Simple Life

When rebuilding isn't working and the world scares you with every step. Life gives you a surprise and shows you again that at the end, there might be something in for you.

At times the depth of the darkness that surrounds the world, through it a blink of a light passes you by. You have two choices, grabbing in it and holding onto it close, so that you may break through, or make your own way out of there .At this point, I chose to do nothing. In my own way, feeling like I don't deserve it yet, needing to grow up more. Be more mature, even my eyes tell me I can go on, I feel there is something missing that I did not learn yet.

Afraid, surprising and new, this three words are not in my dictionary anymore. As nothing can scare me anymore, I felt like I've seen everything. But that doesn't mean I know everything, as everything is possible. Any given thing imagined by mankind can be invented in just a blink of an eye. And from a simple person from the street of your city can become in just minutes billionaires, general mangers with or without universities. And all you need is a bit of wit with some life lessons or maturity. I know it because I was there, above every friend or person that thought they were better than me. But even if you succeed or not, the idea is you can become or be whoever you want.

I've seen maybe too many things, heard too much, been through too much. But that's called life and that's why we live to hear, see, feel and go through it all. You don't have to believe in God, Allah or someone else but yourself to get where you want to be. You have no idea what you are capable of creating. Every dream you have, write it down and make it happen.

Showing the world surrounding you what it means to be you and how you manage it,work it,make it happen. If the world isn't the best of you, set it on fire make it ashes and rebuild it. Make it something new, just for your dreams and fulfillment. As your step burns the cold of hearts of the world, your eyes calm the storm that hits everyone around you. Creating life with your words and building a world with a touch of your hand. Something that should heal everything you had in the past and clear the future.

Even if every plan or dream is crushed by the outside universe that is called the real cruel world. Do not stop dreaming, don't let them kill you inside, destroy you. Crush them with your will, power, words and let them see what you can do. By simply believing in one idea, the one thing you can't touch, attack or see. The one thing that can make people clear your path, the idea of a dream that you will succeed at.

One word at the right time can move the world, one action at the right time can make the whole universe clear your path.

Originally published on 7.11.2012

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Stories

Some stories are to be kept secret, some are to be forgotten, and some are to be kept and lived with forever.

Walking in the shadows of a night through the cold rain. Seeing at every corner everything you desire, the memories begin to come back to life. As the wound you had opens up, it starts to hurt so badly. There is nothing you can do. Raising your head in the rain, you start to open up. You let everything out, every tear, every bit of pain left inside you. Time passes, you start to get forgotten by everyone you ever knew. The path clears up and you are given another chance to be free. Start everything from the ground up.

With no one left by your side. and no one to stay in your way. The journey to a new world began. A place that you never thought was there, brand new people, brand new things to explore. Watching and observing all by myself, this new world that has opened up. With fear and excitement in the eyes, making the first steps to something unknown.

Almost nothing left, no more love, no more passion, no more trust in the unknown. Growing and ageing through the shadows of everyone around me. Looking in the mirror, my eyes, all I see are the closed doors, every mistake, the pain, the loneliness, the the hell that I was given to go through. The depth of the black spreads as the blue disappears.

Every photograph you had, is like a knife in your back, a wound to be reopened. Lost in ideas and dreams of vain, the lost moments that made you grew up, made you wiser. Starting to realize that is better to feel something, rather than nothing. And if life gives you nothing, but the worst there could be for you, then I rather feel pain then nothing at all.

Men, women, human or not, the mirror in everyone's eyes betrays what you pretend to be. The dreams that were crushed by others and taken from you, makes you weaker. If you don't know how to use it for you benefit, that is. The nights depth gets stronger and stronger, with nothing on what once was a black pitch sky with stars and a bright moon. In the end, the worst comes out of everyone.

Your eyes tell the truth, your story is for you to know, as the lesson is to be learned.

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Originally published on 28.10.2012.

Hurricane

I'm calling a hurricane, being in the eye of the storm willing to feel the pain, trying to reach the other side dead or alive.

With everything blown away, to the end of the present, trying to put the puzzle together. Lost in the whole image, just a mess trying to make sense. With the piece lost through space, time and logic. I'm getting more and more aggressive, hurt, willing to sacrifice everything for someone, or myself. I stand on the edge watching over my past, present and future. For one last time, determined to stop making sense of everything. Learning no more, just putting everything in practice. I've practiced enough, waited too long.

It will show, it will pay off or maybe it won't. But as the storm is revolving around me, I can feel the power within me to make it stop. The puzzle is nothing more than your fantasy of past and future, a wall that doesn't let you go beyond. Once everything you tried to make sense of is gone. Nothing more will hold me back. This promise that everything will change is burning. Keep your head down, reading a story with every step looking around you. Take the experience that is in you, start doing something. Doesn't matter what, take your time and you'll find yourself somewhere in the best dream you've ever had.

Everyone has a dream, while the hurricane takes everything from you, just like the past does not reclaim it because it is yours anyway. Past, present and future are just ideas just to make you aware of every mistake. There was and will be, experience that doesn't come with thinking it, but doing it. When nothing, you have nothing to rely on, you still have yourself to make it go. But a battle wakes up in you the choice of missing on feelings, relationships, pain or determination is powerful but with something missing.

Being on the edge makes you think when it is all this gonna stop or when you will finally break? With every minute of being alone, going through all the pain, the hell, this stress with everything. All that's trying to pull you to their sides as nothing remains for you. Falling apart, realizing you started a long time ago to die from the inside out, that look in your eyes that turns the bright blue into the darkest eyes people ever saw. With nothing to dream off, you were slowly dying through the years, the animal you became somewhere in there is a spark that needs to be brought back the life, but until then... The only thing that remains inside you is this black phoenix burning inside. It gives you wings to walk in this world with a look that spears the hearts of people, bringing nightmares to life, burning deep into the soul.

You never knew what you'd become, never knowing if there is a spark in you anymore, feeling useless. But more and more powerful as you die and everything fades into the darkness, feeding it making it stronger. Waiting for the right moment, for the end of the hurricane to burst out and make your way through this dark world to light it up...

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Originally Published: 19/10/2012

Midnight Rain

I stand alone in the midnight rain, smoking a cigarette, looking for hope, for a star, for anything to hold on.

I find myself trapped. On the only road I ever know, lost through smoke, closed minds, ignorance and looking for something. Close to the edge, everywhere I walk. Everywhere I look memories haunt me. It's not that I can't remember everything, it's that I can't forget. There are secrets, everyone has them, times you just can't forget. And it's not about love or a person, it's about you and what changed you. What made you who you are now, your fears, your wrongs and rights. Searching and searching, trying everything to survive, you become a puppet of the ones that observe us, and control us with illusion of freedom between closed walls.

The rain keeps falling, cleaning the earth. Yet we still manage to do it wrong, to make mistakes that continue to chase us down through life. Alone we search for someone, we try by any means necessary to make a change. Find someone to hold onto, or put our faith in. But we disintegrate with every moment we keep doing everything we do. Nothing will pulls of from these depths, but helping ourselves and everything that is around us. Now while we still can, we should change, we should take charge, blame and responsibility. Because we keep ourselves in the same place, no future, no happiness. Only mistakes. But until that day...

The clock turns 1 minute after midnight, the rain stops. As I enter a new day. My cigarette burns out. The sky is still dark, becoming darker with every second that passes. With the blunt cold wind blowing, I see myself in the reflection of a window. I become confused as I forget who I really am, who I was, what I accomplished. As I smiled, seeing my reflection scared of the past, present and future. I do not know what I should do, but one thing is for sure... Breaking the habit may help, Even if it's in believing in the lie I've built. But I won't wait for something, because I was the one that was supposed to save myself. Yet I see myself falling deeper and deeper.

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Originally published on 17.10.2012

Portrait (IV)

The End

Thus everything bleeds.

"When it all ends abruptly."

"Well..."

"What can you do? There's nothing you can really say..."

"Weird, I would say."

"Horror, the way I would describe it."

"Horror?"

"Yeah."

"Really?"

"Yeah... I think that would be it's appropriate designation. It fits really well too."

"But is it?"

"Oh... I mean, probably."

"Why am I discussing this? It makes no sense either way, it's something you have to live with. Something that now is a part of you."

"I don't know, honestly."

"It's not like there's anything wrong with this, you know? It's simply weird. And I... Well... You know?"

"Know what?"

"The limitations bother me, there's something absurd about all of this. Backwards and forwards. It like knowing..."

"Hmm..."

"I don't know..."

"But it would make sense, wouldn't it? Trying to define oneself on what they are, you know?"

"Who am I then? What defines me? It's senseless. It's frustrating."

"You can't define anything, can you? We can barely brush the essence of anything. It's not something we can comprehend. But control..."

"But that wouldn't be a problem. Definitions, essences, the problem is the thought. When you can't control it."

"It is a problem when we can't grasp something, it always was, it always will be. These are the things that make us feel at ease."

"I think..."

"You think?"

"It's really something else, a colorful spectrum of this world, so we don't have to fear it. Do we? We don't."

"I don't know me. No matter the line I'm on, I don't know. It's stressful. It's something..."

"Do you know you? I don't know you... I can't know you. No matter how I look at it, a picture may be a thousand words, but it isn't anything."

"Who knows... I mean who knows me? What is all this? The thoughts, the mess, the entropy, the optimistic pessimism of this. Poetic..."

"This is how it all started, right?"

The End. Now read it from here on up.

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Colors (III)

It bleeds...

Blue, brown and green. One hundred and eight shades of everything. Sky high, but down low. Heart beating and no flow. Basic and simplistic, absolutely fantastic.

Where do you get these ideas?

I wish I knew how it worked.

Where do you get these ideas?

I ask myself that every day.

The unholy cliche of the dreams I've been having, the pallets I've been using, the taint that this is.

But what's the point?

I keep asking this too.

I absolutely hate it. The narrative I've created, the problems that I have, the stupidity I dwell on. I can't stand it. I wish I knew how.

It's confusing...

I know it is.

It's profuse.

I know it isn't. All I'm trying to do is save my skin by pretending I have something to do.

That's sad.

I've been thinking that too. I've been thinking a lot... When the abundance is beautiful, but it's drowning in the shadow of others. I have to ask, who is this for? Red, blue and violet, who goes and riots? I see nothing but gray, letting life live just in my imagination.

It's sad.

And when you can't see yourself, no more. When you know that everything will be gone to dust, sooner or later. It gets sadder.

But then again...

Yes? I'm listening.

Do you know what makes sense? The fact that you can still do it, a brush, a sketch, combined with all that pain, it goes a long way.

A brush, a sketch, combined with all that pain, you die, there's nothing, there's nobody... The long way that it goes, doesn't make sense. When after you're gone, there's no one left to ask you a why or how.

But pink, yellow and a little bit mellow, is what it’s about.

In a way, maybe. But when you have a rainbow, why would you go for something that's far below? While you can create wonders with just white, black, yellow and brown, why just limit yourself to what you have?

You forget the pink, red, and all the shades to come.

Yes, but I am none of them. I am me, and I don't want to be less.

That's pretentious, arrogant and stupid.

Then so be it, when it's all said and done, we're going where there are no shades, no brushes or sketches to be drawn. If I could change it, I would, but it's not that simple.

"What was I doing? I spaced out there... What was I doing?"

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Brush (II)

I draw a line somewhere...

It's weird... Like I did this.

Hmm...

I don't remember when.

Or why, right?

Right...

Like a dream...

No, a nightmare.

Yes, that's it, that's what it was. All this time it was just a nightmare, a thing that I couldn't escape. Yet I forgot about it.

But why?

But why?

I don't understand, I mean, look at me... Why is this, this? Why am I asking these questions?

We all have problems, like that chip on your shoulder. Chip, chip, chip, look at me, I'm a chip. And now what? We're all problems bundled as humanitarian cases... Wild, dumb and dumber...

Who did this offend? Whose problem is it anyway?

Mine?

No? Yes? Yours... Yes, yours... It should be...

Should it be? I have no idea... This is rubbish, when there's nothing to do, nothing to control, nothing to save anything.

Then why am I asking this? What's the point?

Point.

Yet I'm rambling.

What was my point?

A problem, there has to be a problem, an idea, a something.

Gripping. Tight. Suffocating. Thought provoking. Something different. Something magical.

So, can I get some help? I would really appreciate some help. I mean, you can hear it, can't you? That voice.

What does it say?

What does it say? Hmm...

I say...

I said... I mean... There is something wrong.

That's the problem... Isn't it? I get confused easily. If it's not right, it's wrong, it's not for me, it's not for you, and if it's for someone, then is it wrong? I don't get it anymore. Why do I care? Why does anyone care? How do we care? When it doesn't have anything to do with any of us... Yet it impacts us all... It's stupid.

Extremely...

Extreme! That's it... Like everyone's the worst, the best, the Hitler, the savior of the world. It's tiring...

I'm sleepy...

But the nightmares...

Yes, the nightmares...

Which is worse?

Worse?

Between the open eyes or the closed ones...

Worse... Are both, equally... 

Dread... That's the word I was looking for. Looming for...

Artistic, again...

Idiotic, maybe. There is no artistry involved in my...

My? Where was I going with this? I had something to say... Like it was wrong. Like it bothered me when I thought... Think, say, do?

Ha! Do... Wrong, again.

I know...

It's weird...

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Sketch (I)

I draw upon blood...

It was once, I think... Where I was really pleased with what I had become. A rare moment... We all have them, I think... 

But, that's not the point. Because I have a question, why is this happening? 

I have no idea, so if you can enlighten me... Please, do so. If you want context, I can give you that too... You see, I have this pain in my back. It really aches, and I don't know what it says. It's something else. Something like a cross, a burden, memories, regrets or dementia. At this point I'm not sure either. 

As I was saying, there is something that draws me in pins, holds me tight and has me in limbo. Poetic, right? It's this mind thing that keeps bothering me again... 

I have a lapsus, how do you call it? 

Doesn't matter. Talking about poetry, it's something along the lines of a poem. Or a tragedy... Not sure though. 

But back to the thing I was complaining about... 

I don't have an answer. 

When you, yes...

You... 

When you are a nothing, doesn't that make me nothing too? And if you're anything, that means... I'm something too. Right? 

No, that's not how it should work... Right? 

It's weird, I know... 

But, back to my problem... 

If I... 

No... 

That... 

No... 

It won't work... 

That's not how it works...

But isn't it beautiful?

I suppose... Suppose, right?

Hmm... Maybe, if it wants to be. If...

Funny word...

Truly... Like... That mind thing...

Smart? Yeah... Smart...

Funny, indeed... But...

Intelligence...

Yes, yes... Funnier... That is funnier... Intelligence... Aren't I intelligent?

Oh...

Hmm...

What was I talking about? What was I about?

I can't remember...

Oh, my mind thing... Right...

But which was it, again?

The pain... That's how you say it... I think...

Pain... Right... That limbo thing too...

Limbo... Paradox?

Hypocrisy?

Mr. Intelligent over here...

I need an answer...

Maybe that's the answer...

Those maybes...

Can't stand them...

Right... Well, whatever... I need the help...

It was once, I think...

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The Time

You still remember the time you got off and met someone, but all that remained between the both of you are just silent words from an unknown past.

The time you tried to convince her that you could give her more than she could carry, that you were special. She started believing you, but you screwed up by bringing the past back to life, trying to explain what you are. Just ending up in being friends, and as time passes you got your second chance. But didn't take the step that was needed. So now, you go on as a friend. But you still get reminded that she could have been yours.

The person that doesn't have any silver lining, just wrong or right, good or bad, intelligent or stupid, not average, not normal. But that isn't all there is to this curse, telling the truth to every person you know, but lying to yourself is the worst part of this curse, called myself. And even though I know the truth, one thing keeps me back. The fear that was struck into me since I was a child, the fear of failure holds me back. As for the ones I know and knew, I disappointed them too many times. And afraid I still hide in my house for days trying to forget, trying to find myself and go on. But every step I make is on a road back to the past. Waiting for a new way out, time flies away and leaves me into this cold world.

Behind all this, there is a story about time and truth, about being right and being wrong. I've been through a lot, maybe too much. The story I wanted to write is simple. One night I got a call from a person that I remained friends with, we were out for a drink and a chat. We talked for hours, everything disappeared as we got into our own world, debating one thing, love. As we talked, she told me she was never in love and tried to convince me that she will never fall in love. Because in her experience, she only had people who loved her but, not the other way around. I started explaining to her that love is something beautiful, the way you feel that no one can hold you back. The way you smile when you're in love, it's the best drug that there is. She would've given me a chance that night, but I did not take it, because I knew there was something else, and I would get just hurt in the end.

The time passed by, we rarely talked and one day she came by. And I almost made a mistake, it didn't happen but, it could've been a mistake. Because I wouldn't wanted to be right by my own hand, I wanted to let things take their course. And I know after so much time, I read her blog, being happy but, sad at the same time for knowing I was right. She was in love, she got hurt and now she is trying to forget it, through work. It's not the first time, not the last time, but what I was trying to say is everyone has its curse or blessing just like this one.

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Originally published on 12.10.2012

Just another simple day.

Bright mourning.

Who am I? I asked myself many, many times. I am to be them? I asked myself many, many times. Since then, I've been fighting this. I've been fighting the urge to kick the bucket. To give in and be on you them. Those soulless humanoid things... With those empty eyes. I kept fighting it, always will. Otherwise I might be just another hypocrite, another soul this place took. With its dreams smashed, with its ideas shame and mocked by the world. I want something else. Always did. But you can't just do that. You can't avoid it. They won't let you. Whatever it is, you won't be able to do it. And by the end of the day, you are what you got scared of in the first place. At least that's how I see it. That's how I see myself in the mirror lately. Selfish, soulless, hypocritical more times than not. And this is my excuse. I can't just escape it, since they won't let me. Since I can't do it, I blame all you. Is what I would say, if I weren't alone, in this room.

Which is weird, I feel a bit schizophrenic. I've been talking to myself for years. But now I mask it, it's under all this writing I am doing. All these thoughts that I can't put out there and tell people about them. About all this turmoil that I've turned into small stories. But this is my tool, my way of fighting the thing I am afraid of. I can't say that I don't love it. Then again, going back to the schizophrenic episode, it's a lot like talking to yourself and those voices in your head. Because no one will answer my writing or to my thoughts, other than myself. Well, whatever... I don't have to convince myself of the things I already believe in. On the other hand, is good to have a debate with someone, just in case I missed something. Maybe that's how I keep my fire intact for the moment. If this isn't an allusion to masturbation, I don't know what is.

It's weird, not that I complain. I said again to myself, lonely as I sit in a chair. Thinking that all this might be just a coping mechanism. Something to get me through the day. Some lie I've been telling myself all these years trying to survive. Not that I had something to fight against or a reason to fight for something, I spoke again. For some reason, I can't keep my mouth shut, not when I'm alone. Now then, not that this is something wrong, as long as I can control it. Were my thoughts at that moment. And I wasn't wrong, because people don't care unless you take that filter off, put your mask under the strike of your boot and just open your mouth. Not that I encourage everyone to do this, and I never would. Since many do it on social media, and oh boy... Well... See, I thought to myself. I am a hypocrite, I exclaim as I publish this blog post. Then again, it's just another simple day.

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