to exist

is already a problematic situation.

it really is hard to believe

if you think about it. 

especially if you dream a lot 

while sleeping. 

and also

it is more than an issue of believing in it

it is an issue of experiencing it as well.

on every level it's an issue.

then

you find yourself in a situation

where

your existence is not a problem of your own

but

is a problem for a group of people, too. 

while you are trying hard to 

make believe 

yourself

that 

you exist 

and 

maybe for some reason...

there comes a group of people

with dark faces

yelling at you

saying that

you shouldn't be existing the way you are.

so

even though i am not quite convinced myself

i would still say:

"i do exist. deal with it."

love me love me

say that you love me

:)

there are some words
that
if you never say, they will hinder everything else.

you might say:
could you please pass the salt?
while those unspoken words are lingering in the air.
and so
even if someone passes the salt
and you salt your dish
it would not taste as salty as you want it to be.
'cause all the tastes
and all the scents
and all the sights
and all the touches
are now under the shade of the unspoken words.
'cause now
you are...
gone.

and no one knows that you are gone. 

when she speaks

on church street

11/09/2011

When I first arrived USA two and a half years ago there were two lines, B and Q, from here to Manhattan. B line was express. So it wasn't a big deal to live far in Brooklyn. Then MTA took charge and announced that B line would not be running express for the upcoming 2 years.

Unfortunately too sick to go out to take a picture of B train, so I just googled one. Here's the source: http://brandonjulien.blogspot.com/2011/04/weekday-service-changes.html 

I remember standing on the platform and reading the post. I told to myself: "Fine! B will start running express right after I leave USA".

Time has passed. 3rd of October arrived. Supposedly I was going to be back in Istanbul. But I'm still here, living far in Brooklyn and B is express again.

I don't know how those two and a half year has passed? Time is more express than B train and 35 minutes is still too slow for me to commute Manhattan every single day.

Human beings' lifes are full of paradoxes. How come 2 and a half year could pass faster than a 35 minute travel?

***

Life is short, moments are not.

sometimes i feel all i see is just a canvas. people. places. rooms. animals. trees. i feel i can tear off the scene and finally get in touch with the reality beyond it.

this world is too complicated for me.

i am a prisoner

of

the language i use.

all the things i want.

all the things i buy.

all the dreams that i dream but don't dare to make them come true.

i am a prisoner

of

myself.

need a breakthrough.

any leads?

it doesn't matter

if you travel there

or

here

or

far away...

if you travel with the same baggage...

well,

as i said.

it doesn't matter.

recycle my life please.

i am between

the editing

the writing

the casting

the cooking

the smiling

the crying

the running away

the staying

(...)

between

to be

or

not to be

bipolar.

waste.

desireofplayingbasketball.

needtochange.

stillalive.

needtodie.

summary of a day.

notes on #Jan25

remember me

'cause i looked into your eyes

i was breathing once

then

just

a blast

"Yesterday we were all Tunisian. Today we are all Egyptian. Tomorrow we'll all be free".

let the history to be written by not the powerful but the right one, once.

why should i leave home?

all i need is this, this, and this.

and i have them here.

so what's the point?

some people are like vampires.

but a bit different than original ones.

they don't suck the blood out of you.

they are more interested in your stories...

your life stories which are full of mistakes, miseries, regrets...

but not joyful ones.

and when they approach you.

and when they ask you with a voice full of curiosity

"did something bad happen?"

and if you open up because you are in a desperate need of human closure

then

they suck your story out of you

and leave you there

with a feeling of being raped, in a way...

then never come back

until the next time

they see you with a sad face.

there is nothing as tomorrow.

and i always find myself listening to this

when i think about tomorrow that doesn't exist at all.