I was writing on Medium for a while, but now the internet has been shut down. Only here remains for me as a space for English self-expression.
There is one sentence from Virginia Woolf that, every time I read it, makes me feel there are parts of the dead from different years of plague and that I have left them to rot in their own way. They are full of clotted blood and circles of blood spreading all over the ground.
There was a star riding through clouds one night, and I said to the star, Consume me.
Now that I am writing, my mind and the memories inside it have become like a tree with fallen leaves. I am no longer the strongest, the smartest, the perfectionist, the writer. I am nothing. I thought I was stronger than my thoughts, but it turns out I am not. My mind is out of control. I needed to believe that I could make everything right, but I can’t; I know it now.
Like a piece of ice, I am melting endlessly, and the question is: when will my end be? I thought I, myself, was my own problem and that if I tried hard, I could solve it on my own, but it turns out I am not the only problem I have. My loss of connection with the outside world is greater than I knew. I am lost because I have lost my connection to reality.
In the stash of my mind, there are men of wounded battles. They are men who are the voices of my mind. By “man” I mean “human” in its original meaning. I point this out because I am not sure I meet the male gender standards and stereotypes of my country and culture.
My dreams have sometimes shifted to German. A few nights before, I was in Frankfurt; I’ve never seen Berlin in my dreams. I mostly have an idea of Leipzig because of Wilhelm Wundt and Vienna because of my dear Freud. I had a dream in which Darwin and Freud were talking together about “the reason behind the melancholy.”
As you see, even my stream of thoughts is not in order. Their tissue is rugged and scratchy. Believe me, when I am writing them, they make sense to me, but when I read them afterward, they seem like a jungle of words to me once in a while.
There is this song by Lena Malia called Schön genug. It has touched me since, and I can’t forget it. I don’t know how I ended up falling in love with the Deutsch language, but it did happen.
She — Lena Malia — talks about the possibility of being blind even when you have healthy eyes. You can have beautiful eyes, but forget the beauty you have been surrounded by.
She criticizes the perfectionism that modernity has brought us. We can have from heaven to sea by ourselves, but still not be satisfied with what we have. The question is how much beauty is enough for us to be content.
Aren’t we enough for ourselves? The way we see the world is wrong, disrupted, and distorted. Isn’t it? We have lost our touch with reality. I understood what she’s talking about when I watched the movie “The Map That Leads to You 2025”. Why can’t we be directionless and live in the moment instead of planning so far ahead in the future?
I am reliving the past, it seems. Like a déjà vu experience, in my mind everything repeats non-stop. It has made me unable to read or do anything. I just can write. Writing calms the rhythm of my mind. I am not startled by bites of snakes in my dreams. Somehow I’ve got used to the pain, but when they wrap around my body, I can’t bear it anymore; it awakes me. The smell of their skin activates the threat system, and my body reacts in a terrifying way.
Nothing removes all this pain, but putting a few pieces of ice on the skin above my heart and on the places bitten in the dream suspends the pain temporarily.
Occasionally, this idea comes to my mind: what if I were a waterbird, or maybe, “wish I could be a waterbird.” I’ve got this idea from Annabel in the movie “Restless 2011”, and it has remained with me since.
When you’re a waterbird you can embrace the sky and the sea. You can migrate and continue your life in different places. You can travel because you’re flexible and light and transitional.
When you’re a waterbird you aren’t tied to mortal beings or stuck in moments of the past and future. You admire every moment instead of holding on to it or trying to forget it. In summary, the life of a waterbird is the life of a free soul if you believe in reincarnation.
If you would like to get a sense of “reincarnation,” I recommend you watch the movie ‘Infinite 2021’.
Once Albert Einstein wrote:
“The distinction between the past, present, and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion.”
Of course, he isn’t talking about the concept of time, if you ask me. It is about how we connect things together and make a web of relatedness between them in our minds, like the influence of wind on the flag of sailing ships.
The circle of connections and the inevitability of wrong turns in our lives has created a necessity in modern relationships called “trust in self-disclosure”.
Although I am aware of how much trust can be time-consuming, self-disclosure is the only way to increase the rate of this process.
But gradually, through time, I have come to the realization that “my definition of subjects really matters.” Now I am not sure what the truth is when someone calls it by this name, as if what he or she is talking about is absolute.
For understanding the concept of “truth,” I found out there is no initial truth. It’s just dozens of pieces of information, each one true to its own being but belonging to different worlds of being. If you look at ‘truth’ this way, then there is no such thing as absolute truth and also no such thing as logic, because both of these are more personal than they seem.
Therefore, I came up with this concept called “pre-story,” which explains that there is a pre-story to everything, and our lack of knowledge of it makes us judgmental.
We perceive the world through the stories that we tell ourselves, and I believe in this. The evidence for it is that all I know about myself is part of a bigger story called “my personality.” Then, if this is the truth we want to accept, everyone deserves a chance to be given.
I wish we would take more time to understand ourselves better. Due to the existence of a web for each initial thought, if this web is uncoordinated and not oriented according to our personal values, then we act based on ghostlike thoughts, by that I mean: “kinds of thought that are instant and in a rush.”
I call them ghostlike thoughts because they truly are. There is no guarantee of the safety of these kinds of thoughts, and if you ask me, please do nothing about them. Just let them come and go. They’re like bugs in the coding part of programming or mutations in genes.
This isn’t the only thing that scares me.
The legitimacy of being voracious as human beings scares me the most. There are moments for each one of us when we’ve been scared of our lust or desire to do something that wasn’t based on our values. And it may seem revolting every time it transports itself to a part of our being that kills the control we have over our actions almost all the time.
I mention this because now I know: the more I want, the worse my well-being gets. There is a limit to our comprehension and our capacity to take things fully in. It may sound a bit corny, but it isn’t about not being ambitious; it’s about being careful that what you want or achieve isn’t part of your personality.
Your degree, your car, your house, etc. — none of them are part of your personality. Personality is built on a series of subjects defined by ourselves and objects that have influenced us through our character development.
It’s a dismal life, a life full of wants but no love for yourself and others. You need to take care of the things that you love through a relational, not transactional, relationship.
The only one who stands between you and your compassionate self is your dark sarcasm as a defense mechanism, because deep down, you feel you aren’t worthy of love, even toward yourself. To understand this concept better, you can watch the movie ‘Un amor 2024’.
I hope I didn’t seem like a teacher. If it did, plz excuse me.
