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{May.21.2017}
We had a big fight.
He texted me, “I’m gonna call you in two hours.” Then he called, spending the first 15 minutes or so yelling at me. I’d never seen him this angry before. Last time he was pissed at me we were in one room. There were a whole lot more I could try to do to make him feel better. This time I could only talk to him on the phone. And I didn’t know what to say.
So I was just listening. He said he hated me. He hated me so much he wanted to hurt me. But then he also realized that it wasn’t completely my fault. Not at all, actually. But still he was furious.
I asked him, “what do you want me to do?” He said he didn’t know. And I said: “If you want me to go away I can go away; if you wanna blame it all on me I’ll take it; if you just wanna keep yelling at me I’ll be here; or if you wanna hurt me...I’ll take everything.”
He calmed down. We talked through it. We were good again.
I said it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing that we fought. It’s not like we were fighting all the time. And couples fight inevitably. We are two completely two different human beings, of course we have conflicts. The big and small fights we had actually also made us learn more about each other. He agreed, “we have to learn how to fight.” he said.
And you know the best part about this is? That I never for a second doubted that we would be able to work it out.
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{Feb.12.2017}
It’s been a month since...it started.
Never thought I’d be in this place. With him.
At first we were both all weirded out. Now we’re just really used to how everything is.
We text everyday. Literally everyday. Hundreds of texts each day. And very often super loooong texts, like in paragraphs. We talk about our feelings, our past, our plans for the future (except that I don’t have one). It feels like we rip out our heart and soul and show them to each other.
It feels great. He told me he’d never been able to be so honest and talk so frankly to any of his partners. I have always been honest and open in my “relationships”. But never this much.
Interesting thing is, the more I know about him, the more I feel like I don’t know him that well. It’s like, the more you read and the smarter you are, the dumber you feel, and the more you realize there are so many things out there that you don’t understand.
I think that’s why I’ve been so interested in him. Not like how I usually I get bored after dating someone for two weeks.
In this past month I’ve learned so much about him, and about myself as well. It’s been a wild and deep adventure. It’s magical, electrical. And I’m only talking about our mental connection here.
Though there is a vital issue between us.
We want different things. And let’s just say that there’s no way that anyone of us could compromise. Plus we wouldn’t want the other person to comprise.
So, I don’t know what to do. We communicate so well that our friends are shocked. We really have no secrets to each other and it’s been working well. But the further we go and the deeper we get, it becomes inevitable to think and talk about our future. I mean I could totally shut it down. But he would mention it by saying things like he already saw me in the long term. I didn’t freak out. I felt comfortable and pleased to hear him saying that. So this idea got into my mind and started growing on me. Now we’re all about the long shot.
But there’s no long shot for us. We should both know that. Yet we’re still trying to figure it out and make it work. It’s just so cute that we’re not even avoiding talking about it. This problem is just hanging there, open in the air. We get hurt by just looking at it. And we’re not hiding it away.
Isn’t it just fantastic.
I read a quote today, saying one day someone will walk into your life and make you see why it never worked out with anyone else.
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{Jan.09.2017}
Look at this man in front of me.
He’s cute. Fluffy hair, green eyes, long arms and fingers. Great smile, too. Got those wrinkles when he smiles.
It’s beautiful. Yet reminds me of his age.
I never fully understood the fact that he was a little older than me, and all of my friends. He’s 15 years older than me.
He never talks or acts like he’s that much older. We all hang out together and act stupid when we are drunk and wasted and high. He’s just like one of us.
But look at those wrinkles.
He’s got a wife, a child. He’s got responsibilities, which I don’t understand. I have only lived about half of his age.
He was in the army. He’s been to Afghanistan three times. After getting back from there he started taking anti-depression.
It feels so good when you get close to someone and start unfolding this person’s life stories which you were not a part of. But this man here, his life is just so much longer than mine and none of his stories I could relate to.
Aging is a horrifying thing. And life, too. Future is a hopeless end.
Stop thinking about it or you’ll just end up having anxiety.
Yes, I shall. It’s just so weird to have these feelings I’m having right now. Never have I ever really thought about this until I hear this man’s stories and start picturing myself in a life alike.
But then again, what can you do sometimes?
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What Istanbul Taught Me No.2
Two explosions happened last night.
I heard the first one while I was drinking with friends in a restaurant in Besiktas. I thought it was thunder. But one friend was like, did anyone hear that? That wasn’t thunder. I thought he was being paranoid.
Ten minutes later my phone started buzzing like crazy. Messages and news. Turned out that that one friend was right. Two bombings near Vodafone Arena and Taksim Square.
We decided to stay where we were instead of going to Taksim as planned. It was probably not the best time. So we kept talking and drinking and laughing. I picked up my phone from the table once in awhile to respond to friends who saw the news and were checking on me.
We really wanted to get drunk in Taksim that night. It was Saturday night and we just watched a hilarious Christmas pantomime. We didn’t want the explosions to stop us.
So we went anyway.
We got drunk and had fun, despite that several roads were blocked and we had to detour a little.
This morning I read on the news, 38 people were killed including 30 police.
I didn’t know exactly how to feel. I still don’t. There was anger, sadness, hopelessness, confusion...but no fear.
Maybe there was one second I was not sure if I should just go home and stay away from the crowd. But I didn’t want this slight trace of fear to stop me from enjoying life - a chance that a lot of innocent people lost yesterday.
When it comes to terrorist attacks, there’s really not much you can do. I feel lucky that I am still alive, safe and sound. So what I’m gonna do is appreciating life more than before, and enjoy it as much as possible for as long as I can.
I guess this is my way of saying fuck you.
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What Istanbul Taught Me No.1
Women'a safety is threatened. Of course I know women are oppressed everywhere in the world. They're forced by social norms to display femininity and to just be pretty; they're told it's more important to be a good wife and eventually a good mother than to have a successful career...But in an Islamic country like Turkey, it's a whole new level of oppression. Women are harassed on a daily basis, verbally and physically. Safety, as a basic human right, is threatened.
#Istanbul#Turkey#feminism#feminist#thoughts#gender equality#sexual harassment#aufschrei#human rights#humanitarian
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{Oct.26.2016}
It’s been two years since I wrote something here last time.
Now I’m in Istanbul. Never thought I’d end up here. Well, I didn’t “end up” anywhere. It’s just a phase. But you know what I mean. I never thought I’d be living here.
This city is amazing. Men are creepy. But everything else is pretty.
I think about Pamuk all the time. The first time I read his book I was like 14 or something - way too young to understand him. Yet this book impressed me, it kinda carved an image of Istanbul in my head and left it there ever since.
And then one day when I was walking on the street, I randomly thought of this image I’ve had of Istanbul. Then I realized that I am walking right in the image that I created by reading Pamuk.
Weird feeling. But wonderful.
It almost feels like you’re walking in your dream.
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{Dec.12.2014}
I've fallen for someone.
I barely know him. We met two days ago. He picked me up in front of the house I live in, took me home. Showed me his electronic guitar. Offered me a glass of apple juice. He works part time at the best local club as a bartender, meanwhile applying for schools. Because he had to drive me back so we decided to go non-alcohol.
We talked. Played music. He blushed every time he tried to find the right English word, which was extremely cute. He's two years younger yet 38cm taller than me. His hands are like twice big as mine. He was wearing Aventus from Creed. He leaned in to let me sniff his neck. And I could smell it mixed with my Black Opium from Yves Saint Laurent.
And then we kissed. Slowly and gently, which I loved. He lifted me on to his laps. My hair was all over his face. So we had to stop to put it behind my shoulder. I was holding his face with both hands. I could feel the beard he trimmed earlier. And his big, cold hands sneaked into my top, squeezing me real hard. Then my phone started playing Kiss Me from Ed Sheeran. Right on time. I wasn't even playing the playlist, which I named "Make Out Session", and it just popped out. It felt like your favorite song popped out on the radio. It felt like fate.
He asked, will I see you again? I said, if you want to. Then I asked him when. "Tomorrow?" I couldn't help smiling.
I had to leave before things went too fast. Because I needed time apart to think how I want this to be and how I can make it how I want it to be. Also I need time to see how he would deal with it.
But then I realized that he's leaving in half a year. For college. So why bother? Just have as much fun as you can.
I really don't know. Either way I should probably not think too much. Because it won't help.
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{Oct.29.2014}
So I went to the bookstore today.
I got a copy of Will Grayson, Will Grayson by John Green. Of course. I'm so in love with John Green lately, well mainly his books. I don't know why but books give me an illusion that I feel warm and being hugged. It's a great feeling, especially in cold days like this.
Yes it's getting cold here. I'm still wearing short shirts but I sneeze. That's when that I know it's getting cold.
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{Oct.24.2014}
Maybe I should start reading more novels. Like Charlie did.
I just finished reading The Perks of Being A Wallflower, which I bought like 88 weeks ago. I didn’t count the days though. Instagram counted for me. I just loved this book. I mean I knew I would love it. But when closed the book, I was thinking, I really love this book.
I love Charlie’s tone of talking, I love every word he used, I love the stories been told, I love the songs been played. The tunnel and the truck fitted right in. The lines “I felt infinite” and “We accept the love we think we deserve” are so over used. But when you read them as a part of the whole book you’ll realize that they should pop out right here just a second before they actually pop out.
Now I’m thinking seriously that I should probably study English Literature or something like that, instead of studying German or Gender or whatever. But the thing is, I’m not sure if it’s a good idea to study something you only do as a hobby. Maybe reading English novels only makes me happy when I don’t have to read them as an assignment. And besides I don’t think I can get a job after graduating with a Master degree in Literature, English Literature. I’m not even an American or British. Can I write things in English better than those native speakers? Well I can write in my own language too, of course, but then what’s the point of having a degree in English Literature. Maybe I should go studying Literature in my own language.
But then what’s the point of coming all the way to Germany?
I’m such a mess. I never know what I want, I only know what I don’t want. And even at moments when I’m trying to figure out what I really want I keep doubting myself with all the arguments I can come up with.
I’m such a mess.
#the perks of being a wallflower#stephen chbosky#novels#literature#diaries#reading#writing#young adult#teenage fiction
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