Ambivalent

For me, a window is the most crucial part of a room. It is where my refuge is. I stare at the sky through it.

When I was still a kid, I find peace near windows and the fact that now I find it still the same. In a window,  I look at the birds getting busy at sunset. I look at the sky attentively till it turns dark. I look at the stars while I do cross-stitching/ writing or doodling. And in the morning I watch and feel the mists outside.

In your window you are looking in a different dimension.

You are an observer and the things observed thinks like you are one. Those times when I cannot scream but through it my soul voices it out loud peacefully. By looking at anywhere, fury just dies out of me and replaced beautifully of what a sight could bring.

You are in a journey. And you meet people and some you will learn to love and they perhaps will love you back in return. Sometimes it's like a tornado-short and intense. And some are like whirlwinds- exciting, confusing and in it feels forever.

To be loved back is a certain existence of scarcity and rarity- you became what we call a blue diamond. Blessed and cursed at same time. Blessed as you are one of a kind. Cursed because of its beauty your freedom and a tendency to be lost with your self is such a huge probability.

But now I prefer to deliberately involve thinking and make time and control to win over my heart. Its like I am bleached with a sand paper through years I get so sensitive and scratched by realities that I begin to live not like a child.

When it rains and I am at a window,  it reminds me everything. Moments when I pray hard to feel nothing- neither love or hatred, to need or love. Those when I sat serene and so happy when sun light touches my skin. Thoughts heavily bring a lot of emotions and I became ambivalent.

For two decades- life- things (that includes experiences actually) happens and what you want and love doesn't seem to be what you really need.

As much as I want to stay. I rather leave. It's the only way. I came up with realization that Love is more rational. I live out of fantasy, those fictions of romantic literature, the happy endings and infinite sweetness.

I try to be clear enough. To be spontaneous. To live as it is. To plan nothing but for my heart to be ease. To love and only when its true not because I need it but because it is being naggingly irresistible that being existed beautifully alone without me. And I hope simply that he sees me the same. That imperfections are fun contradictory. And that we share those both worlds with respect. And with mutual decisions we create a world in our own without losing the very world we each created with such strong individuality.

But then, I am ambivalent and we all are anyway.