A seasonal instinct is almost endowed.
I was stunned and again: a relative closeness that I couldn't rest in the spiral of those erratic emotions and the dynamic of emotion that was emerging, and I let my tears go: it's a relative intimacy that I hold on to with the hand of a tolerant person, as it was yesterday, because I'm already far away from life and the world and my existence only. while writing and loving, my foundation is that the swing inside of me is still able to sit on and fly and I don't want to get off because my hair and skirts are swaying.
I have replaced and sustained, but I can no longer manage my sadness, and I make an absolute diagnosis, of course, the peaks that I cannot reach, the worst thing is that the one that inhabits Mount, the huge iceberg inside me does not melt. somehow I cannot suppress my rebellion and repentance accompanies then I am actually on the verge of death: living with my body; while my soul is suffering and my heart is still beating with love.
If it's to think, especially if I start to think with the pen, my writings suddenly come to an end because my muse and I know that I shouldn't think while I love and write, even in my sleep, while my brain is producing projects and notifications uninterruptedly, is my subconscious involved in the work and yes, always I wake up tired from sleep and as soon as I open my eyes, as if those rights holders accompanying no one in sleep are missing, the cycle continues from where it left off.
Or should I say the world is the world, because it's a vast journey that I remember the first time I started in my childhood: I am ready to love and be loved with my leg running in the middle of the house in the summer heat, and I have ignited the fuse of my mind again: I wondered about my face and mouth with the feeling of self-discovery on another summer day. I am thankful that my loneliness ends in a day because I am starting school now and it is the guarantee that I will continue to be at the center of life and to sit at the center of life with different journeys.
Of course, our subject is not limited to this, and I am putting a big wind on my yesterday and teleporting to our day.
I have colors that match my emotions and every day is a different story. Actually, I am at a point where I am fixed in terms of location, but the funny thing is that I can travel between dimensions even in this fixed mechanism.
I have never been a person who likes to travel, maybe travel and travel come as a burden to me, but I did not know love as a burden, and somehow it was considered a burden. At the end of my existence, I overpowered myself and got angry with myself, and here is my starting point, more precisely, where I could sink and reach the bottom, but that The Creator taught me to be a foundation in a way, and since then, for a while, I reach the surface and breathe and release my soul from the pressure at the bottom.
Since my existence is not just my body, and even though I am light as a bird, not wanting to be loved as much as I love, I have exempted myself from even thinking, and life has thrown me to such a point that I am sad to say; Of course, God made me see how people who were not given love and tolerance vomit their hatred until they come into existence, from another point of view:
Knowing this did not help me much at first, but from time to time, lovelessness was not enough for people and officially hating returned to them as a power, and as a miserable being engaged in love, everything I felt was backfired in my struggle with myself.
In every sense, I have put myself on the table and the responsibilities I have undertaken with my perfectionist mentality, in other words, my duties and whatever the subject, I have accompanied life with love in everything I have touched, and it has come into being with all my heart and good intentions, in short when I perform it.
Even living is a duty in my eyes because we have duties as human beings, and first of all, people set out with a clean heart and conscience.
Afterwards, people who do not appear as they were: one way or another, when there was no trace of sincerity in what they said or when they performed, and before: since I knew myself, I did not even think about the possibility of being a bad person and for a lifetime I believed in people with all my purity, and of course I opened my heart to Pandora' The box of the coin was also opened, and my emotions, like dominoes, are the energy from that unknown that is formed in interaction.
Call it positive or negative, and I witnessed my soul die out, especially after what happened to me in the last few years, I realized that I am not like anyone, even though I never had such a request and one step later: of course there were people near me who wanted to be like me or who claimed or disparaged what I did. Over time, my soul eroded, and over time, life and people robbed me of the happiness in my soul.
However, while I was living and loving naturally and witty and improvising, and if someone looked for a fault and found it, I already dispersed and dispersed when my star had not reconciled with myself since yesterday.
I have been writing for almost ten years: on different sites and platforms, and there is always something going on and it hurts in a way that I do not understand, although I do not know the reason, I guessed and here the ropes break again, this time the pen slips from my hand, because I have been sitting on the ground for a lifetime, my balance is officially upset on the ground. is happening. Then my contact with the pen comes to the point where I lose the belief that I had barely developed in myself.
While I have experienced many similar things in my private life, have I taken into account those who have upset me immensely, especially in my working life and again in the last few years.
Whoever has the strings now.
On the other hand, I am considered to be in charge of serving someone like a puppet with a string, whereas my service is only within the framework of my self-respect, and since I am engaged in writing, of course, I have internalized writing with all my being so that my contribution to literature is at the maximum level.
I'm a hesitant soul, which perhaps paves the way for everything, but it shouldn't be a crime while I have just adopted the motto of living without breaking or spilling, because I was taught to live within the framework of humanistic feelings. And with the imposition of life, I am officially alienated from myself.
The domestic one is sadness.
Everything that is internalized with my faith and love, and even almost everyone.
Of course, it doesn't take my whole day to write, because I update my soul with the absorption of emotions throughout the day and is it because I approach life like poetry while continuing my life? and happiness: of course, it was a wrong statement because peace ends somehow, in addition, uneasiness is added, but this is not something that happened to me. After all, should I say lump sum if all the writings and poems I shared in the virtual environment have no return? In fact, thanks to people's perspectives and positive comments, these experiences become the material for writing the next day, accompanied by a dynamic mood of my inner world.
The way I set out with love is both a lifetime.
Being aware of the fact that love is at the forefront in every subject and that writing is a very serious act while I approach life with a serious approach, it is also a requirement of my nature to write with all my attention and meticulousness.
For some it is an unnecessary act.
Not important to some.
And many people who have different opinions, of course, I respect. After all, thanks to my dialogue with the reader, what I write gains or loses momentum and the emotions I concentrate on.
At the last turn of my looted life, my whole purpose was to paint life in the drive to love and be loved, and the only way to make my dreams come true was to write and…
