The Ocean Of My Love

   Love... It's like jumping into the river without knowing how to swim, without having any guarantees that you will survive...

   And even if you die, you know it's going to be worth it. Blinded by the emotions you are willing to give everything for the feeling you have while jumping off the bridge. You don't think about the consequences while flying in the air, feeling the true freedom. You are willing to jump into the river, knowing it might be the end, just for those couple seconds of happiness, freedom and unity with yourself.

   Just like the love stories, the rivers are also different from one another. Some choose the nice and calm rivers, that give them peace and comfort. Others prefer the crazy rivers, live along the risks, dangers, speed. Some step off the small bridges, so close to the river. They just walk into the water and start their way with the calm river. But some choose the high, dangerous bridges. They are hunting for the feeling of satisfaction they will get when reaching the river after jumping off the bridge, risking everything, including their on lives.
    Just like all the rivers, the love stories also have different rocks and difficulties on their way. Some people fight against the big rocks on their way, others find a boat and make the road easier. But there always will be those who will use the same boat to just run away from their love, to get closer to the shore and get as far from the river as possible.

   Love is just like a river... calm in the morning, crazy at night and faster the next afternoon...
   Love is just like a river... somewhere closer to the bridge, somewhere further from the shore...
   Love is just like a river... It can be full of spring flowers and autumn leaves, that fell into its waters, but it can also be full of rocks and dangers...
  
    What about me? What kind of river did I choose? How high did I jump for my love? What risks was I willing to take?
     I did not choose a river at all, because I was chosen by the deepest waters of the ocean. There were no rocks on my way, because I had miles and miles of the open ocean to fight against. I had to cross the half of the globe, crossing the endless waters of the ocean, without knowing how to swim.

   Love is like a river and you choose the kind you want to fall into, unless you get chosen by the ocean...


                                                                                                            © LiLit Ghazaryan 

We Can Fly People

  The book of the past... I opened it again and the old pages started telling the old story. I don't even know what makes me go back. Did I miss the old tale? Maybe. I don't want to go back, I don't want to go through that anymore. But still, something forces me to go through those old, dusty pages, to read them one more time, to read out loud. Why?
  I want to change the ending of the story. I want it to be more realistic or just less selfish. We made it all so complicated, people always do that. I wanted the story to have a simple ending, something that is expected, but leaves no marks.
I want to change the ending, to make it so small and unimportant so that I will never look back to the old pages. I want it to be so certain and even boring so that the old book never interests me anymore. I want to change the ending, so I can simply move on and forget the old book.
  How funny... We people are so funny and poor. We take the smallest matters and turn them into a giant book. We take a sentence with no meaning and follow it for the rest of our lives, our pathetic lives. We give meanings to things that are not important. We are scared of the facts that maybe do not even exist outside of our imagination. Maybe we live nowhere else but in our minds. Maybe we are nothing else but characters of somebody's dream. Eventually that person will wake up, we will vanish away, the dream will be over. There will be nothing left, the dream will be gone, we will be gone... Everything will be gone, except those worries that we created long time ago. Those worries will still be hanging from trees like empty jars, with a strong surroundings and no meanings inside. Is that all we leave to this world? Empty jars of worries and problems? How about colourful balloons, full of smiles? How about bright lights, decorating the dark streets? How about light paper planes taking our dreams to the wonderland? How about...
  When did it happen? When did we start carrying those heavy bags of books? Why do we still carry those books of the past events? Why? We could fly. People could fly if they wanted to. I could fly if I was strong enough to leave those old books. But no! We carry them, we take them with us everywhere! We go back, read the same pages over and over again, delete the word and replace it with a one that is more aggressive, more painful. And we keep reading it, imagining it, again and again, again and again... and again... again... again
   I'm tired people, I want to fly. I want to  be as light as a feather in the wind. I don't know about you, but I'm throwing my old books away.
  I want to fly! I am going to fly!

                                                                                                                     © LiLit Ghazaryan  

The "Nothing" is Talking

  -How pathetic...

  -What's pathetic?

  -I'm pathetic!
  -You?
  -Yes! Me! Just look at me. Sitting here all lost and confused, acting like a lost little bird on a strange land. But then I think am I acting? Maybe I am lost in a strange land.
  I'm pathetic.
  Is there a mirror here?
  -Why do you need a mirror?
  -Why?! To look at myself, to look at me face and try to figure out if there are any features left. To try to understand if I have at least a drop of character left.

  Mirror... Do you see anything there?
  -I see your reflection
  -Am, I beautiful?
  -Well, you look pretty.
  -Pretty... nah, I'm pathetic. Look! There is nothing, just emptiness. My eyes... they are almost gone, I can see nothing in my eyes. And they were so deep and full of emotions once. Do you think I've lost my emotions?
  -I don't know
  -Well, I do. And yes, I did! I lost everything that showed that this person is me, actually was me. Who am I now? Nobody, nothing, an empty space, a mistake. But no, if I was a mistake people would at least notice me, some would try to fix me, but nobody sees me, so I am nothing.
  I'm nothing people!
  Can you hear me?
  I'm nothing!
  How sad is that, they can't even hear me.
  -But I can
  -You? You can't even talk
  -Yes i can. I am talking now.
  -No my friend, you are not. If not me then you wouldn't talk at all. You are just my imagination. But wait, I said that I am nothing, so I guess I can't have imagination either and that means, my friend, that you are also nothing.
  We just don't exist!
  Me and You!

                                                                                                                              © LiLit Ghazaryan  

I Want to be Your Emptiness

  Your silence...
  It's killing me.
  I sit there right next to you, trying to figure out what's going on, doing anything possible to pull out a single word from your mouth, but all you do is just sit there quiet. Without making a single move, you're staring at the same place, at the same emptiness. You don't say a single word, you don't even move your eyes and I can see the same emptiness reflecting in your own eyes. I sit so close to you and still I can't reach you. You just close yourself up, you don't let me get closer to your soul, you build a wall between us in your mind, against which I'm powerless, I'm nothing.
  Why?

Until this very day there's a part of you that you're still hiding from me. Even after I've opened up myself like a book in front of you, you still have dark corners hiding somewhere, not letting the light reach them.
  Am I still a stranger?
  I thought I had won your trust a long time ago, but turns out it was not enough. You broke me, you opened up my eyes. No matter how close I get, you still keep a distance between us. Why?
  How silly of me to believe that this was something different, that there was nothing but a see-through curtain between us and our hearts. Now I see that it's a cage, a glass cage hiding you from all, including me.
  So simple and yet so deep...
  So close and yet still so far...
  Right when I thought I've reached you, you back up again.
  Am I asking for too much?

  I just want to be truly close to you. I wanna be there. I want you to stare at me and not at the empty space. And yes, I will even be willing to be that emptiness for you, just stare at me next time, I will be your emptiness, please, stare at your emptiness... Stare at me...

                                                                                                                          © LiLit Ghazaryan  

The Midnight Sun

   Don't ask me any questions my friend, I don't have answers for you, I don't even have any answer for myself.
   Does it hurt? Not anymore. It's been painful for so long that now the pain has turned into a part of me, a small piece that I have to carry with myself, because the reality is that it will never leave me. That piece is you, my friend, you and the distance that is standing between us.
   Did I need to go through all of this to realize who you really are for me? No, I knew it already. What was this journey all about? What was the meaning behind it? How could I be so blind? Leaving all you have for gaining something you wanted so badly... Was it worth the price? Was it a wise decision or a reflection of the wish staring at me?
   I tore myself into two pieces, two parts that will always be fighting against each other. Will the battle ever end? No, it's a part of me, a  part of the struggle I carry around within my broken soul. I draw a self-portrait with two different faces staring at one another. I turned my soul into a hallway with sliding doors and the ghosts of the memories keep hunting each other in those hallways. I did this to myself. I divided myself into two selves that are so alike and so different at the same time.
   I watch sunset while the other part of me desires to see the sunrise at that very moment. I try to get lost in the darkness of the night and the other half of me is seeking for light and sunshine. I stare  at the moon while the other self of mine sees the sun in the bright afternoon sky.
   And what do I get as  a result? A sunset followed my morning, the sun shining around the midnight stars.

   Don't ask me questions my friend, I myself have a lot of them, but I've stopped asking any. I blindly look at the sun, shining brightly in the middle of the night, surrounded by millions of stars...


                                                                                                                          © LiLit Ghazaryan 
  

The Damaging Help

   I was standing in line, waiting for my turn to check in. Another flight was waiting for me, another short trip about which I was neither excited, nor worried. Two people were standing in front of me. From their conversation I figured out that they were father and daughter. The daughter was a young woman and it was obvious that she had a visual disability.
   I was busy with my own thoughts and was not really paying attention to them until their turn came to check in. The assistants wanted to help the woman and carry her on a wheelchair. The father was trying to explain that she didn't need any help, but they insisted. That's when he lost control over himself. Seeing that the staff did not pay any attention to what he was saying the old man got so upset that started to yell: "My daughter is blind, but her feet are fine, she can walk perfectly! She just doesn't see, but she can walk to the airplane herself..."
  "It's ok dad" was the only think the daughter said and sat on the wheelchair.
   The father's eyes turned sad, the upset impression turned into a feeling of guilt, he looked sorry, sorry for his daughter and for himself. There was so much pain on his face, he would probably just sit there in the middle of the airport and cry if he was not so embarrassed. He was watching his daughter leave on a wheelchair, feeling completely helpless himself.

   I was already on the flight back home, but I could still hear the old man's voice: "My daughter can't see, but her feet are perfectly fine!"

                                                                                                                                                               © LiLit Ghazaryan 

The Monster... Jealousy

  I look at you again with that tricky smile and ask "Are you jealous?". Even if you are, you try to hide it using all your professionalism, without even realizing that the only answer I want to hear is... "Yes".

  Yes, I want you to be jealous, maybe just for making sure that you still care. I need your jealousy as a sign of care, attention, as a proof  that I'm still loved and wanted. Yes, I want you to be jealous, I want you to feel how it hurts. I want you to realize that love is not always sweet, romantic and nice.
 You think I'm cruel? I'm just weak, I'm lost in my own game. Why? Because of all the other ways I choose the most silliest one just to be sure that you still love me. How stupid of me... And how risky at the same time. I know, I know that every second you can just walk away, that's what the jealousy does. It's like the narrow line I walk by and I can fell on any side of the border every second.
  I fight against a non-existing wall between us, creating a real one. I'm walking through the fire, hoping it will bring back the flame of our love and instead it's burning the only connecting bridge we have left.
 "Are you jealous?" Please say "Yes"... Please...

Jealousy is a monster, it can be cruel, bitter and blind.
But there's  a kind of jealousy that we all need sometimes.

Are you jealous?
It's not the question that matters, but the answer...  Sometimes...

                                                                                                                   © LiLit Ghazaryan