Scribbles

2022-05-22 08:54:38 *10 ሰዓት conversations*

Him: ...And of course it is a shame to drink when there is nothing to celebrate
but it is better than drinking alone.
So life gave you lemons too?
Sit down.
Let's drink about it.

Me: Let's drink the bitterness,
swim in the sadness we own
and when people find us in the morning, if ever they do...let them think we 'accidentally' drowned.

Him: Like that fish who forgot where he belonged,
like that fish who woke up one day and decided to breathe.
So life gave you lemons too?
Do you too feel like the world is nothing but a dark alley we are tying to run from?
Like the world is a home we've never known?

Me: So life gave you lemons too?
Come on, let's make a juice out of it,
with a little bit of flavor,
using all the life we have left in us.
And of course it's a shame to drink when there's nothing to celebrate
so let's be morbid and celebrate death,
to the me and you that died a long time ago
to bits of our soul that never got buried.

Him: If we drink enough maybe we'll gulp a seed or two,
perhaps we could father a tree if we're stomped on enough,
perhaps life is just dying a little everyday.
Don't shy away.
Let's drink our fill.

Do you remember your childhood dreams or do your nightmares stand out?
Which one hurts more?
To drink or to remember?

So life broke your spine with a fruit?
She broke my heart.
Whatever the case we were wise to come to a bar,
to lift the bottle is a strength not many know.
Let's weigh our fruit,
let's see who gives
let's lay here for a while
in an abandoned inn.

Me: Where our souls stay cold.
Forgotten.
Neglected.
But tonight we won't address any of our sorrows, instead we drink them
those lemons life threw at us?
Come on let's squeeze the life out of them.

Come my darling.
Let's celebrate you.
Let's celebrate me.
Let's drink life's lemon juice
and let's drown accidentally.

-The Scribbles Team Open / Comment

2022-05-18 21:41:12 "The wicked flee when no man pursueth."
Proverbs 28:1

II

...It all went according to plan,
Until it didn't...

...And you were caught fornicating
on the wrong side of heaven,
trading your mind for a moment's high.
In some ways you will be remembered
As the man who found flaws in perfection.

You became the person you promised you wouldn't be,
You were caught running alone in a dark alleyway in heaven;
Running back to where you belong,
Back to what you pitied:
You traded your height for a broken parachute,
You forgot to remember,
You forgot to remember:
the angel fell,
with his wings.


I

There is a chill in the air:
A subtle urgency;
Carrying regrets of the dead and complaints of the living.
There is an unspoken matter;
An overlooked silence,
There is a chill in the air.

And the wind blows,
carrying bad news,
the kind that makes mothers gasp
The kind that makes the youth scoff,
The puppeteer is in control.

The poet states the obvious,
The people run
No one pursues
You pity them
The mad prophet tells the truth,
and the comedian is dead, stabbed with consequence,
and there you are;
living in anticipation

There is darkness looming,
Singing the songs of goliath.
Streets covered in red,
And hearts heavy enough to break the crust,
it's the end of the world,
and you have front row seats.

There is calm in the distance,
A day after tomorrow,
A place where hope is true,
And truth is love,
And love is power,
A place only you know.

There is a place of course,
Built from the debris and the rubble,
A place without these fools who trade their souls for helium,
A place beyond the darkness,
A place without these people,
A home only you know.

You wake up in a state of bliss to live the last day,
to break the last meal,
to have the last say,
to celebrate what you were waiting on;
it is the end of your suffering,
it is the end of the world.

-you (II)
@MenAce7 Open / Comment

2022-05-16 11:21:00 Perhaps you should have stopped to ask.
When I professed my love under the stars, waiting for a big moment you wouldn't forget
and then proceeded to say the same exact thing on mundane days
you should have noticed and stopped me.
And you should have asked 'why me?'

Had you asked me then,
what I loved about you
I would have given myself a minute or two
to make sure everything that was coming out my mouth was true.

But you took it no questions asked.
I guess you made no mistake,
this was how one loved another.
And for you have been loved properly
with that same love you are familiar with,
you expected it out of me.

Oh, if only you asked 'why do you love me?'

Perhaps I would have told you I fell for something different
though it has been said you see in a person what's already inside you,
what I don't like about me, is the reason why I love you.

I love you?

Do I love you?
For I don't like the voices in my head,
that's the reason I turn to talk to you.
Had you asked,
and had I told you this,
would you still have considered my love as something authentic,
as something true?
Do I love you?

Can I love?
For I haven't been introduced with myself yet
is love something I can give and have?

Can you love me?
For I assume you would need some knowledge to do that,
have you met me properly?
Darling, do you love me?

But most importantly,
do I love you?
For I would need to feel it in the first place
so I can give it back to you.

I know love needs no reason
but perhaps you should have asked.
You should have asked me.
Maybe then I would have realized inorder to love you
I needed to love me.

【Day 25: I repeat, stop confusing love with low self worth.】


#RANDOM_THOUGHTS Open / Comment

2022-05-12 14:10:08 She plays pain like no one else,
She's an artist,
She plays pain every morning when the sun shines,
She plays pain every night before she goes to bed,
She plays pain,
She practiced...
That's the only thing they taught her to do,
And the audience patiently waits for her next heartbreak masterpiece,
Sustenance when she's drained,
Nourishment when she's broken,
She plays pain,
Cheats at his rigged game,
She plays pain,
And she plays it well,

She paints pain
She's an artist
She knows his face like no one else
She curves, she breaks, she bends the brush
She knew him like the back of her hand
She practiced...
He was the only one she knew how to paint right
And eyes stare in awe at the blood on her canvas
Hands applaud her newest heartbreak masterpiece
Excitement when she's troubled,
Colors when she's grey,
She paints pain,
Draws portraits,
And she paints it well,

She pens pain,
She's an artist,
She knows his words like no one else,
She writes with precision,
Every letter where it's supposed to be,
She practiced...
The only way she knew how,
And the crowd recites her heartbreak masterpiece,
Making her live through it all again
She writes pain,
Like a letter to an old friend who's been too busy to write back
Angry yet considerate,
Hopeful yet collected,
She pens pain,
Creates a masterpiece from her heartbreak,
Memories from her scars,
She writes pain,
And she writes it well.

-(Atlanta S02E06|30:18)
@MenAce7 Open / Comment

2022-05-09 10:07:32 Do you still feel the dent in the middle of your head from where the seesaw hit you?
Have you forgiven the girl that asked you to go down and even out the tires, so it's possible to play for two?
Have you forgiven?

Do you still feel the chest pain?
From that time you ran so hard
so you don't miss first period?

When you fell down sometime ago
trying to escape the water,
have you forgotten what that was like
or do you still stay up and remember?

The scars on your knees,
do they remind you of the wounds that once existed?
Or is it replaced skin you see,
have you moved on and healed?
Have you forgotten?

Have you let go?
Have you made peace with the girl that drew on your book and ruined your prize?
The one that made you lose your principle for a bit,
the one that made you compromise.

Have you forgiven the boy you fought with once upon a time?
Or do parts of you still resent him because he didn't give a dime?

Have you forgotten?
Are you okay?
Have you learnt to stand still
or do you still run away?

Have you forgiven?
Are you fine?
Or do the weight of the things that happened to you
still keep you up at night?

-Every single thing you have ever owned
【The Big Bang Theory S9 : E19 - 12:27】


#RANDOM_THOUGHTS Open / Comment

2022-05-04 22:15:48 -something from the notepad #19
@MenAce7 Open / Comment

2022-05-02 08:54:04 Are you scared?
Of the day when someone will finally notice
and ask what you are keeping inside?
The door nobody ever sees in normal days
if by some chance somebody ever does,
are you scared of what they will find?
Are you terrified?
That someone will forget you exist clean
if they find out the mess you hide?
Are you scared?
Petrified?
Of the day when someone will ask you why that door exists,
what's behind?
Are you scared?
Are you afraid?
Of the day when someone will take an interest
and ask what's going on inside your head?
Are you frightened?
Of the day you might get called out,
or do you want to let go
and let someone find out?

【Friends S8 : Ep14 - 18:36】


#RANDOM_THOUGHTS Open / Comment

2022-04-29 10:03:22 The room spins.
Lately it suddenly does.
Quick!
What are five things you can see?
I scan the room,
hoping something would catch my eyes
something would ground me.
How is it everything in this dark room is so bright
that I am terrified it would blind me?

Focus.
Breathe.
And name the five things you manage to see.

I see the walls.
Is it just me or do they seem like they are closing?
I don't know.
But mark it down from the list as one thing.
And I see my pen
and a crumbled paper
I see my notebook
How many was that so far? Four?
I see him too, but I know I can't add him to the list
focus
breathe
and list the fifth thing in the room that exists.
Me?

What are the four things you can touch around you?
I am already pushing up the wall against the ground, that it just can't seem to attach to.
And I feel my pen against my right hand
clutched so hard, it's piercing me.
Blood. Is that blood dripping from me?
Scratch my previous answer.
Can this be the fifth thing I see?

Focus.
Breathe.
Sit down on this couch.
And tell me the rest of the things you know you can touch.

I can touch the couch, does that count?
The blood dripping, I can also feel that.

Now try to listen to the surrounding that's near
and tell me three things you can hear.

I can hear heavy breathing.
Is someone drowning?
And a loud heartbeat
can I count it?
And a sob. I hear a sob.
Should we go get help? Or would that count as number three so we can move on?

You are following the steps very well.
Now tell me two things you can smell.

Hmm. I don't know.
I forgot his odor.
I can't remember.

No. Focus.
Breathe gently.
Don't go down this memory lane
and try to stay with me.

Why did I forget what he smells like tho?

It's okay. Stay with me
and find two things only.

Hmm. Do I smell spring?
Wait. That's not true.
This is dragging for far too long
I'm starting to lie to you.
But I smell the ink
and the paper too.
Ink. Paper. Blood.
Nope. Just those two.

Focus.
Breathe.
You are doing great.
Now tell me the one thing you can currently taste.

I can taste loss.
I can taste failure.
I can taste fear.
I can taste nothingness.

Something salty.
Oh wait! These liquids running down my cheeks,
I can taste the tears.

I sigh with a relief.

Now what?
This is the last step right?
We are done counting?
So when does the room start to stay still
and stop spinning?

【5, 4, 3, 2, 1】


#RANDOM_THOUGHTS Open / Comment

2022-04-27 13:46:41 *Our father, who art in heaven...*

I know love exists because if you open his bag you would find my favorite snack when it's the least favorite of his,
I have never doubted its existence.
But have you seen what we have been up to lately?
What they are the streaming on the news,
what we are doing daily?

I know love exists because his pen does
and so does he
because he writes
(at times for me.)
I like the world he creates
I like finding myself in his story
but if I'm currently not a fan of Your script
what does that say about me?
*pen breaks*
(Help! Take this blasphemy out of me.)

I haven't been paying attention to the birds that sing
or feel the normalcy of gratefulness in the mornings
and I don't give thanks in the evenings
so forgive me father for I have sinned.

I know love exists because they do
and I have met the embodiment of home
for You have blessed me endlessly
with these people I call my own.
But it's been a while since I skip-walked on the road
or feel a wave of love for the street dogs,
while I'm existing (barely)
it's the state of nothingness I long for.

Forgive me father for I have sinned
by doing the things I'm not supposed to
for not calling it quits
for all the things I continue to do.
And I don't remember the last time I felt a wave of love for a stranger that sat next to me,
I don't seem to have any recollection
I hate to say this out loud,
but I may not be a big fan of Your creations.

What does that say about me?
Holding on to these agonies,
holding on to this misery.

*Our father, who art in heaven...*

I know love exists because she does
and so did he
because You died on the cross
and carried all my burdens for me.
But forgive me father, I have a confession to make,
I don't remember the last time I gave, all I do is take.

*አባታችን ሆይ፣ በሰማይ የምትኖር...*
I have been avoiding prayers these days
because of these words that are four.

•...እኛም የበደሉንን ይቅር እንደምንል...*
for that would make a fraud out of me
I haven't uttered these words in a while
I haven't prayed lately.

Forgive me father, for I don't seem to let go
has this heart of mine been always this shallow?

Forgive I forgot I was forgiven
forgive all the hate I feel
forgive the way I behave
for I have tremendously sinned.
And forgive this question I'm about to ask You
but ንገረኝ እስኪ አምላኬ
does love run out?
ፍቅር ያልቃል እንዴ?

And forgive I have the audacity, to ask this of You
for I am deeply aware, all that love truly is You.


#RANDOM_THOUGHTS Open / Comment

2022-04-24 17:55:04 I never found ignorance to be a bliss but lately I find myself craving the innocence I lost,
the one I happily traded for knowledge
the sleep I gave up to be woke.
Lately,
I find anxiety and panic attacks in the truth I discover instead of a peace of mind.
And every time these new information pile up - I forget.

I forget my favorite food (because it eventually gave me pain)
I forget the ink (I ran from both pen and pain)
(Best believe the pain catches up though.)
I forget how to read
I forget how to sleep
and sometimes I'm scared I'll wake up one day and forget to grin.
These lemons and lemonades are too sour to sip.

And lately I wonder if I had taken on these experiences I was not ready to take on
should I have not let him hold my hands
or be as close?
Should I perhaps not let anyone read these thoughts?
Because I keep wondering lately,
whatever happened to the person that instantly pulled a smile
when you were down and needed cheering up badly?
Do you remember the person that spinned around unconsciously?
That danced with no rythym and melody?

Because lately,
I have been missing the child I used to be.
Back when I didn't know the country I love is so broken, that she doesn't have an ounce to love, let alone me.
I miss ignorant me.

Because every time I seek some knowledge
and I think I'm on a path to something true
all these information keep piling up
and I forget you.
I forget.

I forget what it is like to trust
or to believe in someone completely
to let someone, no questions asked
damn, all those notebooks and pens you got me.
(You.)
You never asked what I wrote in them
you just knew I did and boasted to anyone who would listen proudly.
You.
You.
You.
(I miss you.)

And lately, I miss the child I used to be
the one that sacrified sleep for words, but in the morning rose out of bed effortlessly.
I miss writing about things I have no idea about
I miss imagination,
I'm no creator
but I miss something close to creation.

And lately,
I keep thinking I'd give up all these knowledges to bring back the innocence in me.

Knowledge is power they say
but I'd bring back the child I casted away
because the things I keep learning
don't feel like power anyway.

I forgot her.
I forgot you.
I think I'm also starting to forget him too.
And all those 'innocent' things I unconsciously used to do.

And I keep sinking.
I'm forgetting to believe.
My wandering, once again, has led me to the middle of the sea,
but I don't know how to swim.
What fool leaves the shore without learning that particular skill?

(Too low.)

And it is on days like these I hate.
Mad for the ones You took away
for the ones that left.
Utterly pissed for the messes they made
mistakes that are supposed to be fixed by the ones that stayed,
because in my culture it's taboo to speak ill of the dead.

And as of late,
I keep remembering the child I was and lay in defeat
regulating my breath and counting my heartbeat.
I stay awake,
wondering why I can't do one simple task
and get out of bed.

It is on days like these I miss the rain
even though I am a die hard fan of the sun,
I forget how to lie on these papers
and write anything but random.


#RANDOM_THOUGHTS Open / Comment