To love or not to...
Who are you to play with my mind? Who am I, to play with yours?
At least, I don’t mean to play any games. Maybe you don’t mean to play it, too. Maybe it’s our hearts that only know to play, always fearful, always broken at the slightest inconvenience.
This is not simply a love affair. This is a life affair.
I need you. You make me human.
I need you. Otherwise I’m not alive anymore. I lost myself, so I need you in replacement.
I know, I hurt everyone. You know, I’d do anything to unhurt you, even if it wasn’t me who made you hurt. I jut can’t say no to you.
So what do you want from me? You say: Nothing. You say you only want to give. You give yourself without limits. You let yourself be torn into pieces and you think that is love. You may disappear soon enough. Depression swallows you like a black hole.
Moving on
12 june
I'm clinging to people from my past that I left without paying my debts.
I'm clinging to his image. Him. No matter who. They were all just one lover through my eyes. An only image I was searching in anyone.
An obsession, leading to isolation, leading to unfulfillment. An obsession that got me stuck in this contretemps, where I'm stuck between past and present, and no lead to the future.
I'm not real anymore, I'm living no more, I'm just this wreck trying to hide my emptiness because I can't fill it, I lack the courage.
I just lie here waiting for a wonder, but never praying for it, because I lack the guts to face it. I lack the guts to live, so I sit here killing any wonder coming my way. Downing everything in my memories. They were too much, they were too little.
I used to run to get at his level. He told me it's silly- that's not what he needed. I still ran, until I got ahead of him. I ran to exceed my own fears weighting like grudges above me.
Still, I never ran further enough to lose from sight all my unclosed chapters. Or, maybe, I ran too fast for them, and too slow for me.
I'm stuck rejecting them, but I can't find him anymore.
16 june
Life seems like a flood of feelings. Every drop that hits carves your destiny in this world.
They say life is subjective. They say we choose it with our unconscious mind. I say we don't really choose it- not always, and certainly not from the beginning. But we choose how to react to it- how to paint, the colors being our emotions, the brushes- our thoughts. We can get any colors, darker, brighter, it doesn't matter, we can mix the shades anyway. And we get brushes, which we need to define the lines. They can be any size but, the more different brushes we have, the better we can define our painting.
That's what I want to paint today. Just a sketch of the bigger picture.
Thoughts on the shore
It was 6 A.M. and I was watching the sun mirroring its light into the sea. Legend says, the wavy bridge, born from the daylight moving along with the tides, leads the long unforsaken road to the pirate's treasure.
This sea where I drowned parts of my old self. I was loving it with hate, hating it with regret, loving it again, with pity.
Nostalgia.
I've been tailoring a cloth of waves above my eyes. A cloth of wide awake dreaming, a cloth to cover the fear of real life.
Waves, waves.
Swallowing my thousand illusions in their eternal dance. Stealing my mind away....
Long time ago, the sea carried apart from the shore one little girl's soul.
A brave young girl, thinking she was so tough, she was almost invincible. But she wasn't aware she was just a snowflake through so many others, mastering their shape only to fall on the same ground. That was her mistake.
Now, her dreams, fragile like porcelain, are long sank into the deep blue sea before my eyes.
So now, all that remained out of her searches for a new purpose, remastering the philosophy behind the snowflake's tale.
People fall, but through their descending path, they build wings to climb again.
Just like snowflakes, flying with icy wings, colliding in their chaos, until they stop falling to find silence on the ground, to find stillness, to become One.
I believe our world was born out of the sea.
We search with our sight the end of the sea, but it has none, although we do. Although at the end, only the sea awaits. Only the sea remains.
@aliceintheghetto
