i’ve been met with some very hateful and ignorant people over the simple poll i posted on my story: “is english your first language?”. it simply astounds me that citizens, living in a nation where only the english language is taught throughout the years of public school and into college while second languages like spanish and french are taught as “electives” and not focused on extensively, think that they have the right to criticize those who have come to this county not knowing a single word of english, but are still trying to learn. it astounds me that people can still criticize the well-spoken yet somewhat imperfect english that citizens of different countries with different native languages can still communicate well with. it astounds me that others see it as a requirement for those choosing to live here to speak english inside and outside of their homes, but if those hypocrites were to move to another country abruptly—either by choice or for survival—they probably wouldnt be able to speak the native language there either. where did the compassion go? where did the tolerance go?
"Yeni değil hiçbir duygu ama rutine de dönmüyor.....taptaze bir heyecanı yaşıyorum....Nasıl yaşamam ki, o kadın gözlerde kendimi görüyor olmak insan yüreğime iyi geliyor.....münzeviydim ben senden önce, şimdi gülümsüyorsam tüm sebebi senin gülen yüzün..... işte uçuşuyor yine saçların ve ben rüzgara kızgınım senin tenine değdiği için ama bir yanda seviniyorum rüzgara, seviyorum yüzündeki saçları parmak uçlarımla uzaklaştırmayı.... batıyor işte güneş ama kimin umurunda.... sen yanımdasın ya......" düşüncesi kesildi burda adamın..... kadın dönmüş ona bakıyordu ve kadın her baktığında adam için hayat duruyordu....... (photo by @yol.hikayem )
Gerçekten uzaklaşıyorum, farkındayım..... belkide en doğrusu bu..... bilmiyorum..... artık bilmekte istemiyorum...... huzurla kalın dostlar..... istanbul'a dönüş vakti..... beni ancak o mezbele paklar.......
To love your flaw(s) is a quintessential attribute ; howbeit, to accept someone else’s imperfection is an act of kindness. In a world where false front is essential, lets cherish the unpretentious values and the radiance exists in one’s heart. Lets put our hands together and pray for a world where love will always exist within angry hearts.
Punchlines. ••• I am the punchline of my own artistry:
My aptitude is the court jester,
running my life and narrating my exposition
touting its boisterous fanfare like a desolate bazaar
Bizarre is a way to phrase my illogical contemplations
Spirals intertwining with spirals that ends up
Looking like some futuristic highway exit ramp
Amp up the anxiety and social dysfunction
Because I can no longer differentiate or sustain
Whether anyone even likes my ramblings
Rambling on and on like some sycophantic astrological being
I speak to myself more than I talk to other people Even though I must explain myself to me, I understand
Understanding is not something that comes easy between me and you
Because your head works like it should and mine ostensibly eradicates
Every little fragment of personality that someone graced me to still hold
Holding onto the past preoccupies whole paragraphs of thought
But the language is a tongue unlike those of this planet or dimension
And yet you understand because it comes from you and goes not out but to you
You are yourself somewhere buried under the dirty laundry
Left by all the people whose lives were better without you in it
Even though you continue to persevere, push, prescribe pills, and try
Trying to make this make sense makes me feel inferior to my own mind
But I am my mind and I am my thoughts and my pain and my future
As my past and peers disgrace me like David Lurie’s victims and I hurt
Hurting does not stop and it never fucking will
Since people continue to hurt you and your mind takes that and runs
Because your mind makes it so you physically cannot move around anymore
Any more of this and I will bleed out
Of my chest and my cavities kill me
Because this is not for me, or my mind, but my soul.
This is the punchline of you and me.
This is the punchline of we.
This is the punchline of artistry.