Into the Depths of Reality

Ekteena Islam

Description

Reality is a hard thing to face. Sometimes, it can be difficult to process something that has happened to us in the past, or is currently happening to us at the moment. Words that are unspoken, Truths that are hidden. These are words, spoken for people without a voice. I myself have trouble finding my own voice a lot of the times, and so everything in this book is a way of expressing myself. Most of the things written are personal, the rest are thoughts. Deep thoughts. I don’t usually think out loud but for the people that have trouble voicing their mind and their opinion, this may be the right book.

Sujets

• Telerrealidad
• Depth
• Thought
• Poetry
• Reality
• Life

Informations

• Publié par: Xlibris AU
• Date de parution: 09 janvier 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781669833840
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

Into the Depths of Reality
EKTEENA ISLAM

Copyright © 2023 by Ekteena Islam.
 
ISBN:
Softcover
978-1-6698-3385-7

eBook
978-1-6698-3384-0
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
 
 
 
 
 
Rev. date: 12/29/2022
 
 
 
 
Xlibris
AU TFN: 1 800 844 927 (Toll Free inside Australia)
AU Local: [phone] ([phone] from outside Australia)
www.Xlibris.com.au
849244

No matter how our story ended,
between our hello and goodbye,
 
there was happiness
and comfort.
 
We will both experience it again one day.
But in another story.
On a separate chapter.
 
With a different person.

Although the thought of my life without you hurts me,
I know I have to let go.
Otherwise, I know I’ll find myself running back to you
with just an ‘I’m sorry’.
 
Maybe it’d hurt less if we end our story here.
Maybe one day we will both be as close as we were.
Maybe we can have our happy ever after together.
 
But for now,
it’s our goodbye.

It went from chatting once or twice a week to talking every day after school.
 
We’d always talk.
We would always laugh at the silliest things.
We would cry together whenever we’d get bad on a test.
 
For the first time in a long time,
I felt alive again.
 
Because of you,
I felt a connection,
a connection which I haven’t felt in a long time.
 
It felt great.
It felt like my progress wasn’t all for nothing.
 
But then I lost it all over again.

We may not share anymore memories, but
at least we will always share the same sky.
 
We will always lay underneath the same stars
shining bright above us,
 
although you shone as bright as all of them combined, and
I wish you were here so I could tell you.
 
But at least you will never be beneath the same moon.

As I write about you—
 
memories,
laughs,
tears,
happiness—
 
they all come rushing back.
 
But no matter how fast the waves come rushing towards me,
they could never bring you back.

As I listen to the familiar melody playing through the speakers,
 
with every lyric I listen to,
 
every memory of you come rushing back,
like lightning on a rainy day,
 
leaving me wondering why we tried to keep it working in the first place,
knowing that I can no longer hear this song the same anymore.
I can’t think the same anymore,
 
not without the feeling of starvation.
But it wasn’t food that my body had longed for.
 
It was you.

Two words.
 
Two words can’t take away all the pain.
All the suffering I had done for you.
All that you had put me through.
 
‘I’m sorry’
doesn’t make me forget all that you have done to me.
 
Those two words
couldn’t make me forget you.

It’s crazy how one can be so close to someone
then act like they don’t know them anymore,
 
the someone that you did everything with.
It was always me and you against the world.
But you faded away from me like I was nothing.
You acted like we were never as close as I thought we were.
 
But me?
To me, you were everything.
Watching you walk past me makes me feel like it was all a dream.
 
But it wasn’t.
You’ve changed.
 
This isn’t who I used to know.

I gave in all my hope that I was actually good enough for you,
 
but when I bumped into you that day,
you were unrecognisable.
 
You weren’t the person I became friends with.
I had changed myself because you wouldn’t.
 
But you were the one who left in the end.
You left,
and I’m still waiting for you to come back.

He dug the knife deeper into her chest as she fell onto the floor.
 
‘I . . . I thought you loved me’, she said as a single tear falling from her eye.
He put a hand on her cold, pale cheek as she faded away.
 
She didn’t get it. He did love her. He loved her more than anything.
He did it because he loved her.
 
She had always told him how she wanted to die.
 
Isn’t this what she wanted?

She always brought me blue clothes.
I always returned them.
Then she made me a blue cake.
I threw it in the trash.
She wrote me a note on a blue piece of paper.
I ripped it up.
 
‘My favourite colour is red!’ I yelled.
She then gave me a gift I wish I could take back.
As she lay on the floor, with a knife in her chest,
her face pale,
red spilled out everywhere.
 
Red is no longer my favourite colour.

Because of you,
I was afraid of death.
I was afraid of leaving you behind.
I was afraid of being forgotten.
 
But just like the rest,
you left.
 
Suddenly, I wasn’t afraid anymore.
 
Maybe,
if I slept forever, the pain would go away;
the memories,
the past.
 
Because of you,
I’m afraid of waking up.

She stared at the ceiling with an empty pill container in her hand.
 
Every sound,
Every feeling,
All wasted.
 
Every blink started to get heavier, every breath started to slow down.
 
It left her to think,
Was this really the only escape?
 
If only the young soul could see the sunset one last time,
lay beneath the stars one last time,
dance in the rain one last time,
write a story one last time.
 
But it was too late.
Her story had already ended.

I looked up at the mirror,
noticing the dark circles under my eyes,
the visibility of my bones,
the thinness of my once thick hair,
the dry skin on my lips.
 
I did it.
I’m finally skinny.
I should be happy.
But I’m not.
 
Why don’t I feel happy?