ΦΩΣ

It is funny how at one point, you wish for something so deeply, it consumes you and is on your mind to no end, it invades your dreams, and you just want it to become a reality already, but then after a short period of time passes, it begins to eat at you, and then because of time you begin to doubt yourself and the situation and things begin to lose color and taste, and you grasp so desperately at them and make blind clutches in the dark, without really knowing if the hooks you set out snag anything, and you’re left questioning and worried, and in turn these feelings begin to take over and manifest themselves into the warmth and joy you once felt, and after such a short period of time your muse becomes your nightmare, and you only have an even smaller amount of time left until you discover the truth of the matter, so once again you begin to feel even more terrifying things which just destroy you because there is nothing left to claim, and instead of experiencing happiness, or worry, you just feel the hollow, nagging pit in your stomach reminding you of the complete foolishness of your mind, your quick thoughts and even quicker heart to judge the events that play out before you, but it all returns to one simple fact: no matter how nice or how pretty the memory you held so clearly in your mind only weeks before was, it is now a mucky, distorted past truth which doesn’t even feel much like a truth anymore, but more a cruel illusion, and you are still alone, and you will stay alone because you don’t know any better, but even worse is that you don’t know how to keep, or even be kept, which is the main cause of your solitude, it is the viscious cycle of your life, yet, as harsh as that may be, it is the only truth, and somewhere deep, down in the dark of the inside of your bones you find solace in this grim fact, because without it, you wouldn’t be you anymore, there would be no reason to keep fighting and breaking and healing, and without a reason, what reason is there to keep existing, was there any reason, are you even existing anymore, and were you ever in the first place?

Sono in italia, la vita è buono

There is always someone better than me.