Struggling

 I've been struggling a bit, confused, between all the chaos and the balance, the light and dark, the good and evil, that I see all around and can't tell what the heck am I doing still alive on this bloody Earth.

The idea of you

 I'm not okay with what I did to you 

And also with what you did to me 

I know we were both suspicious 

Because of our whole life experience 

That never told us otherwise 

For to ever trust without distance 

Is the riskiest gamble one makes

Whenever we're falling in love 

I know now it's something above

And it's worth the fight 

Against the ideas of ourselves 

Preconceived about one another 

Please help me because I cried

So much, my love, I didn't disguise 

It was the part that we said goodbye 

You more, you all the time

So were you at all ever mine? 

Trap

All my life 

Fell into traps

Like a wounded animal 

Always going away

Just to meet another 

In whom I'd trust again 

Open chest heart exposed 

Legs and arms intertwined 

But the mind knows 

It recognises the same movie 

Unravelling step by step 

He said I'm easy

I should've asked 

Easy like Sunday morning? 

As I fallen into another trap

I've always still have been just "tenderness in the void". Camus ain't got nothing on me.

 I cry when you cry, I smile when you smile, it's real love.

The girl who kept the small quiet light

There was once a girl who lived in a small house near the edge of a hill, where the wind would pass gently through the trees at night. From her window, she could see the moon; sometimes thin like a whisper, sometimes full and glowing, like tonight.
She had lived many lives inside one life.
She had loved people who couldn’t stay.
She had given warmth where there was cold.
She had waited at doors that never opened the way she hoped.
And over time, something inside her grew very quiet.
Not broken… just quiet. Like a room after a storm.
One night, much like this one, she couldn’t sleep.
The moon was too bright, her thoughts too loud, her heart too full of things that had nowhere to go.
So she got up, wrapped herself in her coat, and stepped outside.
The air was cool, and the world felt still, like everything was holding its breath.
She walked a little, not far, just enough to feel the ground under her feet. And as she did, she noticed something strange.
There were small lights along the path.
Very faint, almost like reflections, but they didn’t move like reflections. They pulsed softly, like they were alive.
Curious, she knelt down and touched one.
It didn’t burn. It didn’t disappear.
Instead, it warmed her fingers.
A voice, not loud, not distant, just there, whispered gently:
“Those are the lights you thought you lost.”
She looked around, confused.
The voice continued:
“Every time you loved and it wasn’t returned, a light remained.
Every time you stayed when it was hard, a light remained.
Every time you kept going, even when no one saw… a light remained.”
She felt something tighten in her chest.
“But… if they’re still here,” she whispered, “why do I feel so empty?”
The answer came, soft as the wind:
“Because you’ve been looking for your light inside others, instead of seeing how much of it you’ve already kept.”
She sat there for a long time.
Watching the small lights.
There were more than she expected.
Not blinding, not overwhelming—just steady. Quiet. Present. Like her.

“Will I ever find someone who stays?” she asked, almost afraid of the answer.
This time, the silence lingered a bit longer… but it wasn’t cold.
And then:
“When someone learns to recognize their own light,
they stop mistaking shadows for home.”
She didn’t fully understand it. Not yet.
But something in her softened.
Before going back inside, she did something simple.
She didn’t try to gather all the lights.
She didn’t try to solve her whole life.
She just placed her hand over one of them…
and let its warmth stay with her.
That night, when she lay down again, her thoughts didn’t disappear.
The memories were still there. The questions too.
But underneath them, there was something new. A quiet, steady warmth.
Not loud enough to change everything… but enough to rest on.
And outside, the moon kept shining.
Not asking her to be different.
Just lighting the path, little by little.

(so fckng empty now)

No rose-coloured glasses

 Even after all the heartbreak I had so many times over so many people that I trustes all my life, I still kept being naive enough to see people with rose-coloured glasses and attached myself emotionally. That ended these last years, thankfully, finally I have grown out of all that "seeing the good side of people or their potential/essence"; I became more like what Oprah said about "if someone shows you who they are, believe it". Even if it's not all that they are, I don't care anymore, I am traumatized enough to get away instantaneously, thank you very much. 

There's a reason why no one ever felt like home completely to me; it's because they weren't. I never found my home. I never had one truly. I'll never have my own true love with me and that's one of the saddest things ever. Everyone I trusted ended up lying and cheating, betraying and abandoning me. 

 Can't you see you're the love of my life?

"The love of your life is the one who says yes" 

Pure love existed

 Nothing has been worth it in this life. But I did have the bliss of feeling pure love, for a few people and little ones. And though love when far makes the heart ache, I couldn't ever feel it fading completely. It's kind of dangerous to feel that if you are with someone often we might fall in love all over again, with that combination of joy and the remembrance, body that remembers too. 

I would give everything to be yours forever, because this kind of love and passion we only find once, though it can be violent and difficult to get to the admission of it being everything you want and need. I learned with you what love is for real. "You'll have to be the one to leave, because I cannot ever leave you", he said to her and my heart started to shatter and cry. 

One of the saddest things in life is when you can't be with the persons you love.

How do we save meaningfulness now?

 We've turned everything that was important into a banality. 

Maybe I'm also just in this cursed neverending spiral of the eternal return.

Now it might be to late for people to attribute real meaning and restore the importance of all those lost things. Mainly because they lost the ability to feel. 

Everything is just stats and routine. 

PS: don't take a picture. just register in your mind.