In the blink of an eye what you were and what I am merge to form the thickest blend of colours I’ve ever seen. I’ve never seen myself this broken but stating the fact breaks me more… I’m looking for the right brushes to complete my painting. A painting that never existed in the first place. Your words still so loud in my head, your thoughts still so brave inside my mind, I’m looking for beauty in a place love has been lost way before time could turn back the hands of the clock and in the darkness I’m trying to reach out for you but the closer I get, the more distant you seem to be. I’m trying to fix myself with all the things that break us and I know this because I’ve been there myself. Call me what you want but I still call myself yours. Broken, sewed back together wrong, and packed with words swallowed with pride because life takes turns and I took the wrong one. Where you and I stood trying to figure out the rest of the road I looked back to make sure we had come the right way and now that we’ve passed two stops from there, I’m not too sure anymore What if, i think more often than I say I do. What if, you and i weren’t the beginning or the end. What if you and I were always just two characters to the story that twisted the plot to make the story interesting. Those characters that live in the corners of the readers’ minds, bothering them like a silent itch, a distance away from where they need to be. I’m breaking apart and you hold me tight but your firm hold only breaks me further. I’m trying to break the silence but your words scream louder than my words have come to know you and knowing you has become not just the best thing that happened to me, but also the worst. If it is as simple as you say to forget people, then why do you waltz your way back into my conversations over and over again as if life is a song that never ends? Why do I still sing the words louder than your own inside of your head? Where are you, I wonder often and I stop myself short and remind myself that I’d rather not know that you’ve been looking through my mind again. I draw all the circles I need to around you so that when you reach out to touch me I’d be gone faster than you’d think I could but you still leave traces of yourself behind in me so that we’re still a part of each other. With the warmth of your touch, even the coldest walls crumble at our feet and the truth falls into place.  I’m trying to run away from your words, but I stumble upon them and fall two steps back. You’re always there to pick me up, but did you ever notice that it’s you I’m falling for?


You Belong Too

This includes a great deal of things I’ve been trying to tell myself lately. It wasn’t until I was done answering a question in class that I was able to put the words onto paper, and then here.

Breathe, then speak the words you know,
Where you’ve come from and where you’ll go.
Tell them; Tell them, all of everything,
Don’t stop for anyone, Don’t stop for anything.

And when they tell you you’re an idiot,
Laugh aloud and laugh with all your heart.
When the pain washes away; cry.
Sob until your eyes and sore and tears dry.

Pick yourself right back up and walk away
If where you are is not where you want to stay.
When your soles can’t  bear your weight
Remind yourself of why I think you’re great.

Here’s what I need you to take from me:
You are full of everything you need to be,
Brains, beauty, humour, love and tragedy
You often stumble but you always walk steady.

Go ahead, be all you are, it’s really alright,
Never; Never come down without a fight,
Confuse them, try and do prove them wrong,
And when they least expect it, be strong.

If the days are too long and the nights short,
And if you can’t find what you’ve sought,
Hold on to these words I wrote for you
Remind yourself that you belong too.


Sarcasm at it’s best

iberieli's blog

There are no beautiful places in countryside Alaverdi

This is one of the ugliest and not unique downtowns in the world. Ever. DSC_0422

Streets in Tbilisi are ugly like thisDSC_0611

Especially when you see some ugly art nouveau style doors like this one in some of themDSC_0224 Georgian Folk Dances are so boring and not beautiful georgian danceThere are no picturesque lakes in mountainsabudelaurebiGeorgian Cuisine is so poor and does not taste good at allac65d97e1accEspecially Khachapuri does not seem to be appetizing Hachapuri2NThey have neither any nice Art Cafes amorameNor any underground placesarsadNor hipster bars in Tbilisidive bar All Georgian towns and cities are so old -fashioned and not modern BatumiAll Churches in Georgia look the samebatumiChurch

Canyons here are this green and cool in the summer, but who cares, right? kanioni

Landscape of Kazbegi is so boring and uglykazbegilandscape

Krubera Cave is the deepest cave in the world, but whatever

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Anchors mean something very special to me.


The shape of an anchor is the shape of love, embracing you to give you the warmest hug that soaks through all the pain you know to hold the broken pieces of your tired mind together. Anchors hold love, and the hands that touched the rusted chains know the pain of rough edges held between fingers, sealed away from time and thrown into the ocean knowing all too well that what’s gone will always come back different. The sound of the heart that survived the storms and sailed across empty oceans whispers  of the oceans that name the seagulls, reminds me of all things warm and hopeful… like the last sip of tea an hour before midnight, like messages in bottles that sailed faster than we did, like the twinkle in the eyes that watch the stars with me. Anchors are symbols of love, passed down generations to fit in each life like the stories that rest so comfortably in your heart to point you to where you belong.
Anchors are so full of love; anchors are all I know.

This one’s about a girl I met seven years ago. At the time, she could be hardly more than 5 years old.. she’s probably about 12 now. Wherever you are Sajini, I hope you’re doing very well.

For the last few days I have not been able to keep you out of my mind… I remember the way you looked at me the first time I saw you; how you watched me. You watched as I nervously walked amongst the people you had no choice but being friends with. When I looked back at you, you turned away and in all your shyness you tried to walk, but you fell. I could see how much it hurt and you cried, but aware of my presence, you stopped yourself short. You looked back at me and all I saw were those beautiful eyes, drunk in tears, wanting to start a conversation but not knowing how. I mingled with the others, with you on my mind throughout and I could feel you staring at me as I talked to the others, as I held their hands, as I patted their backs and as I smiled at just how much they could do. When I thought you were ready to speak to me I came to you but you said no word at all. Somehow I understood everything you wanted to tell me. With an innocent smile that had survived through all you’ve been through you looked away from my eyes, explaining to me everything that was about you that you couldn’t say yourself. You were a beautiful story by yourself and I didn’t write it for seven years because I thought the story would never reach you. It could reach you today, or in many years or maybe it never will. But even if you make your way through my words to read those written about how you stole my heart the moment you touched my hand with your little fingers, you may not know I’m writing to you at all. You never learnt my name – I never told you, but I learnt yours – I asked for it. Someday I might meet you on the street and give you a smile that you’d be afraid to return because I would not be the same girl you recognized seven years ago, but let’s pretend like we know each other. Allow me to touch your hand, to rekindle the past.. the stories you told me, the love you gave me, the memories of a past we shared between a crayon box and the picture you drew of me. I’ll remember you as the girl who caught my attention trying to seek no attention at all. I’ll remember myself as the first word you spoke, and the only word I heard you say. I’ll remember you for how you carried weights on your legs to walk a little straighter and how even though it broke my heart to see you that way I smiled so you could walk a step ahead of yourself. I hope you crossed the line, I hope you can put up your words to build everything they broke, and I hope somewhere at the back of your mind, I’ll be there whispering the first “I love you” I’ve ever said.