No matter how hard I resist, sometimes I lose hope

Sometimes a song I listen to takes me back years.

The memories that hurt inside me made me sad.

Sometimes memories went back to school years.

I think there is a fun class in every semester of school years. It was the same with us: I have never forgotten those funny days in our classroom, the beautiful memories we sometimes laughed and cried. I don't want to forget either.

Love is beyond longing

Like a warm sun after a rain.

Sometimes it touches you and warms you,

Sometimes it freezes his body.

Sometimes love is beyond passion.

When you turn your back and

When you decide to return

Can't find it again.

Sometimes love is beyond me.

Never try to understand...

You in me is beyond love.

You in me is beyond passion.

You in me are beyond longing.

You are me!

You cannot understand beyond!

Every time we go on holidays and return, our classes and friends change, this time our girlfriends would increase.

Five becomes seven. so the class mobility would change more.

This is how our days passed in middle school, each of us was chasing a dream and talking about what we would do in the future. Most of us wanted to be teachers.

My friendship with books started in primary school. I was in the second grade and our teacher gave me the key to the library and said: 'We have chosen you as the head of the library branch. ' When my teacher said, it was as if they had handed me the key to a treasure.

That day, I read the books I bought from the library with great joy and excitement. I never stopped reading and books again.

If I say more serious and serious in middle school: I started reading writers after children's classics.

One day, a book was being read by friends in the classroom, and when it was finished, the other friend was reading it.

While this book was going from hand to hand in the midst of a great squabble and the clamor of friends, it was my turn:

So much so that it was no longer possible to keep friends who read this book.

Our class was also a crazy class. One of our teachers was just like the teacher in this book.

But there would be so much similarity. Whenever our religion teacher made us write, as soon as we started writing, he would take off the shoes and walk on the desks, and when he saw something wrong, he would go to him and say 'hands up' and call him. If he finds a copy, woe to him.

Our childhood; another and the best times at school were passing by. We were a big family with twelve siblings, two mothers, my grandfather, my grandmother and my aunts who lived close to us. Most of the time, my father had difficulty in catering to all our needs, he worked alone, trying not to make us needy anyone. maybe we didn't have everything financially, but those were the best years of my life, especially my middle school years; Years passed like poetry, happy days with friends and family. It turns out that our times, sometimes as brothers and sometimes as friends, were an invaluable treasure for us.

When it comes to fairy tales, most evenings we listened to my grandfather's stories and slept with them.

On snowy winter evenings, I would sit around our burning stove, listen to fairy tales while eating the popcorn on the stove, after our mother's dinner that evening, and then I would fall asleep with the dreams of scary tales and sometimes a dream fairy in my head.

In those days, when guests came to our house, it was like a holiday bustle. Everyone was enthusiastic and excited. I understand now how beautiful the people were in those days, and it saddens me that those days will not come again. At that time, our children's hearts were just colorful dreams for us, going to school, hosting guests, days spent with neighbors and preparations for the holiday.

And at the end of those beautiful days, my aunt's daughter and I took the teacher's school exams, and I passed the normal teacher's school exam.

Although I saved the school for a while, some people influenced my father and confused him, so they separated me from my school, and then we started to live or not to live on the roads of life full of unbearable nightmares.

Even in this situation, I did not stop reading books or writing essays. But always in secrecy; Reading is forbidden, writing is forbidden. I had a belief that; You can forbid me to read everything, but I read and wrote whenever I got the chance. Maybe I was not successful in these difficulties, but I was still reading, since reading and writing are forbidden to me, I was breaking these prohibitions.

But how far? He reads secretly, writes secretly, even these were fun adventures for me.

Being alone in the pitch-black nights of loneliness.

Not finding water in the July fire.

Looking for fever in February.

It's like starving for days.

But the most important is loneliness;

It's like crying silently while missing him.

Loneliness pierced my heart.

When I want to throw, he can't throw,

I can't find it when I need it.

Something is pushing me towards it.

Love or a majestic whirlwind.

He says go there you will find what you are looking for.

But it doesn't give address.

To disappear is to exist.

Melting is always flowing to him.

Decreasing is not multiplying.

The longest, hardest longing

To be an inch away from him.

No matter how hard I resisted, sometimes I lost my hope so much that my only weakness was that I chose to die immediately. Then I found myself in the hospital and I was afraid of the pain I was going through.

And in this case, it was being erased so much that these pains were coming from my eyes, everything was ending in my eyes.