tenderly. Accept the average.
Fragment told by a seventeen year-old
I guess I didn’t think about potential. It didn’t occur to me that I’d have a purpose in life. Sure, I’ll go to school and graduate then have a job then die, either alone or in a horrific war situation. At one point my fear of not having one true passion scared me to death. I’m not sure.. maybe having a hobby gave me a purpose in life. I wanted to know that I did the best I could do at a given moment regardless of who I was surrounded by or whether I was surrounded by anyone at all.
Ketchup Festival
September 5th 2018
I was sitting in the metro with a childhood friend from school and we were discussing the book Mad Shadows by Marie-Claire. I looked to the seat in front of me and saw that my French professor was sitting next to Vincent Van Gogh. I was not surprised because I thought that Vincent was just one of us. My teacher offered to gift me the original book that we were discussing earlier but I refused. I rented books and didn’t like accumulating them. Then I started noticing that Vincent’s ears were perfectly normal and he started looking more angel-like, as if he was taken right out a painting. The metro stopped in the middle of nowhere, doors wide opened and there were trampolines everywhere. Everyone was screaming “ketchup” so I told my friend, teacher, and Vincent not to worry cause it’s the Ketchup festival! We stepped outside of the metro where everyone seemed exceptionally happy! They looked loud but it sounded silent, as if someone put the volume on “mute”. A beautiful man with a nose piercing told me that he loved me and I told him that he’s an asshole because I knew him. I accepted his words anyway. Then we all went to a theatre that had round tables instead of theatre seats. We sat down and ate tuna with lemons.
Beauty in the details
Tuesday, October 13th, 2015, The sun rays lightly touched my skin as I waited in bed for the alarm to ring. It doesn’t matter what a sleepless night I had, I always manage to wake up earlier than my alarm, get my body the closest it can get to the glass door beside my bed, and let the sunlight warmth soak into my skin. I closed my eyes one more time. My heavy eyelids were getting lighter and warmer as I rewinded dreams of people I may never know. It wasn’t a pleasant morning from all the thinking I had the other night. I was wondering if I’ll ever be able to escape this town before our building crashes over me or something horrifying happens to someone I care for. Living in a war zone makes having these kinds of thoughts inevitable. Nonetheless, I was a positive dreamy child at heart. I smiled back at the glistering goddess beaming down on earth with delicate beauty at 8 am. I stepped out of bed, took my mini calendar in hand. With a purple inked pen, I tapped X on Monday the 12th. It’s a new day. I looked at my face in the mirror. It was calm still and pale. I applied makeup on my self-doubts and wore clothes I felt good seeing myself in. At that particular moment, I felt genuinely happy. A bird was picking on a fallen leaf on my balcony. My cup of tea smelled heavenly delicious. I closed my eyes and took a sip. “Beauty is in the details,” I wrote these words on a scrap of paper and stuck it on the wall in the corner of my room; where my head lied on my pillow. I left the house after taking one last glance with half a smile I got used to looking at myself with, and in pictures, and at people. I thought of all the ones I’ll see today; distant friends I felt happy with but never truly connected to – people who will never know how nice the light gusts of wind and morning sunshine scatters made me feel.