Letters From an Ordinary
Cheap fix
Deep streaks. They only go as far as I do. I wish there was another way to feel it. Whatever it is. But no. This is it. This way only does it. No other vice could feel like so. Smooth and glazing, each streak flowing with grace. Ruby streams down my veins. Judy screams down my face. Or esque. I feel it all. Deeply. Truly.
Do I wish I hadn’t? Do I look with remorse at what I sliced? Or do I sit back and watch as it flows? Watch it fall. Maybe letting the river do its thing. Take with it all. Everything that has been. Everything that I am.
I can’t witness the murder of the very self. As much as it urges me to. I can’t just sit back and let it die. So even though I want to let go. I keep holding ever so tight. Why can’t I let go? I wish I had. It wounds me to stay. It haunts me to say.
Everywhere I go, grimly he reappears
He’s not leaving. He’s here to stay for a while. Even though I beg him to go, he remains. What is he trying to teach me? Should I accept and learn to in his presence, rather than fighting him? How do I do that? How do I make my peace with that when deep down I know it hurts. It affects my every fibre, every second of every day. He never listens to me, and why would he? He holds the power. He casts his shadows on everything I do. He repeats, grimly; I’m here. Are you?
Sometimes you have to step away from things to find how much you want them. How much they mean to you.
This is something that’s been on my mind, regarding regret and missing out. Sometimes something good comes in your life, and instead of savoring it, your instinct to sabotage it gets the best of you. Even still, you try not to dwell in pain thinking what could have been, and instead admitting: “I liked that; the next time something like that comes in my life again, I will be patient. I will nurture it. And I will try my best to keep it in my life”.
Infans Aeternus (Eternal Infant), the take on Carl Jung’s term
Inspired by Jung’s coined term: Puer Aeternus. This is an adage to his work which signifies an eternal youth trapped under a gauzy blanket. Transparent enough to show a distorted version of the world around oneself.
Veritas Vincula Frangit
Truth breaks chains. Always. Seek nothing but.
Blossoming
Enough to thrive, not too much. Too much water drowns the blossoming flower. Just like in life, enough of everything but not enough to kill it. You need to become who you trust, and to build yourself. But focus on yourself all too much; and you lose sight of the world. You ignore all the other details. You become the only thing you see.
What do you do to clear the fog out?
Do you read? Do you write? Do you dream? I am a very dreamy person. It’s what I do. It’s what I’m good at. One way or another, time passes. You just have to seek for something to fill in the blanks. So - what do you do?
Beneath
I feel like my personality is almost hindered or layered under something sometimes. Basically I feel like I can’t be my true self, it’s hard to let my personality shine through. I find it much easier to let it show when I am under the influence. I feel emotionally muted, and sometimes numb.
Foggy thoughts, I find it hard to focus and listen to people. It’s hard to concentrate and pay attention to people. I often find it hard to think clearly, sometimes it affects my thinking too
O Gemi Bir Gün Gelecek… (That Ship Will Arrive One Day…)
Turns out I am the one building the ship, plank by plank. Day by day. I never thought of it this way when getting the ink done, but it resonates with me.
Figure
Why is it that there are some things in my life that for some reason I can’t figure out? Am I unable to understand? Or am I refusing to? Connections with people is one of them. For some reason I can’t seem to figure it out. It’s the pattern I’m interested in, not the people necessarily. It’s the lessons I want to be a student of, not the people.
Other people? Everyone you lost. Am I always wrong? No but mostly I am, find those. Sometimes the math adds up, mostly it doesn’t. That’s what bothers me. How do most people live? How do normal people live? How do social people do it?
Tales in Ink
The pain you get when getting a tattoo feels refreshing.
Because for many, the world feels uncontrollable, their mind feels messy, and pain or visibility through tattoos and piercings becomes a coping tool, a badge, or a reclaiming of the body.
Something I learned
You are alive, you are living. It took a while to feel this way, but I finally feel it..
Imprint
I think you left an imprint on me, one even I don’t know how to mold back.
Trip Reflection
Rephrased and composed by ChatGPT. Originally my thoughts.
My Mind: My thoughts felt slower, quieter — like they were coming from somewhere underneath the usual noise. Sometimes they’d speed up again, but mostly, they felt softer… different. I wasn’t thinking about tasks or outcomes. I was thinking about being. I had moments where I tried to convince myself of dark things, like leaving life — but those thoughts couldn’t overpower how much I still loved being here, in this body, with these hands.
My Body: I spent a lot of time just… admiring. My hands, my rings, my forearms — they were beautiful to me, over and over. My face, though, was strange. Unfamiliar. Like it belonged to someone else, maybe from a different place. But even that didn’t scare me — it just made me curious. I felt like I was watching myself from a distance. Not detached, but… gentle. Like, “Hey, look at you.”
My Heart: It swung like a pendulum. Joy, sadness, stillness, grief, awe. I felt so grateful for music — like I owed the artists everything. I sang, vibed, surrendered. I visited hard emotions too. I let myself look at them, feel them. But none of them swallowed me. They just passed through. I think I felt most grateful for myself — for being able to dance with those emotions without breaking.
My Eyes: My palms looked like they were breathing. I saw the inside of them — and trees. It was like I was holding life. The lights shimmered. My rings sparkled like they were alive. And the moon… the moon was everything. I saw it and felt small, peaceful, infinite. My outfit? I adored it. I felt like me, but better. More true. More embodied.
My Soul: I felt connected to the Earth — not in some big spiritual blast, but like… a quiet truth. Like I belonged to it. I felt the oneness. Like we’re all part of something. Music cracked my chest open. I felt like a vessel. Not empty — just not the center of the story. Just part of it.
My Self: I let go of needing to be someone — my job, my major, my story. For a while, I was just light. Just movement. Just awareness. And I came back with something unexpected: a deeper love for my hands. A quiet awe for being here. A memory of how it feels to just be alive, with no expectation.
You have a personality, it’s just hidden deep underneath
Now what? Does it begin, or does it end? Does it really make sense to live life like a check list. Without anything genuine? Doing things just to say you did them? Why not go for more? If I start writing there will be no end to it, but what is the point? Will it get rid of the thoughts? Do I want them to go away? I feel like there has to be an explanation but I just can’t figure it out. Help is a must in some regards. Write more in notebook? Do you have a personality? What are you doing in life? Are you living or are you surviving from day to day. It’s so hard to decide on something. Like super hard. Whatever choice you make, you will have to live with.
Is art my way of living, or a pastime?
Am I creating an artpiece through my life, or is it something I enjoy every now and then?
Instincts sometimes stray you wrong, but they’re the only thing that ever set you right. - ModernWisdom
Sometimes you just have to follow that “itch”. Careful though, there is no safety here. The only consolation you might get is that you really tried.