Don't loosen your grip, get a hold on me...

Dear solitude, how I missed you in the times I was so attached to the illusion of loneliness, how I secretly longed for you in times of distraction with music and addiction, how I desired to dive into the creativity of your silent whispers. Oh, solitude, I remember you there when I started writing, I recall your inspiring voice when pen hit paper. When I was no longer by your side, oh solitude, how you silently tried to draw me back, by showing me the continuous struggle to feel full among unfulfilling relationships or restless nights of loneliness.. Oh, solitude, if it weren't for you, where would I find all that you could provide, only you?

Storms are raging...

There is a mountain placed before me. It's wide, big; high above the clouds. With no way around it; no choice about it. Just to climb it, even through low sighs. Some mountains, I chose myself. Often those are quite easy to climb. They leave no bruise; I step on them like crumbs. No sweat, no fuss. But also no valuable lesson. Just an excuse after an excuse. There are harsh sessions on the high mountain. No breaks, no fountains. Just hardships and rough times. No awards, no rewards. Just emotional, mental tides and fines.

He has become a destiny with no back covers. With his back against the wall. His back totally exposed to all. But, step by step, day by day, with his veins, he climbs up but not in vain. Some days he wants to go back to his fortress. Some days he only sees black, no success. But, after a while, mounting in grime, he forgets about the pain. The hardships start to fade and he seeks to become one with isolation. In isolation, he starts to rely on himself more. He learns to love all his sores; to trust his own instincts. In the end, he reaches the top. Out of it all, he comes out unbreakable, alive. Tired but, surely, revived.

I'll hold on until now...

Head in the clouds, but no closer to the sun...

I'm starting to question 

if the universe is trying to teach me a lesson.

I'm starting to wonder 

if my true colors changed since I left.

I used to shine bright like gold, 

now I'm all indigo.

My colors are darker and cold, 

I think it's time that I went home.

If it weren't for the wind...

Sometime, somewhere, somehow...

Če je kje usoda,

naj udari, naj pokaže smer.

Time is the one thing I have been given, and in turn, I have been given to time. It truly gives me a whirl, as I keep waking from a dream I can't recall, looking around in surprise, and lapsing back, for years on end. It happened as I was awake, with my eyes closed, when I had a dream. It was a small dream about time. I was dead, I guess, in deep blank space high up above many white stars. My own consciousness had been disclosed to me, and I was happy. Then I saw far below me a long, curved band of color. As I came closer, I saw that it stretched endlessly in either direction, and I understood that I was seeing all the time in which I had lived. And then what previously felt endless, instantly felt so small and fragile. Like a blimp, and it's gone. 

With the hero in your dream...

Karr, you can't let things like guilt, fear, anger, and grief be the narrative of your life. You need to train your mind to latch on something less toxic. Something a bit more beautiful. Because the thing is, the world keeps spinning and you're going to be left behind in your own miserable sorrow. Loss is hard. It's difficult. We do not always win, but when we do, we cherish those wins. You cannot be afraid to live just because you're scared of losing. You only live once, Karr. Cherish its highs and its lows. Don't be scared to live it. Don't let fear take over you like it once did me.

No one could save me but you...

My love is so mythical, magical...

I don't always feel it,

but that's when I need it the most,

so I'll keep on singing,

until my soul catches up with my song.

There's times when my hands go up freely,

and times that it costs.

There's days when praise comes out easy,

and days when it takes all the strength I've got.

I don't mind if this takes a million days...

Like a tornado swirling around me, I am in the eye of the storm. I have a front row seat to the destruction of everything I've worked oh so hard to build. I try to tell myself that like all tornadoes, the rain will halt and the winds will calm. The pieces that remain from the cataclysmic destruction of my former self, will soon dissolve and I will find that the only thing that was destroyed was the illusion, the attachment. Allowing me to rebuild a new, a stronger, a more mature me, that I didn't even know existed. So I have faith, that this too shall pass.

What would he do without this world faceless incurious, where to be lasts but an instant. Where every instant spills in the void the ignorance of having been. Of becoming something from nothing and then nothing from something all in one breath. What would he do? What did he do yesterday and the day before? Peering out of his deadlight looking for another wandering like him. Hello? Is anyone there? Edging far from all the living in a convulsive space among the voiceless voices that throng his aloneness.  

Life can break my heart if it wants to...

Let the fires bathe us...

Mislim, da sem končal.

Zdaj pa res. 

It's hard to say what exactly is wrong with him. It's nothing, but it's also all-encompassing. He feels strangely empty, devoid of thought and energy. He is not sure where his days go, but they go. Every single thing he must do, any hint of a demand, grinds against him. He doesn't know what he'd do in that time should he ever achieve that perfect aloneness. He likes to think he would write more, but in truth he would probably sleep. His brain feels entirely separate from him. It is empty, but it also cannot take any more in. It seems that it's a useless organ, endlessly refusing to notice what he wants it to notice. It will not engage. It just glances off everything, a pale beam.

Talk enough sense and you'll lose your mind...

On the broken road...

Here's who I am; I am a lover of words and tragically beautiful things, poor timing and longing, and all things connected with my soul. Oftentimes I wonder if that means I am entirely broken, or if those are the things that have been keeping me whole. I have never seen battles quite as terrifyingly beautiful as the ones I fight when my mind splinters and races, to swallow me into my own madness, again. I will blaze through you like a gypsy wildfire. Igniting you soul and dancing in its flames. And when I am gone, the smell of the smoke will be the only thing left to soothe you. But above all I hope that someday when I am no where to be found, someone, somewhere, picks my soul up off of these pages and thinks, I would have loved him.

I’ve got voices in my head and I can’t lie...

Just like the air I'm breathing, 

these open wounds ain't healing.

I've been holding onto pieces,

swimming in the deep end,

trying to find a way back to you,

because I'm needing.

I need some relief...

Like the sun, I rise in all my glory and splendor. As the sun, I seek the shade of the clouds during stormy moments in my life. If the sun remained constant and bright, it would be missing a lot of beautiful changes that take shape during moments of retreat. Like the sun, I pull back as I set intentions anew to reawaken with the morning light. I will allow myself the same space as I allow the sun. I will master the setting and the rising, and all the transformations in between. 

Keep moving, Karr. No need to ever look back. If nothing else, at least walk. Feel the earth under your feet with the feelings that once felt like defeat, leaving meaning in the imprints of your soul. Walk, with the universe on your back. Walk, journey, trust and receive. All while walking into infinity with the realisation that there is nowhere else to be. You are here. Exactly where you are supposed to be. Feel the embrace of fate and feel the echoes of eternities grace. Walk with them for there is no place to be except here and now.