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.

You walk beside me.

No footsteps.

No sound.

But I see your shape

in every choice I make.

Even when I run...

especially when I run,

you match my pace

like you’ve always known

where I’ll land.

I closed my eyes once,

and imagined the crows.

How they wait.

How they hunger.

But when I opened them,

you were still there.

Quiet.

Patient.

The most familiar view I’ve ever known.

They say fog eventually lifts.

That clarity returns.

But even when I can’t see you,

I know.

You don’t leave.

You don’t have to.

You live here now.

As long as this curse lingers,

let me feel your hand.

Even if it burns.

Even if it breaks me.

Let me know I’m still something

you reach for.

Even if no one else does.

-Ikkel Yoo-

There was a cake.

Lifted gently,

as if its sweetness could delay the truth.

Placed above the table untouched, divided,

agreed upon.

The candles stood like quiet warnings.

One flame per year, per memory,

per version of me I no longer recognize.

They burned politely,

counting down to reality.

The cream was soft.

Expected.

The chocolate: bitter enough to remind me

that sweetness is not the same as satisfaction.

Eat it with me,

and maybe it won’t feel so final.

It fell.

Of course it did.

They always do,

don’t they?

The stains came quick,

familiar.

Wipe it. Harder.

Pretend it was never served.

And now it’s gone.

All of it.

No crumbs. No story.

Just a silence in my stomach

that everyone calls “full.”

Let me sit here.

Let me say I’m okay.

Let me make this

look beautiful.

-Ikkel Y.-

It began with a secret,

and a lie that fit too well.

We never met,

but you stayed in the shape of my silence.

Always beside me.

Never within reach.

Fate didn’t want us.

It carved detours instead of answers.

And every path we walked

felt like an apology

without a mouth.

You rested in my arms

in the life I couldn’t name.

But I kept them soft,

so the chain would never hold.

So you'd know

you could leave.

And I wouldn’t ask you not to.

Let me be the one

who sees you cry

in the version of us

that never got written.

Let me wipe tears

you never shed,

for a love

we never spoke.

They made us strangers.

But strangers still ache.

Strangers still remember

what was almost true.

Why did we need to meet

if memory came without it?

It began with a secret.

And a lie.

We never met.

But I still carry you,

like a fact I never got to prove.

-Ikkel Y.-

I walked through the river

with no regrets to spare.

It welcomed me not as victim,

but as something it already knew.

Not to disappear,

but to see if silence

would feel like peace

this time.

I could drown here.

And I do.

But my lungs have learned the language

of quiet suffocation.

They say I pulled them in.

That my current

was too much.

Too persuasive.

Too me.

But no one saw the way

I kept sinking

just to make them float.

My body was temporary.

So was my kindness.

My mind cracked

in soft lines no one noticed.

It wasn’t a breakdown.

Just erosion.

They speak of betrayal

like it’s a future event.

But I’ve felt it

in every apology

that arrived too late.

And still,

they say I’m the influence.

The one who ruins.

The one who knows too much.

Fine.

Let them name me villain

if it helps them sleep.

I walked into the river.

Not with regret,

just resignation.

It’s easier to drown

when you stop pretending

you want to breathe.

Because the truth?

Once the water claims you,

you don’t rise.

You just stop needing air

the way others do.

- Ikkel Y. - 

You were sky,

the kind that holds water

without letting it fall.

You could’ve cried.

You didn’t.

You held the weight

like mercy disguised as silence.

You told lies

with good intentions.

And they cracked you open

in places no one saw.

Softness,

it seems,

is the most dangerous thing

to carry.

You were always light.

Even when you pulled the curtains closed

and let the dark tuck you in

like a secret.

You called it safety.

I called it surrender.

If only they knew,

darkness is not absence.

It’s light, turned inward.

And some hearts only survive

by glowing where no one looks.

Don’t be alone.

It wrecks me.

Even from here.

Even like this.

If your joy means

watching you from the edge of the frame,

then I’ll watch.

Quietly. Always.

Don’t look back.

I ruin what I reach for.

And I won’t let that happen to you

again.

Build the walls.

Close the gate.

Etch me out of the picture

if it means you can breathe again.

I’ll carry the version of us

that doesn’t hurt.

There was a teddy bear in the shop window.
Not rare. Not extravagant. Just there.
Warmed by the way others looked at it,
like proximity made it more lovable.

I stood outside and rehearsed logic. Like I always do.
Look, don’t touch.
Want, but don’t reach.

It made sense.
Until it didn’t.

Because when I came back,
the shelf had straightened itself.
You were gone in a way that didn’t even hurt.
Just… corrected.

And I...

I would have held you. Not because you were perfect.
But because wanting you
was the first thing I couldn’t solve.

I'm still learning to rewrite the formula:
“I don’t deserve” might mean
I was too afraid to choose you while you were still real.

Once broken, I tried to mend them.
Carried them into new rooms,
set them down where the light was kinder,
and dressed them in small ornaments.

as though beauty might hide the cracks.

But pieces remain pieces.
They never return to their first shape.
If you look too long, the seams betray themselves.

Still, they are something.
Not nothing.

I used to wish people were the same.
Whole again, once repaired.
But imperfections are louder than silence.

They dull the surface.
They drown the hidden perfections.

So I keep them away.

Hidden in corners, where ordinary eyes will not reach.
Kept for the rare passerby who does not mistake flaw for failure.

Who sees not the fracture,
but the pattern it creates.

Perhaps one day,
someone will arrive
and notice,

that perfection was never lost.
Only rearranged.

You gave me a world,

and I moved in.

You handed me rainbows,

as if color could promise forever.

Time flew.

The living obligation beside me

ground it down.

The rainbows don’t come anymore.

Your world dimmed.

I sat inside your presence like a locked room.

You built another world,

I understood it wasn’t mine.

Everything looked bright from far away.

Up close, my sky went dark.

There were doors, yes,

but none that opened for me.

I can’t move.

The light has turned to weight.

I keep imagining the ending,

and it keeps imagining me.

Time flew.

The living obligation beside me

ground it down.

The rainbows don’t come anymore.

Your world withered.

Nothing returned to me.

I think about standing,

but I can’t feel my legs.