Author Archives: Dilyana Hristova

December 9, 2020

glory and the guilt

By Dilyana Hristova

Whatever we heard happened to people

happened to us.

The years, they take time, and sweat, and hurt.

People are damaged and damaged they love,

there is a difference between pain and amok.

People are damaged and damaged they love.

Some cause more damage,

others tie knots at the end of the rope.

Some love effortlessly

and the damage is no more.

Others bury their heads in the sand

once they’ve reached a shore.

Whatever they heard happened to us

happened indeed.

The growth, it takes blood, and guts, and soul.

People build mountains, walls of their enemies.

The truth is always relative.

Some stay behind the walls,

and let out violent squalls.

Others can see it all from afar.

Oh, the night casts beautiful shadows.

Some lose battles

and some battles are meant to be lost.

Others are ripped apart in half

and gamble with the half of what they are not.

December 2020

Artist unknow. The owner retains all rights to the artwork.

Exits

By Dilyana Hristova

Now I stand

where I once knelt.

And after every misstep I forge anew my shield.

There is so much more to be lived,

yet too much to be left behind.

Been trying to keep an open mind,

but the end of the rope makes one blind.

The night slips on the corner of your eye

and the cold makes you look wise.

But you made me what I am not

and the feel of the bottom I never forgot.

We build walls to create new places

and keep ourselves busy inside these empty spaces.

The truth has always beaten your aces

I’ll never be right where you want me, erase me.

December 2019

by Aykut Aydoğdu

Many things have ended for me, I’m done. Things like fighting for what is right or trying to fight and win over my demons. Things like speaking in the correct tense and trying to find some sense. Many things have ended for me in the cold evenings and had begun again in the even colder mornings. Seasons have changed and I am below the lowest I had ever gotten. It ain’t right. I’ve held my head high and I’ve been down in the dirt, in the mud. My moods have varied so much that I have destroyed relations with people. I’ve written so many words that I can’t remember them all. I’ve read so many words yet the white paper is the most sincere thing that exists. I’ve heard so many words that I’ve stopped listening. I’ve cared so much that I’ve ruined my inner self. I’ve blamed so much that I am to blame. I’ve seen so little of the world yet it feels like too much. I’ve tasted the madness now I want the touch

of gold.

October 18, 2016

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Stimuli

By Dilyana Hristova

The only currency that people actually possess is time. Time, in the sense of our own, personal time we have to spend on the Planet. So it becomes of crucial importance whom and what do we spend our time on.

There is no refund for the time spent. There is no contract offered to loan more time in case ours becomes limited. And there is no guarantee that we won’t run out of time at any given point in our lives.

So, don’t tell me the time I spent on you and you spent on me has no value. It’s like investing all your money in building a house and then leaving it empty, leaving it to time to rot and destroy. It’s not even like renting it or leaving it to the homeless people to live in. It’s like absolutely wasting it, locking it, nailing the windows with wood and leaving it to decay.

The question of time always evokes questions about waste. So there are at least two stimuli in a person’s life – making good choices about time and avoid time waste. All else is a subject to negotiation. But time never is.

Source – Pinterest. Artist unknown. The owner retains all rights to the artwork.

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August 2, 2018

A way to be

By Dilyana Hristova

The morning light was yet demanding. There was a taste
in my mouth of something long gone. I did not know how
the story was supposed to go from now on, but the
morning light was demanding action. I really wanted to
refuse the world in those empty mornings but that was not
a way to be.
What amazed me was that nothing really mattered
anymore – failure or success, not even love. It had become
almost shameful to still be capable to love and fall in love in
those ugly days.
There is terrible ugliness in the world, but there is also
sublime beauty. Bottom line is, at least the world is
knowable. Sooner or later, closer to the hearth or at the end
of the earth, the world gets to everyone.

Oct 2017

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June 25, 2017

On Truth

By Dilyana Hristova

It is like an arena theatre – where everyone can see everything from all sides. We just close our eyes to what others have in mind. It’s easier. And we put it all on the side, for later. Like the leftovers of your dinner that you ask the waiter to pack you for home. And then you go home, and put it in the fridge, and forget that it’s there because you are eating in a different restaurant the next day. And you find the leftovers months later, when they are already rotten, and you throw them in the bin, because you are disgusted by the look and smell. That is the truth. That’s what we do to the truth. And even if you are not doing so, it wouldn’t matter. Even if you take the truth and hug it, and kiss it goodnight every night, it wouldn’t matter. It would kill you. It would take out its little dagger and scratch pieces out of your face every night when you are asleep until one day you wake up and you just don’t look the same anymore. Because you’ve accepted too much.

July 2016

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January 16, 2017

We have an expiration date.

By Dilyana Hristova

I’ve had the urge of the young writer to write about everything that had happened to me, instead of to write about what matters. I’ve been writing things to people, about people, for people, giving it to people to read, dedicating writings to people, posting it on social media without even realizing my own preaching – that words are not free. They cling to people, to hearts, to minds. I believed that was the only way to be true to oneself and to the world. But it is not. To be true means to find the truth in everything and say it, write it, shout it, if you will. Everything else is bragging about your own personal drama, which is not interesting anyways because everybody has got their own.

One might say that I am a lost little girl who does not know what she wants and probably will never know. To those I have nothing to say.

But one may also acquit me of my guilt and say that I am just trying to find out what the hell am I and what the hell have I, so I don’t rot before my actual expiration date. That I have actually grown up, of course with help from other s. To that person, or if I am lucky enough, those people, I owe much of what I have become and will become. All I can say is a mere thank you and give my love.

Yes, I believe we have an expiration date. It is all about how much from the world you can take. Some people die young and continue to live as empty bodies. Others die young but continue stronger than ever, however, with a changed form. But we do expire. The good thing is that we can do something about it afterwards. But nobody can do it for us; everybody has their own battle to fight. And this fight goes until the real expiration date comes – the expiration date of the body in which you live in, the one that you cannot escape.

These are the first few meaningful sentences that I have written in months and they sound like a damned confession of somebody who has been away for too long. I am too young to have been away for too long. And I am too young to know anything whatsoever. I can only guess what it all means; and guessing has always been fun. It’s almost like gambling with life and not knowing if you’ll get the poor hand or not.

January 15, 2017

right where

By Dilyana Hristova

In any case, for me being published means being in excruciating pain and saying it out loud. Тhat is a form of bravery in my world. It was never about the possible popularity or the attention of my acquaintances, or the questions everyone would start to ask. It was about being able to communicate all the things that had happened, all the things that I am.

August 2015

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August 4, 2015

Poetry collection

By Dilyana Hristova

So, my first poetry collection is coming to life. This is for all the sufferings and calamities of personality that I have seen for my 20 years on our beloved Planet Earth.

It is available to purchase from Janus Publishing website, I attach the link below. I also want to thank endlessly Janus for the patience and help.

The collection will appear on amazon on the 24th of August 2015.

If you find my words compelling, let your attention stay fit. I am preparing a second collection in those unfair times of ours.