His soul is escaping...

I am still scared. I am still lost. I am still me.

I let my emotions go and I am instantly rushed by an exhilarating sense of freedom. To admit that which I always somehow knew, shined on the decision I'll need to make if I'm truly to become everything I've ever wanted. Things are going so good, because that way, it's going to be harder when the inevitable comes, and I'll have to let everyone go. It's not supposed to be easy, and as it's unfolding now, it's shaping up to be one hell of choice. The life being presented at my feet is one most crave for their entire existence, yet it's not the one I dream of at night, it's not the one I wished for. And that it seems, is the story of my life. The story of a boy who's come so far, yet is still stuck together and torn apart by a destiny fabricated solely from his determination to never be forgotten. The moment is lost on me, the joy of living - a mere distraction from the journey ahead. So I am left with my fading resolve, my pale green eyes, and that stupid grin on my face.

Swinging around revolving doors...

And when the rain would fall down

I'd just stare out my window,

dreaming of what could be,

if I'll end up happy.

Trying hard to reach out,

but when I try to speak out,

feels like no one can hear me.

Trying to belong here,

but something feels so wrong here,

so I pray I could break away.

I could be the one...

To make you free.

To make you fly.

To make you be.

Just for today, just for tomorrow...

I am the ocean, and all of you are fascinated by my depth and my emptiness, but you are too afraid to plunge in deep to learn more about me. You float in the shallows and say you love my salty tears - you love my waves and you the love the beautiful shells I churn out. You are aware there are monsters deep within me, but you make no attempt to see them face-to-face. You are happy in your ignorance  and I wrap myself around you as you frolic in the perfection you see at my surface and ignore the horrors you know are there. I kiss you like I kiss the shoreline, pulling away, yet always rushing back. You ignore the fact that I swallow the light every night, and I am controlled by the forever changing moon. You do not know everything about me, but maybe that's for the best. Knowledge would not be power in this case; knowledge would suck you into the inky depths of my madness and cause you to drown. I am the ocean and you are simply someone who passes by - and I do not blame you for this one bit, not even at all.

Sometimes I need to be alone, just to make sure I still can. I've been so wrapped in my new surroundings that I hardly recognise myself. I laugh louder than ever, and feel greater love than I dare to admit, and though the world does it's best to straddle me, I remain calm, focused on the journey ahead, and the obstacles I know I'll have to face. I'm sure I can be the one to set them free, to rise above and beyond, and reach the unreachable. I can feel it somewhere in my bones, buried deep beneath the rubble of walls I shattered to get to where I am. Life seems as perilous as ever, and the decisions I'm faced with every day take a bigger toll with each passing moment. Though there is a only but a slim chance that I truly touch the sky, it still shines as bright as it was the instant it was born, and the hope that it will one day take me where I want to go, burns a fire in my heart and ignites the sleeping soul.

Sing for the moment...

You are thunder in my heart...

It's one of those stories you can't even write about, because it's so unimaginably perfect that all you want to do is spend every waking and sleeping minute with each other - the menial task of writing it down becomes more of a hassle than actual comfort. I wonder though if not finding the words for it, means it hasn't affected me that deeply, yet how can that be? After all we went through, how is it possible that I haven't spilled my soul onto a piece of paper? How come there aren't novels already finished, poems already sung, stories already told? I ponder these thoughts as I lay in your arms and as you lay in mine, and sometimes without even realising it, I'm struck with this overwhelming sense of guilt. I know in my heart and soul that I would travel to the moon and back, just to be your dream come true, but then I think, what about my dreams? What about my notions of how my life is supposed to unfold? Am I blind to the fantasy right in front of me or has my past truly made me so cynical and forever sceptical of the happiness I have been awarded? As always the answers are far from simple, and the truth is too complicated to recognise. Perhaps the journey meant to unfold is one I should not be able to predict, for that alone is my life - a boy who keeps running away from the life he was given, in constant state of shock from a trauma that never happened. 

The reason you loved me before...

When was the last time 

you thought of me?

Or have you completely erased me 

from your memory?

I often think about where I would roam,

the more I do, 

the less I know.

When life is not enough...

Even though so much time has passed, even though both of them have changed in ways they never thought possible, somehow they can still find peace in each other's eyes. Someone falls to pieces, someone swears his true love until the end of time, and suddenly, for the briefest of moments, they find themselves on the boulevard of broken souls. Something is different though, something significant. They can't place it at first. It fades from their perception like an echo screaming through a valley. They run after it, thinking they've stumbled upon the answer, the ultimate truth that shall set them free. They pray their feet don't fail them now, and that this chase is not by mistake, but by design. They are right behind it, so close they can brush against it with their limbs. In that instant, the dream starts collapsing, and as they are about to claim it as their own, they awake, and as always before, they feel more lost than ever.  

Finally drifting away...

I think there are few worse feelings than to run into someone from your past who used to mean the world to you. It's as if the universe is mocking you, taunting you, and making damn well sure you realise that you are no longer who you once were, and the world you knew is far gone. Sometimes people slip by without our intent, yet circumstances become so interwoven that it becomes a battle just to keep breathing, let alone save anyone else floating beside you. I try not to dwell on it too much, I mean I should have gotten used to this feeling of moving on alone, always slightly wiser and inherently more acute to my surroundings. It still takes a toll on me though, and I think that's how it's supposed to unfold. Because if it would be easy, then it didn't mean that much, it wasn't that important. But if you are to take anything from reading this, know that I shall cherish the moments spent, and mourn those lost forever, both equally and with immense sorrow, one I cannot describe, one I will never show, yet hold in my heart until the end of time.

The boy who's in love with the world, spends all his time waiting for that which shall never come. He's chasing his dreams, and even more he wants to be everything the people around him demand. He wants to be their saviour, their dream come true, their indestructible rock in times of crisis. He wants to be wanted, needed, desired. But most of all, he wants to be loved the way they love in great literature. He wants the unattainable to be within arms length, yet never quite within his grasp. Conflicted between two extremes, battling them at the same time, yet trying to land on both sides. Torn apart by demons already banished, and stuck together by spectres that never really existed. Thus is the existence of a boy who'll always want a little more than he'll get and ten folds more than he'll ever deserve. 

Chasing my dreams for a living...

If I'd only try turning around...

It's a strange existence, floating between the life you think you deserve, and the life that has been handed to you. A constant struggle to let go and move on, without ever really taking the time to bask in the wonders before you. Moments slip by, hearts break and never heal, tears dry up after a lifetime of crying, and still, even after everything, the boy I ran away from, gazes from my reflection. I try to shatter the mirror, yet tiny pieces remain, and the images haunt me in my dreams. I thought I crossed the world, reached the other side and found truth where souls go to die, but as it seems, the only real thing I ever had, was taken from me too soon and without notice. The wheels spin on, and no matter how heavy it gets, paradise always seems just around the corner. The harsh conditions matter not, for all I want, for all I've ever wanted, is to break the chains that bind, and walk away from the life they think I lead. I wonder tough, I wonder a lot; is it slavery when you get what you want?

These words are my diary, screaming out loud...

They call me because I'm still awake,

can you help me unravel my latest mistake?

I can't jump the track,

I'm like cars on a cable,

and life's like an hourglass

glued to the table.

No one can find the rewind button,

so cradle your head in your hands,

and breathe,

just breathe.

I'm as far in, as I'll ever be out...

Somewhere in the back of my mind I always knew I wasn't cut out for this - the whole notion of loving and receiving love in return truly is the hardest thing I've ever done, and probably one I'll always look back to and wonder if it was truly worth it. I promised myself that I'd never hesitate to fly away to paradise, but now I feel as if my heart isn't the only one worth considering. If I am responsible for the downfall of another, how can I ever expect to become an agent of change? And not just any change, but the one that awakens the slumbering and sets ablaze those who thought themselves long forgotten. I dreamt of a world beyond my comprehension, yet I've been given one that's harshly real. One fraught with all the choices in the world and in the same instant, no choices at all. One I can't escape from without doing what's been done to me, without becoming the boy I swore I'd never be.

"It is not yet your time," she whispered. "It's not yet the place," she mumbled. "It too shall come," she tried to scream, yet her voice was swallowed whole by the echo of the past. They both knew it was only a matter of time until it caught up, until it could no longer be ignored. First it started with her. It conjured images of what she has done, and what she failed to do. Soon there was only a fraction of her left, and as she started to dissipated into the abyss, you could feel her tears tearing through the veil of the undying. It crept up to him - slowly at first, then all at once. He knew there was nothing he could do, nothing he could say, nothing he could change. All there was left was to face his spectres, and hope he's left standing once they're done.

Knowing when to fold...

I still find it so fascinating how people perceive me. I've worked so long to create this image, this person I thought I wanted to be, that somewhere along the way I forgot who I really am. I know that boy is still somewhere, lying dormant and awaiting to be found, yet there are times more numerous than I'd like to admit, when I feel as if I don't want to search for him. What if it turns out he's not the man I want to be, hope to be, need to be? What if he's far more reckless than the reflection I gaze upon in the mirror? As I brush the surfaces of souls I meet in passing I am left in complete disbelief of how little I know about this world. I question the purpose of their glares, the subject of their judgement, and the intent of their solicitations. I find that when it comes to me, or better yet, when it comes to this visage I created, people are either incredibly annoyed, unusually intimidated or ... they're in love.

Walking out the door...

The odds of faith in the face of doubt...

If you ever had the chance, would you do it all again?

This sensation I'm constantly feeling, I think that's what they call being an adult. Making decisions you know will alter the future in unpredictable ways and realising that if something goes wrong, you'll have no one else to blame but yourself. It's terrifying, it really is, and anyone who tells you different, is either lying or hasn't experienced it for himself. They never talk about how hard it gets, and how unimaginably confusing your life will seem. The constant struggle to get up in the morning and make something of yourself, anything really, feels like a never-ending battle between the life we think we deserve, and the path we've been set upon. A war that's been lost, even before we started fighting and a quest we can only finish once we give up.

As I fade in and out of my reality, each time interwoven with more dire circumstances and with a lesser understanding of the destiny I have been foretold, I take a deep breath and make the wish I've wished since I can remember. While I have an increasing fear that I'll one day wake up with my life collapsing beneath my feat, I move forward, holding my head as high as I can, and trying to maintain the sparkle in my eyes, using all my might to hold back the tears. They will not see me cry, no matter how defeated I feel or how much I feel I've already given up, already sacrificed, already lost. It's funny how life turns out, and how sometimes there's nothing left to do, but take a bow.