Yazıt

"What can I say that hasn’t been said before?" I am so tired. And I lost myself long before. I think I’ve lost my inspiration too. I don’t really want to live anymore. There’s a pitch-black hole inside me, the heaviest object in the universe. Devours my light, pulls me inward. Crushes me down to my atoms. Today, I am grey again. How can I compress everything I’ve lived through in an entire life into a single feeling, and describe it? Maybe that’s why silence is best.  Because the more I speak, you’ll understand me less. And yet, I feel like telling you, What can I do? "Writing you is a kind of necromancy." Without you, my sentences collapse into broken syntax. If it weren’t like this, if you were here… Then even I could be happy! The world would cease to be a place full of suffering; Living would no longer be nothing but pain. I would want to have a child with you. Summer would be her name. She would be named after the sun rising into the darkness inside me When ...