Navy blue

Sometimes I find myself drowning in memories I didn't even remember I had within me. Recently I've come to realise that there is a certain memory that makes it all seem worthwhile.

I remember your room. The whole apartment, actually. I remember everything. And that's so weird 'cause I've only been there three times. I remember the layout of your room and the fact that there is a red light in the corner, next to that tapestry picturing The Moon. And somehow red was never the color that reminded me of you. It was always blue. Navy blue.

It took me a long time to understand why. But lately, as the memories came flooding in once again while I'm struggling to stay sober, I remembered. It was probably past 2 AM and you were still trying to impress me, although I told you many times you didn't have to do anything. I wonder if that was the most vulnerable moment you ever had with me.

We were lying unclothed in your bed just talking about pretty much anything that came to mind, like a couple that has been together for a long time and is simply enjoying some pillowtalk, but that didn't seem to matter that much. You still wanted to impress me somehow.

So you picked your guitar up and began strumming. I said it was already so late and the noise could wake someone up. I wasn't even scared for the other people in the apartment, but I was a little scared of neighbours complaining. You said I was right and put the guitar away.

I remember thinking you looked so handsome while strumming the guitar under the moonlight that came through the window. The room was dark but somehow the darkness seemed blueish and I remember looking at your ribcage and concentrating on your breathing. I'm pretty sure you have no idea how beautiful that image was to me. Everything was navy blue.

You didn't need to impress me by playing the guitar or showing me your band or the music you were working on. You didn't need to try to charm me, to show me your best qualities so I could see you had some worth. You didn't need to do any of these things, because I was already impressed by your mere existence. I'm so sorry you couldn't seem to understand that.

This is probably one of the most beautiful moments we had together, and I'm pretty sure you don't even remember it. It's okay. I'm glad I get to keep this to myself.

I'm sorry about how things turned out. And I know I'm not really guilty, but I'm sorry that I had to do what I did to protect myself. I'm sorry that I have to deal with all of this by myself because it was so beautiful and yet I have watched it die in slow motion over and over again.

Maybe I'll always grieve that night. Maybe I'll forget it someday. In a thousand years, or maybe a week. I don't know. But, for now, I'm just glad that I can still see beauty in what has been.

Thank you thank you

I have reasons to believe my life is coming to an end. If not by illness, then maybe through my own hands. I may be wrong—I hope I'm wrong. And that's okay. It doesn't matter weather I'm really dying, what matters is what the thought of dying, of ending my life, got me thinking of.

Sure, there are many things I wish I could do. But I know that, even if I had more time, I probably wouldn't do it. I know myself well enough to acknowledge I'm not gonna get what I want out of this life. That's fine. The point is not what I would like to do, but what I have actually done with my life. And, honestly, I'm grateful.

I'm grateful because even though I haven't become a successful psychologist, I got to touch the lives of many people. Even if for a brief second, if it was enough to bring forth some change, then I consider my job done. And I know I have changed many people, even when they themselves don't realise it. It's okay. I'm not here for the fame.

I'm glad for the life that I've led. Sure, I wish I had my own house by the beach. I wish I could live to see plenty sunrises by the sea. But, at the end of the day, I'm just glad that I got to meet the people I've met, I got to have the conversations I've had, I got to grow and inspire and be there for someone, even if just for a little while.

But do you wanna know what I'm the most grateful for? The thing that makes me sleep at night thinking that, if this is it, I'm glad to go because I had the chance to have this in my life? Well.

It is the both of you.

Blow your trumpets, Gabriel

It's been a long time coming and I know the end is near 'cause I can feel the warmth of the Sun on my back and at night I cry among the swords. I know the end is near 'cause every time I see myself floating towards the past I realise I'm only doing it because the present feels boring, even when it isn't. I realise I'm running, so I tie my shoes and I try my best to stay on track, and I know I'm bound to fall every now and then, but I also know my feet are touching the ground, the impact reminding me I'm still running, I'm still going, and it may hurt after a while but at least I'm moving forward, and from afar I can see that the past can't catch up to me because it's not running after me—it's inside my head and I had the power to shut it up all along. I used to think my mistakes were ghosts who would haunt me and keep me awake at night, but now it seems the only reason I'm not sleeping is because I actually have nothing to worry about at 3 AM. And as long as I remind myself that boring isn't bad, I can get through anything. There are no ghosts. There are only echoes. And they're fading.

IV of Swords

I feel like I have allowed the death of many parts of myself in the past few months. As if I'm a spider having to let go of the old exoskeleton since I can't really fit inside of it anymore. And although I'm constantly mourning my old self, it turns out this process is not as painful as it seems to be. Some parts of my mind are completely shattered — they have been for a while now —, but somehow I feel like clarity is blooming inside of me.

I've been feeling and thinking and growing and one day I'll be ready to expand, although it may not be so soon. Letting go of an old exoskeleton is a very slow process indeed. All is well, though. I'm not broken and I'm not stuck. I am still.

cracked open by Light

thank you for listening to my manic rumblings although i know it may not make sense, i haven't been making sense for a while now but i'm so happy you seem to understand and i'm so happy that my mind goes completely blank when i'm with you because i'm so tired of the endless chain of thoughts that flood my mind every waking hour so thank you for understanding that i do love life but not the one i'm having but the one i could have thank you for understanding i'm not lost i'm just somewhere i don't want to be even though i'm supposed to but i think that's exactly the point thank you for listening and understanding the bible is the biggest book on earth and it is about me it is about you and me and everyone else but mostly it is about me and i know we just went throught passover and that's me and that means i still have a lot of work to do i need to make sense of the trauma and the pain and the hurt but in the end it all makes sense when i understand that this is about me and my life and the fact that death is the biggest leap of faith and maybe i'm not ready yet but i have faith and soon i will be and i'm so thankful you understand. thank you a thousand times and i hope this isn't goodbye but it's okay if it is because for at least one night i felt seen and that's the most beautiful thing in the world.

G-d is Pressure pt. II

I haven’t been too afraid of the dark lately. More than being scared, I find comfort in the possibility that there is something behind the veil. I have spent so long trying to shed a light on the path that I ended up forgetting that, every now and then, walking with eyes closed is enough.

It’s been some time I have been trying to gather the shards of a previous existence. Such a mission, however, is bound to fail: there is no use in trying to fix a unity when the direction that should be traveled is exactly the opposite. I gave so much for keeping my head above the water that I forgot it is on water that life is created, on earth it evolves, on fire it ends and on air it unweaves.

What once helped me keep on living is now of no service to me. My magical thinking tendencies are getting in the way of my ability to see reality as it is, and at such times when it is so palpable, I see myself trying to escape into the hopes of a new ephemeral adventure, like a match that has been lit but its flame is of limited time length.

Back then, I spent hours trying to understand, to see how it could have been. I have cried for hours thinking that I’ve hit the bottom of the well. Somehow I slowly realized it was a fake bottom that soon gave in, throwing me into the deep waters; deep enough to scare me with the possibility of drowning.

At this sorry state, the walls of the well are too high to climb and the waters too deep for my feet to touch the ground. Nevertheless, I know that, somewhere deep, there is an aperture through which the water comes in. Sadly, according to my circumstances, that may be the only way out. Not up, but down, until I can find the current.

I acknowledge this seems like a suicide mission. But alas, at such a desolate place in existence, there is no rescue team to come and save me. The only option I have is to follow my own conviction, even if it gets me killed at the end.

I’m tired of fighting with broken bones from the frequent floods and droughts I have been surviving in hopes of getting some sense of stability. It’s too late to go back but also too soon to end it. I have a lot to lose, but if Death is what awaits me, I still have no regrets. Isn’t that the point, after all? To live a life worth dying for.

If I ever intend to get out of this well, the way up is down. And if there is something bigger than all of this, if there really is something behind the veil, then I know the rivers of serenity are real, for I can constantly feel its pressure on my Crown.

Escape plan

It's been two years since my world started to crumble. And as much as I've been trying to rebuild it, I know new storms are on their way, and I know I'm still too weak to cope. I thought that, if I could go through that, I could go through anything. I thought I had learned my lesson.

Turns out I'm getting sick again and it doesn't matter how hard I try, I will never get rid of this. It's ironically similar to cancer; everytime I think I'm doing better, it's back, and the only way I know how to deal with it is by cutting it off. But, ultimately, I feel as if I'm bound to lose this war. Just like they did.

I'm not leaving this world yet. I'm fighting once again. I just don't know how many cycles I can endure. I'm tired and I wanna go Home. I don't wanna hurt anymore.

Let me down slowly, let me down slowly
Fragile mind will break into a thousand parts
After all this time still running from the same things
It feels like all my life I'm running from the same things
I put it all on the line, would you be my escape plan?

Growing on You

It is happening again. It's like I'm stuck in a loop I'll never get out of, no matter how hard I try. But, at least for now, I know it is an illusion — I'm worshipping a golden calf. It's just that I'm tired and I wanna go Home.

Knowing its true nature is not solving the problem, knowing illusions are bound to manifest themselves is no immunity, knowing you mustn't fall for it doesn't mean you won't. And, most importantly, knowing that it is possible to live without it doesn't mean you ever will.

It's both a blessing and a curse in the end. It's not going to go away — it will keep on growing and repeating itself, it will keep on expanding and creating new illusions, and at the end of the day all I have to do is get through it.

I just wish I didn't. Why do I have to get through it? Why can't I just go Home? Can someone please just help me make it Home?

God,
grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
courage to change the things I can,
and wisdom to know the difference.

Mortal after all

I wasn't ready for the flood, again. I sometimes feel like I'll never really be ready, as if my ark is never going to be strong enough to endure the hard days and nights in which the world is submerged. As if it's always going to be too much and that I won't make it until dawn. I'm not sad, though. It's been hard, and I'm fighting with broken bones, as I've always been, and I've been winning some battles, but there are some that I know I won't. Some things are broken beyond repair. I'm mortal after all. And I guess that's the most important fact about me. I'm mortal. The night will come. And then the day will come. And then the night will come again. And I've been learning to sleep during the night. And, maybe, one of those nights, I'll sleep for good. When the dawn comes, I won't wake up. That's when I'll know my prayers have been answered.