trystmmmwords

[trystmmmwords]

Did you get it ?

- no, not yet

Are you close ?

- may be

Why may be ?

- because I no longer want the same fruit

What changed?

- me

Who did that to you?

- me

Tell me the truth ?

- The world

Are you okay though?

- Yes

More words ?

- I am absolutely fine.

I can see the sun, moon and breathe air everyday.

I can say hello a little better.

I eat properly and laugh sometimes.

The world broke me, but I walked again.

On the debris of my old self who was timid, scared and soft.

Who are you now ?

- -

Who are you now ?

--

I am asking you again! Who are you now ?

- no one.

[trystmmmwords]

I get it sun, why you burn everything that comes near you.

[trystmmmwords]

It's my 7 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

[trystmmmwords]

"My Peaceful Evening", Vahan Teryan (translated by Tathev Simonyan)

[trystmmmwords]

"transfer fee" "starting fee" "convenience fee" "late fee" okay what if i beat you to a red pulp with a hammer what about that

[trystmmmwords]

Analicia Sotelo, from Virgin: Poems; “South Texas Persephone”

[Text ID: “Look now: my heart / is a fist of barbed wire.”]

[trystmmmwords]

After all this time,

I sometimes still crave for the recklessness .

The recklessness that took my life .

[trystmmmwords]

Mythical creatures exist, but they all like to take the form of humans, they do it so well that most of their own species wouldn’t be able to tell. One day your wife sits you down and explains that she is a dragon…you begin to worry about your secret stash of gold in the attic.

[trystmmmwords]

I felt like burning the whole city down where you lived. I felt like breaking the walls of the building you lived in. I was so livid, bewildered, dreadful, miserable and broken. You shattered my whole world and you didn't apologize properly. The last time I saw you was when I handed you over a hand written letter by me and you didn't even care to call me and tell me how you felt. I cried day and night, loathing my existence. Prayed to die and then god turned my life upside down...

[trystmmmwords]

And then you walked away and cried until I died.

But then I was born again, every part of rising like a phoenix, burning down your existence eternally.

And so I grieve sometimes for the unknown.

Mourning to the sky, oceans and Stardust.

[trystmmmwords]

I wonder if you still look at the sunset and feel the breeze a little too cold because it whispers the death of me and us to you and crawling chills down your spine.

#

[trystmmmwords]

““This is the strange way of the world, that people who simply want to love are instead forced to become warriors.” - Lauren Oliver, Requiem”

—

[trystmmmwords]

“Anyone who has actually been that sad can tell you that there’s nothing beautiful or literary or mysterious about depression.”

— Jasmine Warga, My Heart and Other Black Holes

[trystmmmwords]

To the lover who didn't stay,

People tell me you didn't deserve me and may be thats somehow true but how do I tell them how you felt when I held for you the first time. Your arms felt like home and I never wanted anything more. How do I tell them how you felt when you kissed me for the first time and we ran out of breath. How do I tell them how beautiful you were in my eyes. I guess I will always love you even though you are not mine. I will move forward and love a different guy who is actually meant to me but my heart will never hate you. I wish you well but I hope my absence haunts you forever. You broke me first.

[trystmmmwords]

— Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena

[trystmmmwords]

— a girl is a haunted house, tathève simonyan

[text ID: “I could’ve lived like this”, echoed in my head. / As I looked around, my eyes unthinkingly clung to places where I could’ve hidden my selves: the ones that didn’t come to being and the one that I was. In the cupboards of this kitchen I could’ve buried all the women I could’ve grown into. While doing so, I would’ve put on the apron of the one who inhabited the kitchen. The cups and the glasses would’ve made place for me. I could’ve easily found a home in between the kitchen table and refrigerator. As the fragrance of rosemary and thyme found their way to me, a picture found its way to the back of my eyes: a hushed scene, full of contentment, a shot of me standing in the center of this kitchen, feet thick brown trucks giving birth to dozens of snakelike radixes, covered in colorful moss, devoid of flowers but who needs flowers when all they do is wilt anyway? I would’ve thought so, had I been the me of that frame. / I could’ve been content here, not happy, but content. The cutlery and the plates would’ve made place for me. The dull roar of the washing machine would’ve hidden my cries, with the same diligence it sheltered my mother’s. The “what ifs” of this particular scenario smelled of cinnamon and vanilla. / I could’ve been content here. I thought as I placed the coffee cup on the countertop next to the gas stove: the surface always wet for it filled the space between the sink and the stove, in between water and fire.  / I could’ve been content here. I repeated as I unscrewed the lid of the coffee jar and took out a spoonful of the umber powder. / While turning on the gas and putting the cezve on its designated place, I cursed the mind that yearned for more, yearned to be more than what it was supposed to be. I cursed the eyes that only saw what was not in front of them, hands that wished to touch what wasn’t theirs to touch and the tongue that longed to taste what wasn’t hers to taste. I cursed myself because I understood that I could’ve been content here, and as the umber froth fought its way to the surface, my tears caved in to the gravitational force.]

[trystmmmwords]

— February 15, 1914 | Franz Kafka diaries