Traveler in a Suitcase!

I tried to learn what happiness meant
but the closer it came,
the more I flinched.
It shimmered like a prize
and felt like a threat.

Nothing is evitable.
Not grief.
Not joy.
Not the eyes that followed me
with quiet verdicts.

Why don’t we feel
the weight of joy
the way we ache for sadness?
Why does pain
arrive like a certainty
while happiness knocks
as if it doesn’t belong?

They said:
Don’t worry.
Sadness brings rain,
and rain brings rainbows.

But I’ve stopped waiting
for colors to prove I’m real.

Now
I stay quiet.
I become
the one in the background.
Not gone,
just watching.
The NPC they never notice
until I speak.

And when I do
it will be truth
they won’t know how to carry.

i met you when my backpack still had keychains on it
when the future was a joke we both laughed at
like we were invincible
or maybe just too young to know we weren’t.

we laughed like nothing could touch us.
shared secrets like we had time.
fought like siblings, loved like fools.
i was unarmed. and you came in smiling.

your love was a glass.
not fragile, but sharp.
transparent enough to make me think
i could see the truth in it.
i held it anyway, stupidly proud.

and you?
you shattered it in my hands.

you made promises like they were toys
then blamed me for the pieces in your palm.
said you had no choice.
said you felt broken too.
said i asked for too much.
when all i asked was for you to stay.

you always put yourself first.
then told me i was selfish
for noticing.

you taught me how to fly,
just so you could cut my wings midair.
i never gave you reasons.
you gave me lists.
like this was a court case
and not my heart on trial.

there were two hopes.
one for us, one for you.
you picked yours,
walked away with your chin high
and my hope bleeding behind you.

and now i laugh, too.
but differently.
with a mouth full of glass.

It’s strange,
how feelings return...
Like stray dogs to a house that once poisoned the bowl.

They don’t bark this time.
They wait.
Polite little ghosts with fur.

I moved.
Changed the curtains.
Changed the skyline.
But somehow, the rot packed itself in my suitcase.

Tell me,
what silence did I forget to bury deep enough?
Which drawer did I leave half-open
that let the dark crawl back in?

Tell me,
on the wings of a thousand paper planes
folded by hope,
crashed by habit.

I’m not running.
Just standing still fast enough to look productive.

The butterflies have returned.
Again.
They tremble beside me like old friends
wearing prettier names.

So stay.
Be one of them.
Be soft. Be fluttering. Be harmless.
Until your wings cut me open again.

Let’s stop pretending we fear the sky.
We were never afraid of falling.
Only of landing
and realizing we never left.

Let’s live, they said.
Let’s try.

And if we fail..
at least...

we did it beautifully.

-Ikkel Y.-

Funny,

how certain moments feel permanent.

Not because they lasted...

but because something inside you never moved on.

You once said we were mirrors.

That no one ever held your shadows so gently.

And maybe that was true

...for a while.

Time has its own language.

It rewrites the edges.

Polishes the memories until they look like closure.

All of those moments that we shared

When did it went wrong

no more tears left

because it does not seems real anymore

You found your light.

You found your calm.

I stayed in the quiet.

Not bitter.

Not broken.

Just… still.

Some flowers bloom once and never again.

Some promises don’t need breaking to fade.

And some names...

you carry like a middle name:

not spoken,

but never removed.

They say the heart forgets in pieces.

I believe them.

But if I loved you wrong,

I hope it still made you feel whole

...for a moment.

As for me?

No, I don’t search anymore.

I just remember

how infinite we almost were.

And I smile.

Because that version of you

was real

to me.

-Ikkel Y.-

When the Sakura touched the earth,

everyone paused.

As if beauty could buy us a moment

long enough to belong.

Can you feel warm

when the cold learns your name?

This year,

the wind didn’t knock.

It came in like it lived here.

I was disappearing in plain sight

under warmth, under words, under routine,

and no one noticed.

I learned to dress for it,

layers on skin,

layers on thought.

Keep moving.

Keep polite.

Keep smiling

until it looks like you're healing.

They said spring comes next.

But winter didn’t get the memo.

It stayed.

Took the chair across from me

and asked if I’d noticed

how quiet the room became.

I said I was fine.

I said I was adjusting.

I said “pass the tea”

because words are safer than truth.

Some warmth is artificial.

Some prayers

are just noise

you tell the silence

to feel less alone.

Bring me more layers.

I’m still cold.

Even when it’s warm,

the wind remembers.

And if spring ever arrives...

really arrives...

I might not be here

to feel it.

Because this time,

I folded myself

so neatly

into the routine

that even I

can’t find the exit.