The act of writing.

Why do we write? 

To feel fully alive.

However, sometimes I'd break my words, my thoughts into several pieces and I'd throw away all that rubbish. 

I don't want to say impersonal words, that's the reason why I'm often quiet.

I want to compose something great! I just need some time to live, learn, write.

Inaccurate definition.

You appeared in my life out of the blue and now I can barely think of other things. I manage every day to find you, accidentally. You know it deep inside.

I am just trying to get to something truthful that make sense. If that's you at last, I will give you all of me.

Oh please, let's give each other a sense of identity. 

The will to death is what keeps me alive.

The hopes of yesteryear are not next to me anymore. Everyone is pretending to breathe as I collapse, that's it. I reckon I am not in the right place. I look back on my life and everything I find is confusion. 

''No action should be taken involving comfort risk.'' I disagree, I'm sorry. I'll get my objective. I've learnt everything from loss, so I won't lose anyway.

You know I tried to be part of regular life, but I lost my faith, I lost my patience.

Present.

I’ve been lost since my very first day here. Who are you? Which way does the wind blow? What is my place? Why do I need love? How did we get here? When will we disappear? Would you go back to the start? Will you manage through the years?

I'm chasing shadows. 

The miracle of being alive is worthy. Avoid these questions. Carry on. 

A wannabe.

I used to see you as a role model, a resistance hero however the situation was. I wanted to make you proud. I wanted to make you proud. Nevertheless, I have finally understood that you were the ghost of my infancy. In the aftermath of your undisclosed desires we can wistfully watch her ruins, his ruins, my ruins. We will raise ourselves, don't you worry! I hope you will be ok, but leave me alone. Back off! Stop pretending nothing happened -you cannot suture my wounds any longer.