I adore us...

The stories I write are not like a road to follow ... they are more like a house. I go inside and stay there for a while, wandering back and forth and settling where I like, discovering how the room and corridors relate to each other, how the world outside is altered by being viewed from these windows. And all of you, the visitors, the readers, are altered as well by being in this enclosed space, whether it is ample and easy or full of crooked turns, or sparsely or opulently furnished. You can go back again and again, and the house, the story, always contains more than you saw the last time. It also has a sturdy sense of itself, of being built out of its own necessity, not just to shelter or beguile you, but to offer you something more profound, something that is not of the mind, but of the heart, of the irrational and unexplainable, of the magical and miraculous, understood only by those lost souls, who know what it means to be stuck together, yet torn apart.

He has decided he has to change again. Not as profoundly as before, but surely in ways that won't go unnoticed. Once and for all, he has to grow up. Today he shall exorcise his last demon and then lay it to rest - be it by finally acknowledging his illness or forever banishing it from thought. After all is said and done, he will walk forward, perhaps not towards the dreams he dreamt, but towards a life built on firm grounds. A life that does not hide behind clouds and under the ocean, but one that finds meaning in weathering storms and enjoys calm seas. He will stand above the fray and take in the view as he is embraced by his missing piece. He will do so, until he can't, and then he will move on with dignity and grace, without tears or a breakdown for the masses. He is stable, and he is in control. For he has finally, against every odd in the world, managed to take a deep breath and let go.

Laugh until we think we'll die...

Suffocate my soul...

As I was sitting near the ocean and staring out in the distance, trying to imagine the road ahead, I started drawing blanks. There is nothing in my mind - no dreams, no aspirations, no reminiscing about the past, not even crazy scenarios about a future I'll never get to live. All I saw was you, lying beside me, naked, and for the first time in my life I felt as if I really didn't need anything else. I felt weightless, like a plastic bag being blow all around the world, never reaching the ground and forever floating towards the stars. I will cherish these moments for I know that they are fleeting and my happiness has always been short lived. I shall emote without fear and self-doubt, and I am going to express every single silly thought I have, then if you stay despite of my inherent insanity, and your hand remains in mine, I will without question be certain that this is a story which needs to be experienced, which needs to be told. You are the sky and I am the sun drowning in your eternal serenity. I will not waste any more time on words - they are a mere distraction from the present demanding to be lived, demanding to be heard, demanding to love unlike ever before.

Words and rhymes repeated...

The book of love is long and boring,

no one can lift that damned thing.

It's full of charts and facts,

some figures and instructions for dancing.

But I love it when you read to me,

and you can read me anything.

The same old empty feeling in my heart...

The psychosis is starting again. I try to block it, banish it from my subconsciousness, but it creeps into my brain no matter what. I witness its affects as I did with all of you, and I wonder if there is a cure for this debilitating illness? It has no real symptoms, no true identifiers, yet it gnaws at my soul as surely as any other terminal disease. It extinguishes the fire in my heart until I lose hold, and I become a spectator of the self-sabotage I inflict. I disappointed her, and that's why I don't deserve to be happy. I let her fall and then she was gone forever, so now I am left with nothing but the shell of who I had the potential to be. I want to love so much ... you have no idea how hard I'm trying to construct a reality in which I am simply a boy, and you are someone I can love without burden or restraint. I failed before, so it is quite certain I shall fail again - exactly as I did, precisely how I feared. I wonder what you'd say if you knew, if I told you the truth? Would you run like those before you? Would you erase me from thought, from matter, from mind? As all my dreams come crashing down, I see you as I close my eyes, and I wonder, why does everything I touch, slowly die?

I should be wiser...

Up in the clouds...

He keeps looking for things to be amiss. For a clear and evident sign that recent circumstances are too good to be true. There is simply no way this will come without repercussions. Something big is looming over his happiness, of that he is sure. He knows the universe all too well to think this is a selfless gift - something he can enjoy without fear or encumbrance. He wished for the stars no matter the cost, and now as he is getting exactly what he wished for, it seems as if the sacrifice might be greater than he ever imagined. He will either falter beneath the disease of his one and only mistake or a tempest of even more humongous magnitude is brewing just out of sight, ready to strike at any given moment. It will be a spectacle for the masses, one that shall deliver the final strike and end what should have ended long ago.

I take a deep breath and I try to conjure the life I think I want, the life I believe I deserve, the life she promised I'd lead. I see only distorted images and colours and blobs of matter floating above me. Never before have I felt so lost yet calm at the same time. The future is coming, yet all I feel is this unusually magnificent sense of peace - like there's nothing that could really knock me off my feet, though I realise that there are scenarios I can't even phantom. There will come a time when all of these thoughts shall feel like nonsense, something fabricated by a stupid boy who can't accept when he has it good, when he has it better than ever - yet until such a time arrives this is the story that he will write, these are the tears he shall cry, and you are the unseen and the unheard who will always, without question, get him through the day.

Living in a tree house...

Alabama, Arkansas...

While I don't think of you a lot - when I do, it hits me unlike anything I've ever experienced. I imagine where you are, how you're doing, if you're happy and if you found someone to make you whole. I think of calling you just to say hi, but as it seems, life rushes so fast I can't even keep up with today. I think ... I think a part of me will always miss you, and I'm happy that is the case, for all it means is that what I felt was real. Even though we didn't really know each other, even though we never got to explore the world as only two souls intertwined into a single entity can, you will forever be someone I admire ... someone I love. I hope you do not mistake my silence for anger or resentment, because I have banished both long ago, but as we've learned time has never been on our side, and I guess I'm not strong enough to swim against the current. When you find yourself drifting towards thoughts of me, think of me as you would of the moon - perpetually in motion, yet always there if you need someone to understand.

One less problem without you...

As his inner demons take hold and all the love he might feel shall soon vanish beneath the rubble of the destruction he is about to cause, he is calm and steady - for he has been here before. He has written these words, he has thought these thoughts and he has done everything that comes next. Nothing has changed, especially not his rotting heart and soul. They have taken even a stronger hold over his body and in truth, he has no control at all. They twist reality, making it seem worse than it is, making him act in ways that push people away, solely to uphold the pretence that he is being protected. Yet there is no guardianship here, no love for the wicked, the lost and the forgotten. He has made his wish and as much as he tries to rescind it, the strands of time have already been too long at work to change his trajectory. So he is headed straight towards sunlight, touching stars he passes by, and hoping they would stop him in his tracks. The boy who dreams, can never be awake, and the boy who wants the universe, surely needs to start with the sun. 

You make no sense to me...

Your hand fits in mine,

like it's made just for me,

but bear this in mind,

it was all meant to be.

I won't let these little things slip out of my mouth,

but if it's true,
it's you, it's you they add up to.

Building white picket fences...

Everything I have always dread is coming true. Just when I thought I've reached the pinnacle of all my needs, it seems that I was never meant to have my cake and eat it too. It's either love or success, and as clockwork, one blasts towards the sky as the other falters. The thing is, I don't think I can live with myself this way. As simply someone who is happy and is not celebrated or admired or adored. I'm not sure you're worth it ... if we're worth it. I'd rather be alone than forgotten and as it turns out, life is once again making me choose. I really don't know what to do, how to explain that while I love you, I love myself more, and I'm not willing to jeopardize the path to every dream I've ever dreamt, to every wish I've ever wished, to every song I've ever sung.

Just as he finally admits that it is time to ride off to regions unknown, he is stricken with a debilitating sense of panic. He is scared that he will never talk to you again. That he won't be able to gaze into your eyes and see his reflection. He is afraid he will never feel the same about anyone else, and that you will find someone who won't run away, and whisper in their ear all the beautiful things you're whispering to him as you embrace after being engorged in each other. The thought of him becoming a mere memory - a bad experience you shall learn from - tears him to bits, and makes him realise that while you are nothing like he expected, you may very well be the life he is meant to lead. Perhaps you are his exception, his glory, his win, his destiny, someone who shall make him forget that the tempest at sea has never raged with fiercer force, and remind him that he is strong, because he has been weak, and that he is fearless, because he has been afraid.

It's much too quiet...

This melody is meant for you...

Embers from burning trees...

Home is wherever I'm with you.

I'm realising that the world is far simpler than I thought. There are few hidden agendas, only a pinch of deceit and warmongering, just fragments of hate - everything else is ... love. It's happiness, and serenity, and all those emotions in between. I can handle failure, not because I have failed so many times before, but because in the grand scheme of things it doesn't really matter. I won't regret trying and not succeeding, or trying and completely falling short. I won't regret not dashing forward every minute of my every day, or selling out to chase after something I don't think I even wanted, at least not truly, not in ways that would matter, ways I could explain. I won't regret the choices I've made, the people I've hurt, the people that hurt me, and I won't dwell on who was right or who was wrong or why I wasn't good enough. I won't regret any of those things. I won't regret them because they led me to you, and while I can't be certain, I think that you are everything I've ever needed, everything I'll ever need.

My teenage dream...

My thoughts keep crashing upon themselves and I cannot, as hard as I try, figure out where the universe is leading me. It has given me things I never expected to get, and as I dread my inevitable spiral out of control, I am left wondering if perhaps this time, against all odds, things will turn out in my favour. Never before have I stood so closely to the precipice of change, and so fearlessly mocked the very notion that I could fail. I am no longer a child - my decisions matter. Who I hurt, who I let in, who I promise to love - all of these things mean something, they indicate who I am, who I'll become. What scares me most is that my future won't be anything like I imagined, like I wished for, that I'll have to succumb to the fact that I am meant for a life different than I dreamt of. I think ... I need to go silent for awhile. Again. I cannot write what I cannot understand, and I surely do not understand recent circumstances, which with each passing moment seem more unreal than before - more magical than I could have ever imagined.