What is offered to me in dreams, in imagination, I seek in reality. There must be things more beautiful, equally beautiful at least, existing in reality. I seek them, but I can not seem to find them so often and when I do ever so rarely, I lose them before another moment arives.

Why is such magic presented to us, becoming a part of us and then told it is not real. Why is not reality advertised so beautifully as it should be? Is the world of imagination the world that used to be, is it reality, now only the remains of what is used to be? Is is it an escape for humans to create such wonderful storylines, such wonderful creatures, such pleasing adventures? Yes, it is.

It is a dying wish of the romantic human kind to have such an epic love, only written by dead poets and experienced by unreal lovers. Is it the dying wish of our inner dead lover to live in a poem…

Why so much complication, why so much effort to be perfect? Life ends so quickly, sos ad, so quickly and memories are harder to keep now, harder to remember properly, never enough to dwell on. What does my mind do, torturing me constantly? So much inside my head, which of those thoughts, of those memories should I burn and let go of? So sad, I feel, so unsatisfied and then guilty because I should be satisfied with what I have. But isn’t it human nature; constantly wanting more than what you have. I can not be blamed for being a human being, the most destructive yet incredible creature of all history.

I miss those moments you feel extraordinary. Those rare moments when you are amazed by the actual beauty of nature, of people, when reality is truly satisfying and you know you’re a part of that something. That something you can never name. I miss those moments of absolute freedom, love and feeling truly alive. I really do.

Defne Kartal, 19.11.2012
February 2nd, 2013 at 07:04pm