And what a simple thought...

Everything I have become,, everything I will ever accomplish cannot compare to my most impressive feat: I have loved you, fiercely, and assiduously. With the very marrow inside my bones. So that when I die, they can crack them to find you there. So that when I die, they can open me up and see your name tattooed on the wall of my heart. So that when I die, my epitaph will neither commemorate who I was nor what I did, but will read: he loved. And loved. And loved. And so, I smile now, because that is no small thing. 

If I go, I'm going...

A stranger light comes on slowly...

I wanna hold the hand inside you,

I wanna take the breath that's true.

I look to you and I see nothing,

I look to you to see the truth.

You live your life, you go in shadows,

you'll come apart and you'll go blind.

Some kind of night into your darkness,

colors your eyes with what's not there.

Anyone with a heart would agree...

The cherry on top...

How many of us stop short of success on purpose? How many of us sabotage our own happiness because failure, while miserable, is a fear we're familiar with? Success, however, dreams come true, are a whole new kind of terrifying, an entire new species of responsibilities and disillusions, requiring a new way to think, act and become. Why do I really want to quit? Because it's hopeless? Or because it's possible?

Oh life, how oft he throws you off and think, enough, enough of life in so much. Here's a cause for rupture; herein he must break with life, or be himself unworthy; here he is wronged, maimed, spoiled for aspiration: farewell life! And so, as a froward babe, I hide my eyes and think all ended. Then, life calls to me in some transformed, apocryphal, new voice. Above me, or below me, or around. Perhaps I name it nature's voice, or the universe. Tricking myself, because I am more ashamed to own my compensations than my griefs. Still, life's voice! Still, I make my peace with life.

Ran out of options...

He would liked to be able to say say that he has never wanted to hurt anyone. That all his actions have been true and altruistic. But that wouldn't be quite truthful. In fact, it would be very far from the truth. When his heart shattered, he wanted to hurt everyone, to make them feel what he felt, or even just not to be alone in it. In the wake of his loss, he longed to throw away everything he has worked for, just to undo the agonizing truth that he could not accept.

Get on my speed...

He stares, because he knows...

Beyond the edge of the world there's a space where emptiness and substance neatly overlap, where past and future form a continuous, endless loop. And, hovering about, there are signs no one has ever read, chords no one has ever heard. And it is on that very edge that you will always remember me, at the edge you will last be remembered, where sanity and insanity come together, for a time, then separate. Like leaves on autumn trees, that color the world, but for a moment, then leave. At the edge, where life losses its edginess, and thoughts will become one, someday. At the edge the sun drops, the ring falls, and senses of raindrops climb upwards to the gray sky.

In my room...

I'm going up, down, 

backwards I got forwards for you now.

You care for me,

when no one else is there for me.

You provide air for me, 

to breath I'll watch you restlessly.

Come tomorrow...

All our lives, we journey from one dream to another, trying to grasp the ones that captivate us the most. Yet, tragically, these dreams are as fleeting as dry sand slipping through our fingers, no matter how tightly we hold on. Sometimes, I fear that you may turn out to be one such cherished dream in my life.

Suddenly, the river swept round a bend, and the banks rose upon either side, and the light was hidden. To that fair land he never came again. The travellers now turned their faces to the journey; the sun was before them, and their eyes were dazzled, for all were filled with tears. Torment in the dark was the danger that he feared, and it did not hold him back. But he would not have come, had he known the danger of light and joy. Now he has taken my worst wound in this parting, for such is the way of it: to find and lose, as it seems to those whose boat is on the running stream.

Parting is such sweet sorrow...

Not so long ago, during what felt like an outpouring of his live, there came a moment when everything stopped. Time stood still, and his soul become trapped in that very moment. It was like a coiled spring that could extend and stretch, but ultimately, it always returned to its original shape. Back to that frozen moment in time. He doesn't know when you'll see each other again or what the world will be like when you do. You may both have seen so many horrible things. But he will think of you every time he needs to be reminded that there is beauty and goodness in this strange thing we call life.

Like the words of a song...

I will act now. I will act now. I will act now. From now on, I will repeat these words each hour, each day, everyday, until the words become as much a habit as my breathing, and the action which follows becomes as instinctive as the blinking of my eyelids. With these words I can condition my mind to perform every action necessary for my success. I will act now. I will repeat these words again and again and again. I will walk where failures fear to walk. I will act now for now is all I have. I am not a failure. I will act now. If I delay, success will become lost to me forever. This is the time. This is the place. I am the person.

Tomorrow I'll be gone...

It isn't easy to say goodbye...

For a while there, you had me convinced...

Swear it was like, 

I'll be damned, 

I'm finally back to being who I am.

When I was over, 

it was overnight.

Light came on, 

it all felt right, 

when it all went wrong.

It all depends...

I think I might have forgotten that life was never meant to be understood. It was meant to be felt. I spend so much time trying to figure everything out. Trying to fix. Explain. Solve. Control. But life is not a puzzle, it's a wave. And I was never meant to carry the wave. I was meant to let it move through me. 

The joy, the fear, the heartbreak. The moments that didn't make sense until much later. I was never broken. I was becoming. I think my sadness comes when I try to hold on to what's meant to pass. I grip the moment, the person, the feeling. Hoping to freeze it in time. But everything I ever loved, was borrowed. And the beauty of it was never in the holding, it was in the being. So when it starts hurting again, I won't rush to escape it. When I get lost, I won't race to find direction. I'll feel it. All of it. Because this too, is part of the dance. And maybe if I'll listen closely enough, even my pain will teach me how to be alive.