Wasting time.

To begin with, 

you didn't want to,

and truthfully I never believed in it either.

 

The cracks in between.

Mendota's ice cracks.
Ever thought that even though these cracks exist, you can still step your foot on them? And apparently the ice layer will hold your weight. All it takes is this bizarre cold - the one that makes your soul to gasp for air because even breathing hurts - for them to get sealed, and somehow stick together. And you see them repair themselves. Healing even. You can still see the mark they left though. All you need is the universe to freeze for that to happen.


You know what's funny?
I am thinking that in order to heal my broken self, I have to get everything to die around and inside me, and then maybe I get to start over.
And love you again.
Or not.

The insignificance of our (sun)days

Dear stranger,

today I feel so small and insignificant.
Like the world is too big for me to find a place to fit in. I get an unbearable feeling of detachment from everything and everyone. Despite the vast opportunities, I still feel incapable of making a step further than where I am standing now.
Do you think it's the fear of the unknown or pure agony of what I am experiencing now? Will it ever end or life is just constant variations of moodiness? Is life really a black and white palette in the end? And if so, is there a favourite tone of grey for everyone? Is this what we wake up in the morning for? Is this what existence should be really look and feel like?
Why do I feel so distant from everything I believed it was the closest thing to pure happiness? Will I ever have my blue back?

I wish you well.

Yours (n)ever,

A.

What I think on a Sunday evening.

I'd wish you'd call me more often,
and care more.
But I'd wish I'd care more too.
Because I don't care as much anymore.

I'd wish you'd come see me,
so I wouldn't always have to be the one arriving and departing.
But that's okay I guess. 
Because I don't care as much anymore.

I'd wish you'd keep your promises
or you wouldn't promise things you knew you didn't want to begin with.
But that's fine I guess.
Because I don't care as much anymore.

I'd wish you'd want the same things as me,
so we can build a home together.
But that's alright I guess.
Because I don't care as much anymore.

But I'd wish I cared more.
And I'd wish you'd understand.
And it's not okay, it's not fine and it's not alright.
But it is what it is,
and you are what you are and,
I am what I am.

And this is how life goes on and on.

This kind of people

You know what's the problem?
This kind of people.

These people who don't give a fuck about anyone but themselves.
Who'll promise you the world and they'll give you nothing.
Who'll make fun of things that are serious.
Who'll tell you all their problems but they won't have time to listen to yours.
Who'll suck you into their emotional roller-coasters without asking if you're up for it.
Who'll give you hope to hang in there and wait for them. Patiently.
And they will make you doubt your own sanity and existence.
They will crush your ego to the ground and you wouldn't even know what hit you.

These are the people you should keep away from yourself.
Take extreme measures if needed, but keep them the fuck away from you.
Because you'll be on the stake. Alone and broken in too many pieces. Once more.

Dear stranger (I wish you well)

Dear stranger,

today I woke up with a feeling of hope which rapidly deteriorated to a feeling of despair.
I came to the realisation that no matter how hard one tries, no matter how deep one's desire goes, to the world all of these are - at least - irrelevant.It is a sunny Sunday - or may I say too sunny for a Sunday in February - and as I have told you before Sundays are a constant psychological battle for me.

I went through my old writings today once more and I came across many different versions of myself, and frankly I wouldn't tell which one I prefer the most. Maybe I am not the best version of me yet?
Lately I feel extremely happy and unbearably sad at the same time. Do you think it's because of the never-ending winter? Or the fact that I have to leave once again? Or maybe it's the other thing?
Do you fear death? Of course you do. Everyone does.

The other day I caught myself in a state of mind that I thought I had surpassed. The state of desperate need of leaving. Escaping even. As if I was trapped in the glass bowl and the air was rapidly sucked out and I had to get out before it was too late. I had a panic attack. After 4 years.

I tend to laugh a lot lately, you know. Out loud. Which can be considered a good thing, right? Then why does it scare me so much? Am I changing? Is this the new version of me? Is it because the last year I came across so many unexpectedly bad changes and I decided that I have to laugh it out or else I will end up sick? Maybe it is all of the above? Shall we tick this box "all of the above" in the answer sheet?

I get weird dreams lately. Both pleasant and not-so-nice-to-remember. Yes, I know. I am stressed. Will it be okay if I just exist for a while? Just the idea of myself floating somewhere in the universe without any trying to prove anything to anyone. Without seeking for air every time I get the news. Without having the feeling of drowning.

Sometimes I wonder what happened to this person who wrote the "notes from a drowning". But I think we both have a very clear idea about it. I wish him well, regardless. And I hope someday he will be back, alive and well.

I think it is time to let you go.
Maybe for a while or maybe forever.
But we'll see each other on the other side, as promised.

I wish you well,

-A

Expect nothing/something

You slept expecting the end of the world and you woke up in a world that was the same as yesterday's; cold, loud, and irrelevant. And you realised that what you have been seeking every morning was nothing but the reassurance of waking up and facing the familiar – whatever that is to you.
Whatever I am to you.