• Coming back to myself.


    I forgot who I am. I forgot about the existence of my real self. I was swallowed into a sea of external existence, giving myself into what other walking creatures demanded. I tried to comply, to fit into a hole that wasn’t shaped for me, so I obviously broke. I lost some pieces in the process, the most important ones, but somehow I didn’t even notice. How?

    I was distracted by the soft silk in their voices and all the shiny sparks on their skin. I was taken from my own space, but I am to blame, and no one else. I think I wanted another self, not realizing how necessary my true being was. And I was on the right track, until I got lost into the forest of a foreign heartbeat.

    I forgot about my strenght, I forgot about the light I carry within me. I forgot my own words, my own points of view, all of my lessons. I put it all On hold, pretending it was part of the process… And somehow it was.

    We think we understand some things, until we realise… We didn’t understand shit. I thought I had been lost before, and therefore I could relate to the “I finally found myself” feeling. But no, I didn’t know what this “self” actually was, so I didn’t know what I was supposed to find. I wasn’t sure at all. I was just wandering around, not knowing where I came from, or where to go next, hence the feeling lost.

    I was never really lost, so I never actually found myself. I was becoming myself. But like a fish in the water, I didn’t even realise what I was swiming in.

    I think, now I understand it better. I think, I did lose myself this time. I had me, and then I didn’t have me anymore, I don’t really know who took over. But I would like to change my point of view on this right now.

    Maybe I wasn’t actually lost from my path, I just took a detour. I took the longest road.

    But now I need to come back home. And coming back home doesn’t mean turning around. It means finding the path again, so I can step on firm ground. This time knowing better what all of this inside of me means. What is the purpose of it. How to use it, and how to keep it, how to take care of it and nourish it.

    Yes. I need to come back home. I need to come back to myself.


     

    Picture from pixabay

     

  • A letter from the future: Stay you.


    My self from the future, 20 years from now, has sent me a letter:

    It’s been years now.

    When I look back I can’t believe the person I was back then. Who was she? And how did I become into this? What happened?

    I think I slowly started to fade, and I disappeared in the back of my head, as I let a strange ghost take over everything I thought I was. It was easier. I didn’t have to fight so much that way. The world shaped me even when I didn’t want it to.

    Except it didn’t actually shape me. It deformed me. It killed me so very slowly, drowning all my dreams, asphyxiating my innocence, my will to love, to live, to learn… Until all was left of me was an empty shell, a robot of some sort, a zombie.

    At first I fought against it. I fought against all currents, against the gravity that tried to pull me into becoming what I feared the most. I dedicated to educate myself so I wouldn’t become one of them. I tried to be “strong”. I tried to remain soft, kind, loving. I tried to dissolve the feelings and emotions in my nature that wanted me to destroy. Myself. And everything else. Stay soft. Stay kind. Stay loving. I tried. 

    But at one point, I couldn’t hold it anymore. I started to wish it was all different. I started to wish I was like them. Empty. But probably better. Maybe they were right, and I was the weak one. Yes, I should be less like this, and more like that. I don’t know exactly when it happened, or if something specific happened that shifted something in me and turned my switch off.

    Is it better now? I don’t think so. Most days I feel dead inside. Just like the rest of them. The worst  part? Most days I don’t even care. I can’t feel shit. I can’t believe I wished for this to happen. But I don’t think I care enough to make it change right now. Maybe today I care a bit more than usual and that’s why I’m writing this.

    Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t do this to us.


    I close the letter I found underneath my pillow a few minutes ago. It does sound like me.

    I have been feeling odd lately. It’s been tough. Trying to remain myself. Trying not to get burned by all this fire. Trying to remain untouched by all the dirt they throw. It’s so difficult. Like some days I forget who I am. And I mean the real me. Not the crazy impulses and emotions that confuse me too. The one that lives in my heart rather than my mind, that’s my real self.

    She’s so scared. It feels like the world needs to destroy her. There’s no place for someone like her right here. But I still try to maintain the flame of this spirit burning bright, against all odds. Even in the worst days, even when I feel like all is lost, something remains quite in the back, staring and listening. All I can do is stay still, but it’s enough to keep the spark alive. I don’t want to be taken down.

    I don’t want to be alive but dead inside. I refuse to let it kill me. I refuse to die just because I feel too much. I refuse to be called weak just because I am so damn alive. I will stay soft… and kind… and loving.

    I refuse to hide my heart.

    Picture from pixabay

  • The river will flow.


    I am a river. You will never encounter me twice. You will never see this again. I am never the same when I look at the mirror, probably because I don’t do it often. I am never the same when I look deep inside my head, I am always discovering new corners, new rooms… New scars. It’s hard to notice because I am with myself all the time (how annoying), but change happens way to often. It’s too quick for me to follow.

    I am a current, and I have no choice. Everything spins so fast, and I can’t stop.

    I flow up and down, sometimes against the wind, sometimes against gravity. Sometimes against my own will.

    Some days I go dry, like thirsty empty veins, waiting for another heartbeat.

    Some days I don’t know myself. I can’t recognize this person. This mind, this body. I don’t understand the words that I speak, or the words that I hear. And I stay quiet, like stagnant waters… If I don’t move, I am sure it will pass… It will pass. My streams will flow again.

    It will pass.

    Some days I am light. I can see clearly, my eyes wide open, colors sharp, I can see all edges and shapes of a somehow easy reality… But some days I am dark. I see nothing but cliffs and empty spaces, too many painful questions and no solutions. I am attracted to sharp objects, and my skin longs and screams for things that I don’t want to understand.

    It will pass.

    Sometimes I go mad.

    Sometimes I realize.

    It scares me to think that sometimes I don’t.

    Sometimes I can’t do anything about it. I just stop and stare. Until it passes.

    I(t) will pass.

    It took me years to understand that it would probably always be like this. The river will always flow until it goes dry. But it will be a river again, soon enough. (And it will dry once more.)


    River from pixabay

  • Love tainted with humanity.


    If you are awake enough, you know how it should be. But just because you know it doesn’t mean it’s easy.

    No one teaches us anything about love. No one teaches us how to love ourselves, for starters. No one teaches us anything about human relationships. We think it’s implicit, because it just happens. But we know nothing. We make mistakes after mistakes, doing the best we can with what we have, and with what we think we know. But how many of us take the time to learn anything about loving right?

    We don’t want this. We don’t want pain, we don’t want to suffer, we don’t want to hurt. And yet…

    When I was a kid, I didn’t believe in God, but I believed in some kind of heaven. My cute explanation for this was very simple: My love couldn’t just die and disappear. It was so big for me, so intense, I couldn’t even imagine how it could vanish when my body perished, because it had nothing to do with my body. It was a separate entity that took over everything I was. It had nothing to do with me, I could just stand there and feel it. The same way I could feel the heat of the sun on my skin, or the wind blowing over my face, love just flowed into my heart. So love would remain, even if I didn’t.

    This thought shaped me into who I am today. But back then, even if I didn’t love right, my love was purer, cleaner, innocent. As I grew up I felt like the world started to pollute it. I promised myself I wouldn’t let the world destroy this part of me, but as time passed, this task became more and more difficult. I could feel it happen very slowly. I looked around and everyone was so shattered and broken, to a point where they wouldn’t believe in love anymore.

    14 y/o me left messages for future me all around. I would write little notes and hide them where I knew I would find them later. They all said “Believe in love, it exists.” Young me was way wiser than present me. She’s still teaching me lessons no one else can, and reminding me things I forgot, thing I lost in the fire of growing up and getting hurt.

    Now, my love is tainted of humanity. It comes with many things that should not be there. Things I collected from the world without noticing, without ever wanting to. It comes with jealousy, fear, selfishness, pain, attachment, and more things that shouldn’t belong here, things that I don’t want and I don’t need. Everyday I try to clean the mess, but it’s not easy.

    Now that I know better, I know how it should be. Free.

    Instead, it’s got spots all over. Up until a point where I didn’t think it was love anymore, but a very human thing in it’s place, something that would die with me. It took me some time to understand that just because something isn’t perfect, it’s less real.

    Love is still there. Hiding underneath the mess. Scared. But untouched. It’s not less love just because of my humanity, and this weird program embedded into our brain that many confuse with actual love.

    Our job is to undress it from all the layers of dirt it has from society, we have to polish it and nurture it. We have to study ourselves and learn what is part of it and what isn’t.

    But please, don’t forget it’s still there. Don’t let the world and it’s ways tell you otherwise. Don’t let pain confuse you. Don’t let society fool you and tell you how love should look like. Learn yourself, study, don’t forget no one has ever taught you anything about it, and you just know what you’ve seen.

    I still believe the whole purpose of our existence is to learn how to love again. I’m not talking only about romantic love. Love is everywhere. The whole universe is put together thanks to it. There’s no greater love than the one of atoms that hold each other to create matter. Even the spaces that look empty, they’re still there holding on to dear existence, drawing everything together even when it looks far away.

    Love travels faster than light, because it’s just always there. And it will be there even after you are gone, after everything is gone, love will be the only thing that remains.


    Heart from pixabay

  • Human fragility: We are always dying.

    Have you ever been perfectly healthy and stopped for a minute to appreciate that moment? And maybe thank the universe or whatever for such an amazing feeling. You maybe aren’t feeling something specially great, but also you are not feeling anything wrong. Like appreciating those escarce moments when you can breathe from both nostrils, when normally, you suffer from allergies.



    When I get sick I think a lot about how I should be a lot more thankful when I’m perfectly healthy. So, recently I got a stupid flu, and it wasn’t even the worst flu ever, but I felt like I was a super fragile being. I get a regular flu and for two days I feel like dying. I can’t breathe right, I can’t sleep right, or eat, or talk… and all I can think of is how uncomfortable everything turns out to be just because I’m a little bit sick.

    When I was little I used to get a lot of paper cuts on my fingers. And because I was weird, and it felt weird for me, eventually I started to get paper cuts on purpose. It was amazing for me how a little, tiny cut disturbed my whole existence. This whole body is feeling right, but get one paper cut and immediately all you can feel is that piece of skin. Getting burned is also incredibly uncomfortable.

    The truth is we human beings are so very fragile. You can fall over and break a bone easily. You can sneeze so hard you can break a rib. You make a weird turn with your body and suddenly your knee is out of place (it happened to me). And yet, we look over and over for situations that put our lives in risk ON PURPOSE.

    What is it? Why do we love danger? Even if we are scared (raise your hand if you love scary movies). Why do we enjoy that rush of adrenaline and the possibility of, you know, dying? Why do we need to feel… so much…? Why do we need extreme experiences to make us feel alive? That’s just the way our body works.

    Such situations trigger a bunch of hormones into our brain, making us feel super-human, all of our senses work better and some other body functions slow down. Put all together and you get a rush of alertness and awareness that some people get addicted to. Pain from wounds (like paper cuts) also release endorphins, in an attempt to relieve the pain, but endorphins also boost pleasure.

    So yeah, that’s how the body works. But I’m not a scientist, I’m a weird hippy. So why?

    Are we so dead on regular basis, in our regular life that we need to search for something to make us feel alive? As we grow up less and less things make us feel excited( including food) so we start searching for different things to experience, and we go try exotic foods, weird sex positions and situations, different experiences, because we run away from monotony, and our senses start to work less and less. We start to die. We are always dying.

    But we are always dying because we almost never stop for a second to appreciate all the life in us. We should do it as many times in a day as possible. Thank your eyes, because you can (probably, how are you reading this?) see. Thank your skin, it’s the largest organ in your body, and it’s super sensitive, it gives you the sense of touch, it lets you enjoy the caress of the wind or from someone you love. Thank your ears, because music. Thank your tongue, because freaking chocolate. Your nose, because it’s awesome to smell people you like……….what?

    Start by thanking for the air you breathe. Have you notices the pleasure of inhaling and exhaling? It’s always there, but have you noticed? You don’t even have to put effort in it.

    Thank all your body, in sickness and in health, because against all odds, against your own will maybe, it’s trying to keep you alive. It works so hard, even when you are asleep, it literally fights for your life so you can eat those fries that actually kill it. But they make you happy, and your body is so humble that it says: “there, there, I’ll work the best I can with what all you are giving me, just for a chance to get one more day, one more shot at this, one more opportunity so you can discover what your existence means, so you can laugh, cry, and if you are lucky enough, so you can love.”

    Be kind to your body. Be kind to yourself in your mind too.

    Daily reminder: you are alive, but don’t forget you need to actually live.


    All images from pixabay