i have to write this one in black ink because it is the only one i have with me at this moment. but i will underline every word with the purple ink once i get a grip of it, promise. isn’t it also the entire manuscript of life itself? you have to do it with what you have first. then you can underline every part of it with the one you love. and it’s not because you don’t love black ink. it’s because it is not the one you love.
write what you know. then you will learn more. build the wall first. then you will get to paint it with the color you love. perhaps, get the bed and lay there first. then you will embroider it with the one you love. make the coffee with the French press first. then you will get the machine. but don’t forget that you may miss the taste of the one with the French press if it was enjoyed with the one you love. passion loves synchronicity with love.
everything in life consists of being present at a certain place in a certain moment. meaning is built on the road. the road earns meaning at the stop. be there and do that. let the feeling of new beginnings creep in. but make sure to add passion to it. and perhaps, you should stop before you move. perhaps you should stop because you want pace.
and you believe in love. and you miss love, if it is something you could ever miss, for you should first have it to miss it. right? but you do not miss any of them from your past. you say no to every almost love knocking on your door to welcome the real one, if it’s ready. attention doesn’t do it. sex doesn’t do it. passion, all passion wants synchronicity with love. to be complete is never about the person. it’s about all sorts of passion falling into synchronicity with love.
so, in a sense, you stop feeling your existence for a while in order to be able to say “i’m here” with the full weight of a full life.
the one who says “i’m here” combines the consciousness of waiting and being in the start of the road in her attitude. she knows she is standing still, waiting, perhaps for something or someone that will not come. and she knows it. but at the same time, she knows that when the time comes, she is certain that she will hit the road. when she says “i’m here” she is also ready to say “when the time comes, i won’t be here”, “once i find the way, i’ll hit the road”.
includes a reference to the author and philosopher Oruc Aruoba, with a piece from the collection titled “the self“, translated by me in my comprehension.
wuthering heights by Emily Brontë, written under her pen name Ellis Bell, is an epitome of a gothic novel. the atmosphere, metaphors, and symbols are all carefully presented in a way that can engulf the reader into the darkness of the book. it is melodramatic in the best way possible. wuthering heights will melancholically show you the subversive nature of “love” and how it bravely haunts the two souls it invaded forever. tragic, melodramatic, dark, and haunting. it is so easy to find yourself trapped inside the darkness when it comes to something as strong as love.
“you said i killed you, haunt me then. the murdered do haunt their murderers. i believe, i know that ghosts have wandered the earth. be with me always, take any form, drive me mad. only do not leave me in this abyss, where i cannot find you!”
love isn’t a feeling. it’s the mixture of so many dense feelings all at once. that’s why it is so complicated. love breeds many more emotional complexities along with itself. it brings joy, hope, lust, vulnerability, disappointment. you get to know yourself once again when you are in love. it is so complex that people know themselves once again when they are in love. perhaps that’s why we don’t say “she loves” directly but we say “she is in love”. that preposition could never be this powerful. you are in love because it’s a state of mind. a strong one. a brutal one. a haunting one.
some stories cannot be surmounted by weak sentences. the story of Catherine and Heathcliff is one of those stories. Emily Brontë shook the hearts of the ones who would otherwise claim to have a strong stamina to such a dreary atmosphere. criticized by contemporaries, adapted to cinema with erotic takes in modern movies with Margot Robbie and Jacob Elordi, Brontë keeps the ghost story of the Yorkshire moors mainstream.
love is haunting. every love story becomes a ghost story eventually. the pleasure that makes you feel like you are going to die in the beginning, ends up killing you. the stars you see in the eyes burn so bright that they turn you into ashes and dust. then a funeral is thrown for the undying love. if one is brave enough to be haunted, love is buried and blankets are thrown over its cold ghost. then the other one starts watering the flower beds on the grave with crocodile tears. but when she haunts you, you will feel the coldness of her heart, in your heart. when she calls for you, you will hear the echoes in your mind. her tears will be on your face. her blood will be in your hands. and when she finally hears your fearful steps following her, her ghost will ask for one last dance. every love ends up in a ghostly scene. grace is overrated when it comes to love. curses don’t work. freedom shakes your body every time her ghost passes through you. the wailing woman reigns your hills. your disquietude means nothing to her.
in the end, the every love story becomes a ghost story. and generally in the end, love takes the woman. the woman takes the man. because being soul bound is stronger than any desire. no spoilers for the movie.
your romanticized solitude and your overstuffed melancholy will be the end of you. your devotion to desperation is almost like feeding your soul with poison. the idealization of the individual being good on its own is the modern tragedy. it creates a generation that doesn’t know about being home sick. disconnected from reality. disconnected from pain. disconnected from empathy. disconnected from trust. disconnected from each other. the price of the dolled image of solitude is putting you inside your houses, alone, isolated from human connection, so that the only way you can feel connected to others can be through buying things. the secret they don’t want you to know? people need people.
yes, you have responsibilities toward other people. no, you are not cool for saying “this is who i am”, “i don’t care about anyone else”, or “i only need myself”. you are a part of something bigger than yourself. the later you accept this the longer you will suffer. “i don’t owe anyone anything”, yes you do. you owe the friend who said “text me when you get there” a text. you owe kindness to the kids to prove them that it still exists, that there are still things worth getting better for. you have the responsibility to ask people you love how they are doing every now and then. no you’re not an individual who is outside of the commune. no, that doesn’t mean you’re free. it is quite the opposite. you’re less free every time you get fooled by the “you don’t need anyone, you don’t owe anyone anything” propaganda. because people need people. all the time.
the same structure that makes you believe you don’t need anyone, the same structure that takes away your ability to trust people, connect with people, befriend people, and care for people is going to sell you trust through baseless modern day therapy. it takes away your ability to trust and love people so that you can pay someone to listen to your stream of thoughts and pain like a friend. without judgment. the same structure locks you inside your house behind closed doors so that you can only feel connected to other people through purchasing things. but all of this will feel odd. it will never fill the void. because it lacks what’s human. sympathy. that’s why, people need people.
“emotions are not a luxury. they are complex helping hands extended in the midst of the struggle for existence.” (António Damásio)
but don’t worry. the road teaches you how to walk. you first become human when you think you are going to die from nonphysical pain, but you don’t. because if you never go to sleep with the sun with something aching inside you, you can’t make it alive. so cling to that. you lose yourself because you reject to accept the suffering. you become arrogant because you refuse to feel shame. you are avoidant because you build your walls too high. your pieces are shattering in different places of your life because you refused to cry that night, when you should’ve cried. because it ached. and when you love, scream. scream it inside. scream it outside. but accept it and live it. unconditional and unrequited sincerity is the pedestal love is sitting on. life beats right there. because people need people.
in his book “la distanza della luna”, Italo Calvino says at one time, according to Darwin, the Moon was very close to the earth. do you know what happened next? the tides gradually pushed her far away. the tides that the Moon herself causes in the earth’s waters, where the earth slowly loses energy. he says that the moon was closer back then. climbs up on the Moon? of course they did.
today, there is a new moon in capricorn. the moon may not be as close as she used to be, but she is still above us. and i still feel protected and nurtured by her.
they say that the new moons are the ideally divine times to set intentions. so, here i am. and tell me this, how impressive and beautiful it is that the new moon falls into monday, in other words, the Moon day, when the theme of the whole day is intuition. i love it when the universe sets us up for such emotionally tingling coincidences.
in the middle of everything that has been hanging from the corner of a magical propeller that is called my life lately, the only thing i manage to know for sure is that i love words. i have always believed in the power of words and have always tried to combine them together in ways to understand myself, understand others, and understand the universe. i have always tried to build them together to make myself feel the life again, and again, and again. so that perhaps one day, when someone else reads those words, they get to feel it again and again. and we make it immortal. romance can be immortal, love can be immortal, a thought and a feeling can be deeply immortal. that’s why, i have a tattoo right above my right hand, the hand i write with. it says “we write to taste life twice“.
simply put, i want to keep writing. just like i wrote when i was 8. i am incredibly content that i have never abandoned my one true love, which held my hands in the darkest of times and in the prettiest of it all. and my intention is to keep writing. my intention is that one day, my words will be heard and seen and celebrated. and my words will touch a 14 year-old girl’s heart. my words will hug a young woman in her twenties. after all, the joy of writing turns into the joy of reading. after all, the agony of the writer turns into the shelter of agony for the reader. after all, i am meant for this.
i do want a life of my own. i do want a story that is mine and i know i will be proud to call it mine this time. and for every girl who yearns for a different life, i want to prove that the propeller is going towards the right direction. even when it feels like it’s not, it will make you land on the right spot. and for every girl saying “it doesn’t rain in Septembers where i live“, i want to say “you’ll have new Septembers“.
don’t lose your lust for a better life. when i take a step back and look at my life from the outside, i see myself being thrown under earth. and then i grasp all of it. and then i scratch again. because i take my light from the moon. even though she is not as close to us as she used to be. the distance of the moon doesn’t mean she gave up on me. the distance of the moon doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel me.
when i was 19, i wrote a piece called “not mine” and depicted the yearning for a life that is not mine. i begged for a story that was not mine. everything i lived and the way i lived them made me crave for a life that was not mine. then, on may 13, 2023, when i was just about to turn 22, i wrote this.
murphy on the bed.
“i moved into a new flat with one of my best friends. the flat is just like the ones i dreamt about when i was a kid. so, the child in me is probably very happy. i finally found her a place to be. a place where she can belong. a real home to feel safe and loved in. we also have a cat, she makes the house a “home”. i think i really found a place for my inner child to finally feel safe in so that i can move on with myself.
i can perhaps finally turn to myself and give myself the time and space to grow and glow. i can write for myself again, i can read books again, i can drink coffee for just the melancholy and peace of it. these are my last days in 21. i’m turning 22 in 19 days. i wonder what is there to come. will i fall in love? will i write poems? will i find myself and take her with me to the next date i go?
in any scenario, this is a new life. and every piece of it is mine. that feels amazing. every piece of it is mine. a story that is mine. and i do not think i want a story that is not mine anymore.”
today, i am 24. and i am cautiously optimistic that the marvelous and creeping feelings of new beginnings will find me again. and perhaps life is all about endless loops between craving for a story that is not yours and feeling glad that the story is finally yours. and for some reason, i can’t stop myself from smiling at my 19 year-old self and my 22 year-old self, just like i will smile at my 24 year-old self in a minute. because in a minute, those marvelous feelings of new beginnings will be knocking my door again. and in a minute, i will be glad that the story is mine again.
i am begging for a life that is not mine. something else. anything else. i am searching for a dimension that can take me in and change everything. an alcoholic drug addict author waiting for inspiration in a garage in Amsterdam, a flower lady dreaming about her lover as she grubs up the plants, a bookstore owner in London trying to escape the crowd to find inner loneliness, a child learning the alphabet. something. anything. i am begging for something other than this.
i am worried about the book in my hand as i do not have an umbrella with me on a rainy day. a gloomy day getting swept away by slight drops of rain. the line that stands between the passengers and their bottled-up feelings of agony is filled with a puddle, soon to be covered by a train. i am worried about the book in my hand because letting a defenseless book get wet and worn off under the rain would be a poorly planned murder. i do not have an umbrella, you see, what i have on me is a seven-year-old crimson, chequered vintage coat. i am trying my best to hide my copy of Le Mythe de Sisyphe by Albert Camus inside it. when the train that lets you get a full tour of the city -unintentionally, of course, due to its horrid velocity- arrives, i get in and start filling my head with thoughts that could get me through this.
i imagine getting off in a town that is not mine. i get off in the town of red leaves and wisteria. the walls are embroidered with crimson touches of nature. the air… well, the air spreads life. i am under the spell of this town somehow. i walk and walk some more until i am a red wisteria standing in the middle myself. i do not like it when i am unarmed, which happens when i do not have any trees or leaves in the street surrounding me. so, i take a turn and step into a narrow street full of trees and their hidden treasures. homeless folks blended into the greyness of the town. embroidered trees. old cars are covered like they have something to lose. and finally, hidden stores stuck between buildings and branches.
i see myself getting into a vintage store and hearing the stories of the clothes hanging there. a plaid shirt worn by a painter in Italy, she painted the happiest painting ever, then when she wanted to be happy herself she poured all the paints she used into her stomach. a velvet dress worn by Hedy Lamarr, who knows? a wallet carried by one of the first publishers in England. they all have stories. stories that are not mine. stories that i want to be mine. i wake up because i have to. i see the road coming to an end. i have to get off now, step into reality. i have to walk the streets of a town that is mine. every single day, i have to stand in my own shoes, living a story that is mine. i am searching for a place to escape. if i cannot bring my dreams with me, if i have to leave them at the door, that is fine. perhaps i can have dreams that are not mine.
hear me out. i am begging for a life that is not mine. throw my pages. i need pages that are not mine.
spirituality is a treasure nowadays, more than ever i think. not to escape reality but to make the most of it. and when you think about it, you’ll see that every belief system has the same core. they all come from one shared idea that is sculpted and interpreted in different ways. but the core stays the same. similar rituals, similar sins and similar ethics. superstitions and folk wisdom, faith and spirituality, mythology and practices. they all go hand in hand. and this is actually something beautiful.
in 2018, i met tarot readings and the other side of spirituality when one of my high school friends gifted me tarot cards. then i got curious about the 78 tarot cards, as well as witches and the history of it all. luckily, it was also when a captivating Netflix series called Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, an adaptation of Sabrina the Teenage Witch, with mythology and Shakespeare references, aired. how can an English major and literature lover like myself stay away from it? of course, i also started reading lots of books and articles related to magic, witches, and spiritual practices. you gotta enjoy being a woman in the 21st century and not directly being executed for being interested in something while you can, right?
today, i want to share some of the notes i took while doing research on this matter. so here are my witchy notes from the witch handbooks i read and came across.
days and their spiritual meanings
according to spiritual practices, many religions, and mythology, every single day has a different energy. each day has a concept it represents, a special power, a specific scent, and more.
sunday
sunday represents creativity, hope, optimism, and healing. in alignment with the common belief, sunday really is the day of resting, recharging, rewiring your mind with positivity, and spending time with yourself and your loved ones.
ruled by the Sun
color scheme for sunday: orange, yellow, gold
chamomile, amber, sunflower, and cloves go really well with sunday.
when it comes to natural stones, sunday is more about amber, topaz, citrine, and carnelian.
monday
monday comes from “moon day”. going parallel with the significance of the moon in astrology, it has a divine meaning. monday is all about intuition, beauty, home, and it is the best day for women’s rituals. us girls should really be spending our mondays wearing rose and lavender, putting on our jasmine perfumes, meditating with our moonstones and crystals but the world isn’t ready for that conversation.
ruled by the Moon
best colors to carry on monday: white, lavender, rose
the natural stones that fit the energy of monday: moonstone, aquamarine (I know you thought about that Addison Rae song, me too), pearl, and quartz crystal.
use these scents on monday: jasmine, white rose, moonwort.
tuesday
well, not gonna lie, tuesday is the “mars day”. that’s why, some beliefs say chaotic and unexpected events can take place on this day. however, tuesday is a great day for the concepts mars rules, such as career, sensuality, and physical activity in general.
ruled by Mars
of course, being the “mars day”, the color of tuesday is rightfully red. tuesday is second on the list to own the color red, right after Taylor Swift.
the natural stones for tuesday are ruby, bloodstone, carnelian, and pink tourmaline.
red roses, pepper, garlic, and pine are great plants and herbs to use on tuesdays.
wednesday
in Sabrina Carpenter‘s famous words in her hit song Manchild, oh boy. you must be familiar with wednesday’s notoriety from the hit Netflix series Wednesday, starring Jenna Ortega. back to mythology, wednesday is “Odin’s Day”. it is ruled by mercury and Chiron. they say people born on wednesday tend to be weird, anxious, and somehow restless in a spiritual way. however, mercury comes bearing gifts. wednesday is a great day for writing, effective communication, intellectual pursuits, and public speaking. i really want to drag Donald Trump saying except you are him, then nothing actually works but he was born during a lunar eclipse and people born during lunar eclipses are natural leaders. i just wish he chose to use his Gemini wit for good.
ruled by Mercury
the best colors to use on wednesdays are green, light blue, yellow, and orange.
the natural stones for wednesday are aventurine, sodalite, and opal. (sleepless in the onyx night, but now the sky is opalite!!!!!!)
for scents, use cinnamon, sweet pea, and dill on wednesdays.
thursday
thursday is my favorite day. i get the best vibes from it. thursday is considered lucky and abundant in almost every belief and some religions. thursday is ruled by Jupiter, the planet of luck and it is a great day for business, politics, good fortune, material wealth, and legal affairs. some even choose not to cut their nails or hair on thursday to avoid shaking off Jupiter’s blessings and luck.
ruled by Jupiter
choose the colors purple, blue, and turquoise on thursdays.
the natural stones for thursday are amethyst, sapphire, and turquoise.
for herbs and incense to use on thursdays, check out cedar, oak, saffron, and cinnamon.
friday
the name of friday actually comes from the Old English, meaning the “day of Frig”, in other words, the day that Freya rules. Freya is the goddess of love, Odin’s wife in Norse mythology, the Nordic Venus. that’s why, friday represents beauty, fertility, sex, love, partnerships, art, music, and friendships. friday is a great day to have sex and cuddle with your lover.
also, friday is considered to be a sacred day in one of the religions, Islam. Muslims come together and say a special prayer on this day. according to Islam and The Prophet Muhammad, the day of judgment will be on a friday.
ruled by Venus
the special colors for friday are pink, violet, and shades of green.
the natural stones for friday are rose quartz, emerald, pink tourmaline, and jade.
plants and herbs for friday are apple, pink rose, ivy, rose, lily, and sage.
saturday
saturday is the saturn day. so, it represents protection, family, discipline, duty, manifestation, and completion, just like saturn itself. saturday is again a great day to take care of your family, clarify your duties and discipline yourself, as well as manifesting.
ruled by Saturn
if you love wearing black, saturday is the day for it.
black onyx, obsidian, amethyst, and smoky quartz are the natural stones for saturday.
when it comes to plants and herbs for saturday: mandrake, ivy, oak, rue, and moss. however, be careful as many saturn herbs are believed to be toxic! (I learned this from the Witches’ Spell Book by Cerridwen Greenleaf).
the day you were born
now let’s talk about the specific features of the people born on each day, as well as some famous examples.
sunday birthdays
people born on Sundays are naturally confident and they radiate a beautiful energy. they leave great impact on others, and they are usually loved by masses.
monday birthdays
people born on Mondays are intuitive and spiritual people. they can sense things, they are the feelers. family, women, and homes are important for people born on mondays.
tuesday birthdays
ambition, strong will, determination, and a talent for influencing others are the features of people born on tuesdays.
wednesday birthdays
people born on wednesdays are great communicators, they can be great writers, speakers, or activists. but they can be restless.
thursday birthdays
lucky people are born on thursdays. people born on thursdays are joyful optimists, in love with learning and life. these life-long learners are very intelligent and they inspire others.
friday birthdays
people born on friday have a natural charm, social charisma, leadership qualification, and they can be good at the arts.
saturday birthdays
people who were born on saturdays are true believers. they are strong, mature, hardworking, and disciplined individuals.
famous people and their birthdays
here is a list consisting of some famous people and the days they were born for you to use what you just read about and see if it fits!
Taylor Swift was born on a Wednesday. (Sagittarius)
Zohran Mamdani was born on a Friday. (Libra)
Mahatma Gandhi was born on a Saturday. (Libra)
Ariana Grande was born on a Saturday. (Cancer)
Barack Obama was born on a Friday. (Leo)
Sabrina Carpenter was born on a Tuesday. (Taurus)
Lady Gaga was born on a Friday. (Aries)
Olivia Rodrigo was born on a Thursday. (Pisces)
Donald Trump was born on a Friday. (Gemini)
Kamala Harris was born on a Tuesday. (Libra)
Lana Del Rey was born on a Friday. (Cancer)
Charli XCX was born on a Sunday. (Leo)
Queen Elizabeth II was born on a Wednesday. (Taurus)
Rihanna was born on a Saturday. (Pisces)
Beyoncé was born on a Friday. (Virgo)
Selena Gomez was born on a Wednesday. (Cancer)
now go and check your birthday and come back here to check if the day you were born fits your features! feel free to comment.
now i have my whole life packed at my parents house. now i search through the boxes for cotton to remove my nail polish and one gaze at the quickly packed cotton, taken from once my very own bathroom, i feel tears in my eyes. you go through hard times, you handle them fast with survival instinct, six months pass and all it takes is one gaze at the cotton in your packed boxes. it took you this long to process, turns out.
now i am sleeping at my childhood bed. the bed my grandmother died in. i even have the same pink sheets with flowers. i used to decorate one simple shelf with the books i have. now it takes three bookcases. now i have less dreams. simpler dreams, for sure. now i look for peace.
now i bake cakes. but even taking action towards that took one day of persuasion. because now i can’t take action. ordering perfume, ordering a lipstick, ordering a moisturizer because my hands are too dry. it all takes weeks of persuasion. i must be stuck somewhere. because now i am all about planning and scheming.
now i am far away from friends. now i am looking at their happy pictures together from afar. now i have to like each picture of them together to prove that i am not bitter. at times like this, accepting i have the crazy does not take any persuasion.
it knocks my door with great long-lasting curiosity
please take it away if it’s not meant for me.
now i welcome the new year all alone in a room at my parents house, can’t even call it mine. trying not to be bitter, trying to sprinkle positivity on top of this celebration of mine. a celebration of solitude. a celebration of having a marvelous time ruining everything. a celebration of a prayer being answered, the prayer being “it knocks my door with great long-lasting curiosity please take it away if it’s not meant for me.” i prayed in may, just before my solar return. six months passed and now it is a celebration of a prayer being heard. life took everything that was not meant for me. and i can’t unsee the magic in that. you shouldn’t either. see the magic in it. take it as a celebration of a prayer being answered.
now, you know what it does? do you know what praying “please take it away if it’s not meant for me” and it being answered does? it makes you see at a great certainty that what is still here with you is meant for you. and that gives me the chills.
orpheus is a poet and a musician whose music could move even gods. he falls in love with eurydice. she dies from a snakebite, he descends into the underworld to bring her back. his music softens hades and persephone, who agree to let her return. on one condition: he must not look back at her until they have both reached the surface. he looks back too soon and loses her forever. what is most precious yet irretrievable? love, innocence, art, or inspiration that cannot be held without destroying it.
there were times when i looked at someone too soon and lost them forever. there were times when they looked at me too soon and lost me forever. in both cases, under the sweet moon, the agony and despair hold hand in hand and enter the scene. even the loveliest of music cannot stop someone from leaving if they made up their mind.
i have different journals for different loves of mine. they all start with claims of an undying love. they all end up being disproved. when love first ends, i can almost drown in my own sorrow. any minute, i may jump and fall into deep water. no need for me to put rocks in my pocket, my burden will pull me down asunder. she can start breaking all the mirrors any time now, you may say, she can rip herself apart. sensing the heaviness her hair causes, she can pull all her hair off just to feel a little lighter any minute now, you may say. then you give it some time. you don’t get what was all the fuss about.
that’s how it goes all the time and you know it. i give it some months and i see the good in it. then i believe in love again.
i believed in love when it all started, i believed in love as it was ending. i believed in love when they left, i believed in love when i was the one leaving. both in birth and death, interestingly i believe in love. but this is no made up belief. this is a belief that is intertwined in me, like the gods of the ancient, love is my favorite hoax.
in the words of Taylor Swift, looking back guess it was kismet. (from The Life of a Showgirl, title track featuring Sabrina Carpenter)
kismet:noun, a fair force out of your control. partly Turkish, partly Persian.
here is a poem by me, yours truly. i wish it could become a song.
the strangest and the most surprising part of being in your twenties is how subtle you expect growth to be but how obvious and perceivable it takes place. it’s true, you expect it to be subtle, walking in your veins as you go on with your day, only to feel a little itch now and then.
in reality, to my surprise, it’s brutally evident. you feel every step that is taken in your veins simultaneously. you feel a pain that can only be depicted as the spiritual form of physical pain. someone’s kicking you in your guts. someone’s punching you in the face of your most vulnerable emotions. and you feel all of it. there’s nothing subtle about it.
you were, what, 13 when you thought about love and different types of pain and found them too complicated to be comprehended, let alone getting used to it, it was as if a disease with side effects of throwing yourself into your bed face forward and listening to music you would never normally listen to, laying there for hours until someone disrupts your unique misery.
now that you’re about to turn 24, you are used to it. you know love comes and goes. you accept it. you no longer find every romantic interaction, movie, or song lyric “cringe” or unhinged or overwhelming. you just know it’s out there. now you understand the romantic lines and songs. now you know what they were talking about. just like many other forms of pain that you never thought would exist. now they feel like itches in your veins every now and then. full circle. we came back to the point where we started.
it’s complicated, you’ll get used to it.
“Where does it all lead? What will become of us? These were our young questions, and young answers revealed. It leads to each other. We become ourselves.” Patti Smith
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