What We Want, When We Want It

It’s hard being what we preach to other people.

The helping words. The soothing words. The solutions to problems. The answer that harbour inside as if we got all in control ourselves.

What we want, when We want it.

Sometimes we say the right things, we attempt to heal others hoping somehow by doing that, we heal ourselves. Little by little..

We take pleasure in listening.

Feeding ourselves with the stories, calculating things to say, our next moves carefully not to make mistakes,

As if just by doing that, we’d not be destroyed. At the centre. The rest just collateral damage.
But again I find no other strength. Than not giving up on oneself, doing whatever it takes to heal, to grow,

Making way for being what we want, exactly when we want it.

Too Tired, Too Tired

It’s world suicide prevention day and I wish I could be like those with the gemmy words for the world. Reminding people how important they are, how worthy and how needed.

But no. I think I’ll go on a bit differently.

To the rest of us. To every one of us who have either better ways to handle our burdens or just ‘not there yet’.

How many people around you are battling depressing and low self esteeme, how many people around you feel unwanted and disgusted by their bodies or simply too tired of everything. How many think that disappearing is the only way out.

How many..

Any you know?

If you’ve taken a long time to answer this question then maybe it’s your fault as much as it is theirs if they choose to give up or decide that one more sunshine, one more night under the stars is just not worth it anymore.

The world is constantly being filled with narcissists, the number of selfish people increases day by day and there are things we neglect, people we neglect.

We walk past individuals with just the widest smiles but the saddest souls and most crushed spirits inside.

And we never think twice before we’re on and about our business, there’s never anything we can do.

But in truth, sometimes a little hello can treat a million wounds.

When it’s your family that’s a constant thief of your joy, ‘you’re beautiful’ from a stranger can fix a million wrongs.

When it’s your so called ‘friends’ making you feel worthless then a hug from a mother can wipe away the tears.


Could we take others as we take ourselves, could we respond to the raised flags and silent cries, maybe suicide would just be a terrible myth.

Could we restrain from certain things we say to people, could we just be more gentle ..
We say it’s all in the state of mind, we say we all have to work it out within ourselves, but I say, there’s something that the rest of us can do too.

For the others. For us.

There’s amazingly enough love inside every person for every person.

It will never hurt being nice.

0246 AM

​I hated him,

There was a time when I felt I could only love him and just him before he made it clear I was far from what he wanted.

There was a time I felt I could never think I’d live one more day if we ever went apart,

before we did and the next 3 months passed just fine.

I hated him because I was wrong,

I hated him because he was right.

The woman who walked in after I left slamming the door behind me was perfect,

She was what he needed,

And I hated him for that.

I hated the songs that were labeled our favourites,

I hated strangers at bars who ordered his preferred drink,

I hated everyone, because I hated him.

And there was a time I forgave him,

There was a time I forgave myself for clinging so long where I was unwelcome,

And I hated him for that.

Because forgiveness didn’t seem like what any of us deserved at the moment,

And I hated him for that.

And I still do.

And I always will.

And I know hate is so big of an emotion that you really need to love someone very much to gather the energy for that feeling towards them,

Well,

Maybe my heart is still drunk.

Catching a moving train

Sometimes everything feels like you’re catching up on a moving train. One that’s running too fast, faster than how your legs can take you.
You spend hours and hours before a desk piled up with papers and pens and files only to realise, you haven’t really done what you’ve always wanted to do with your life.

Or you’re on a stage, or behind the wheels, and everything is just the same.
Everything is moving,

Friends are getting married,

More friends traveling to every city in their bucket lists, others getting into meaningful relationships,

More nailing carrer goals and you are just there;

Standing in the shadow of other people’s success;

And you want to get up and change a few circumstances around you, bet on yourself and your progress but you’re either too lazy or you just don’t believe you can do any of it.

And time goes on. The train moves.

You’re afraid of coming out and prove to yourself of your abilities,

and time goes on, the train moves.
Someday it will be all too late.

But we don’t know anything

​’Enough already.

whatever you say I will be.

You must know better than me.’

– The path to wise counsel, Forty and Everything after

We’ve come to an era where mirrors no longer have ideas of who we are,

We do not know who we are.

The voices in our heads have no clue, our minds have forgotten.

Nothing says what we should be than everybody else.

Everybody else dictating how we should walk, talk, dress and appear.

Everybody else sticking opinions and views as post-its on our foreheads. 

Everybody else knowing better. They know better.
We’ve come to an era where it’s wrong to be us,

To help our wings fly on with their glory,

The ground better than what the sky could give us.
And it’s sad that if any of this is changing, then it’s all becoming worse.
We’re being stripped off of our identities,

and we don’t know anything,

We can’t possibly know anything,

Everybody else got it right than we ever could.

Matters of the Heart

I’m holding a sword where it hurts. I can feel my palms tearing at the middle sending pain impulses to my brain.

But I don’t let go.

I cannot let go.

The sight of blood terrifies me as the knowledge that I have to hold on. One more minute. Just a little bit longer.

Then there will be a break time where I get to bandage up my hands. Where I will give my wounds a chance to heal, but then before a scar fully forms,

There it is again. The sword. My favourite toy.

But I don’t let go.

I cannot let go.