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.

The dead tree blues

Once upon a time, there was a tree. It was tall, and green and alive. And then the years passed and the world changed and the tree died. And what was left of it, was its carcass, floating in the river, creating a pleasant stop for the birds. 

I'm just saying...

The social norm has forced its members throughout the years to behave in a certain way that consequently has urged them to follow a certain adaptation path which is called deliberate hypocrisy.
In order not be considered a wacko one should sharpen daily one's ability to behave as expected; be friendly regardless the circumstances, have friends, make compliments about one's appearance, show affection, care and empathy to others and the list can go on and on, but at the same time one is bound to be blunt, racist, self-centered and narcissistic.
The point is, even if one doesn't consciously or even subconsciously believe that one should act in this "proper" way, one will have to readjust in order to be socially acceptable.
Because a society that cares progressively more about pushing people to the edge, or humiliate people to a despicable extent, so the former can post on social media a viral video, is a society which with equal progressiveness rots. But within this rotten society, it can be manifested that there are numerous of uprising leaders. And what can be easily extracted as an outcome is that, regardless of the initial state of mind one had before entering this "socially appropriate circle", by one's exposure to the unfiltered, poisonous to the mind and never-ending cheering for more jungle, one's mind will eventually readjust, reconsider and surrender to this zoo.
When something is considered socially unacceptable, for instance being racist, but a person starts making fun of a specific race and this person receives positive comments about the joke, then it is more probable the jokes will continue, the clapping hands will increase and eventually the racist jokes will become a "norm" and not too long after, the race segregation will be considered common sense like the prohibition of smoking next to an oxygen gas cylinder.
But behind this socially acceptable or this social norma, hides a society that is more educated, more liberated, more equal (?), and it should have been expected that the people within this society are ought to become better, take the world a step forward, rather than creating and expanding a society that wants people to behave "properly" but at the same time tolerates racism, hypocrisy, backstabbing and promotes and favours its members according to who is the biggest misanthrope.

But in the end, who am I to have an opinion, right?

The fundamental state of action in order to maintain a favourable equilibrium between human interactions; hypocrisy, or better known as diplomacy.
Don't forget to apply daily. 

Promises made and kept

We promised each other we'll see the world together.

And here we were, standing, at the end of it, having seen everything and nothing at all.

It was cold and dark.
The time made us fade away like distant stars in the sky.
But we were still holding each other's hand.

Together until the very end. 

Morgen

At some point, we should pick a date and decide it will be "The International Day of the Shithead".
It will be more popular than Christmas.

You on the run

It's not yourself you're running from.
It's your inability of dealing with your shit and pulling yourself together which makes you run like a sprinter.
But, darling, did you forget that life is a marathon?

Meta-universe

In every possible universe, we (would) have met each other and fell in love.

Yours (n)ever,
A–

Glue for the soul

You thought you broke me but you forgot I was already damaged.
And then you bought this glue for the soul and tried to fix me.
But you cannot glue back together the soul. But you tried anyway.
And when you failed, you understood that you weren't meant to be my soul repairer.
And one morning you decided that you've had enough so you decided to leave me.
The days passed, and I didn't hear from you.
I remained broken and my pieces were scattered.
Random people took a broken piece of me and kept it for themselves.
Not thinking that one day you might try to glue me back together again.
And when you came back for me, all that remained was the imprint of my broken soul on a dusty table.

(in)significance

In this vast universe that everyone think they are special, you need to understand that you are insignificant.
Until the moment that you see yourself through the eyes of the ones who love you.
Then, you become their significant other.

The black hole

We kept dreaming about death and in the end we became death.
Why couldn't have we dreamt about life instead?

Defeated

The rain kept coming down from the black sky and all the lies were washed away.

And what was left was the bare truth. A truth that neither of us was ready to face. 

A truth that killed everything that we ever believed in, hoped for and hide from.

We were done. And that was the moment to admit it.

We were dead inside and there was no salvation.

So we decided to return to our graves, where we belonged in the first place.

We buried ourselves fifteen feet underground.

And the outside met the inside. 

And we weren't hurting anymore.

Death had won the battle.

We were defeated.

The killing moon

-What do you do when you feel like the world is spinning a bit too fast for you to handle? 

-This is what I do. Because I need to believe that tomorrow will be a better day.

No diggity

I hope one day you'll wake up and realise that you are a worthy person and you deserve to be loved, feel safe and forget about your insecurities.
I hope one day you'll believe me when I say that I don't care whether there are a thousand other people to care about and probably are better than you.
And I hope one day you'll understand that you make me a better person.

The lesser person

"I can deal with it", she said. The room was covered with darkness and he couldn't have possibly seen the disappointment in her face. It wasn't the rejection that was scratching her mind and making her to keep rolling around the bed that night. It was the fact that she never had the chance to actually choose for herself whether she wanted "this". And now, after 5 years almost, it was the very first time that for "this" someone was turning her down. Or so it felt. "This is why I am telling you that you can find a thousand people better than me", he said. She didn't reply. What could anyone reply to this? She wanted to tell him that there will always be an uncountable number of constellations in the sky, but Orion was her favourite. Would he understand? Nobody knows.
The morning after, he prepared for her coffee, as he used to do, with his fucked up from orzo coffee moka.
And the world kept spinning.
And she wasn't a lesser person.