I wanted to say something, anything, but how do you withdraw a declaration of war? How do you stop the bombs that already destroyed homelands? In that moment I remembered how she always told me that when she was a kid, she was too afraid to sleep with the lights on. But it wasn’t white and it wasn’t quiet, it resembled something like helplessness and rage. Last night, I told my mother “I wish I was dead” in a fit of rage and winter clouded her eyes. Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire ritika jyala the world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire aesthetic art poetry hozier dark acadamia aesthetic literature lofi history quotes poets on tumblr dark academia light academia chaotic academia romantic academia lovecore cottagecore female artists artists on tumblr jane austen franz kafka film movies photography writeblr studyblr desiblr poem euphoria When does memory end and love begin? All I know is- she loved him before she remembered him. She saw this 6 foot 2 man with a scrubby beard and she didn’t know him but she said she trusted him, she asked him to hold her hand when she died. The only thing she remembered was her son’s name and when that began to fade, the one thing she always remembered was that she loved him, even in illness, even in insanity.
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He asked me when I fell in love with him and I knew it sounded dramatic to say the moment I saw him, so I told him this story of my grandma who had Alzheimer’s- she forgot her name and the words for fruit and food, she forgot her address and how to use the washroom, all her life lost to the disease. Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The Flesh I Burned ritika jyala the flesh i burned aesthetic art hozier poetry dark acadamia aesthetic lofi literature history quotes poets on tumblr dark academia light academia chaotic academia romantic academia writeblr studyblr desiblr female artists artists on tumblr lovecore cottagecore film movies jane austen franz kafka poem photography marvel
I hope you go out in the sun and live a little, because tomorrow is 37.Įdit- I added the visualizer for this piece on my YT, check it out here And I know on some days you won’t be able to show anything of those 10 years but I hope you remember to breathe, and let go of the knot in your chest. Scents will remind you of childhood and certain friends you don’t talk to anymore, hangouts will become reunions and mom’s burnt pie will become the best food you ever had. The fury of youth will subdue and nothing will really change but everything will feel different when you look at old photographs and blurry videos taken on cheap mobile phones. There’ll be a moment when you realise you’re 27 when yesterday you were just 17 and you wouldn’t be able to tell how a decade passed away and your life got divided into before and afters. Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fireĮdit: here’s the visualizer for this piece ritika jyala the world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire aesthetic art hozier poetry dark acadamia aesthetic literature lofi history quotes poets on tumblr jane austen lovecore friends romantic academia cottagecore franz kafka artists on tumblr film books & libraries movies platonic chaotic academia desiblr writeblr studyblr dark academia dead poets society light academia It’s been 3 years since I lost my best friend, lost as in I still carry our secrets in a tiny box but we only text each other on our birthdays. And I wrote a poem that day and I titled it 'The dying of a best friend’ and I put all my love for her in a tiny box with my half of the matching pendant of a dolphin we had and stored them in a corner of my heart under the heading Grief. It took weeks, months- until one day I woke up and I realized I hadn’t thought of her in a while. Movies and books also don’t tell you that friendships don’t just end after one fight or incident, it’s like the rusting of a bridge, the slow decay of flesh and bones and secrets. Seeing her in streets is like breathing in a scent you forgot you knew but it immediately takes you back to a summer in ‘07. We were friends for a decade and knew each other’s diaries by heart, I still remember her phone number and the way she took her coffee. Movies and books don’t tell you that a friendship dying is like the sinking of a ship, you try to get higher and higher and hold onto the rails and unanswered texts, the captain tries to steer it to safety and salvage pieces of two broken hearts until you’re left with memories of what once was. I lost my best friend 3 years ago- not lost as in dead but lost as in we only text each other on our birthdays now.
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