I'd rather be unknown than being a famous assh*le!

I've got more questions than Google could ever answer me.

Unplaced

I can't go back no more
my mind or soul don't fit the door
and the key to the lock is lost
all around I see just moss

The mellow days are over
as there is no more horizon
or sun or waves in the sky

Oh my, oh my,
what has happened to the mizen?
we're not sailing moreover
just going adrift in the seas of thought

A forsaken existence in no altar
since I was born into this world
I've always  felt unplaced and whirled
though my courage didn't falter

There's no place for someone like me
utterly dead and infused with adrenaline
there's no place for so much contradiction
there's no posture or position.

I've always felt the darkness

Most of the days I feel like dying. It has been like this since I was very young still at elementary school and she used to hit me for no reason, calling me names, saying what seemed to me the most awful and uncompreensible things.

How can someone put us in this world and treat us so badly? Deprive me from my happiness, my peace, my nourishment, my whole health and then act for my brothers and father as she was the victim and I a bad person and a bad daughter. When I was little I could only think of what could I possible have done to deserve this.

Many times, killing myself seemed the only way to put an end to so much pain and make everyone else happier. I know what a cliché this all is, but that fact doesn't make it less serious and problematic. I could never find a way to get out and get rid of all this. Adding the physical health problems and consequential financial problem I've still, in these three decades, haven't been able to free myself either way.

And I feel pity for what my situation became and ashamed for it all. And I still want an escape, though I never took the easiest escapes that crossed my path.

I've heard about horse whisperers, what about people whisperers? 
They're the most needed!

People don't know the feeling of longing anymore.

Everyone's got cellphones, and became ubiquitous in another attempt to play god.

Along with the loss of this ability we've blinded all our different views of the world at its utmost beauty: its textures, its lights, its veins, its blood and the tears it sheds when, at the same time, the colors divide and irrupting from the ground to the sky they, once more, draw a path for wonder.

Do you prefer being loved
or to love someone?
Both seem to me selfish unlike one would suppose about love.

And then there's the best of paradises: to love & to be loved at the same time.

Wouldn't it be nice if we could all taste it, the joy of love?

Look at me. What do you see?
Do you see someone who had lived,
someone who has enjoyed herself, someone who has all she needs?

What do you see? And even furthermore, inside me?

Loss

It seems that life is nothing but a course on detachment
til the ultimate detachment: the spirit from the body.

And the worst thing is to remain in doubt
of whether we've lived all we could
we said all we wanted
we loved all it was offered.

I look at the trees branches waving
dotted with fingerprints leaves
and there I see the whole life:
the birth, the living, the dying.

And even knowing it's going to happen
I can't help but thinking: why?

There comes a time in life when you gotta ask yourself:

- Am I living?
- Am I worth living?
- Is living worth it?

“We are perishing for want of wonder, not for want of wonders.”

G.K. Chesterton