All of a
sudden the words get stuck in my throat and I can’t write anymore, I don’t know
what to say. I like smoking because in some way it makes me focus, it lands me
on earth and its clouds clear my mind. It entertains my anxious hands and my hungry
of love lips; it burns the unnecessary words and fills my lungs with bravery
and calmness. I don’t know how but it wraps me in some strange imaginary safeness
and the moment is a little less chaotic, a little more mine.
I don’t
feel good today. And I don’t want to feel good because sometimes I need to not
feel good. I don’t want to be cheered up or to say motivational words
because today I feel lonely and full of doubts and fear. Today I don’t want to
be happy just because “I have to”. Today I’m sad and weird and that’s okay. I don’t
want to go outside and admire anything, I want to be isolated and watch the roof
from my bed. I’m not a mess and I know peace will be back, just not today. Today
I’m empty and nothing is okay.
It scares
me that my life could be a complete chaos again, to sink in the pain and sorrow
and not knowing how to get out of it. It scares me to be lonely, even if I try to
convince myself that it doesn’t. It scares me to be hurt, it scares me to love
and to feel because I know how intensely I do. I don’t want to suffer, not
again, not yet.
Sometimes I
feel loved and sometimes I feel abandoned. Sometimes I love life and others I just want
it to end already. Sometimes I’m thirsty of experiences and sometimes I don’t want
to get out of my bedroom. Sometimes I’m one and sometimes I’m another.
I feel like
crying but I don’t want to. I don’t want it to hurt, I don’t want to be broken
and become fragments of myself. I wish I wasn’t so fragile, so naïve always, I wish
I was more centered and thought more with the brain and less with the heart. I wish
I didn’t get hopes and learnt to know about reason and logic. And at the same time I don’t.
Maybe things would be easier, but then maybe I wouldn’t be myself.
And despite
of everything, deep inside I know it’s all fine. And that I wouldn’t really
change a thing, even if I break into pieces every time.
As ephemeral as it was this time, it also was the sweetest, and it doesn’t
really hurt, it feels good. And it always heals and I always start again.
