The inside out. #2018


The shore was still there, buried inside my hidden dreams, unwilling to come up to the surface. It’s been so long since I haven’t dreamed of it that it would almost extinct. It was my deepest and guiding wish but I made a memory of it instead of pushing it’s realization. I did not forget about it. The perseverance was gone for a while.
I woke up thinking of it today. Who have I become. Reality caught too much space in my life and I let the dream go. Foolishness.
The shore was my life and the only thing keeping me alive. Alive by the full meaning of the word. That shall resurrect me. How can I end up on that shore if that is not the goal?
How do we get intimidated by small things and forget about the major goal? I don’t get fascinated by this side of humans. We get caught up in situations, place ourselves with the mass, fill our time with superficial habits and become mediocre. We become average and the sum of our being is kept captive by tolerable days and decisions. The sad thing is not realizing it on time.
What is the right time though? It’s now. It’s that one morning when you wake up and remember the exceptional thing you wanted to be.
Let’s bring up to the surface the shore, the goals, persuasion and excellence. After one year, let’s make it all about the first days, the shivering beginning, the kisses, the long nights, the one and only goal. The shore.

A ponder on a human soul.



You asked me where have I gone. I answered ”here”. But my voice was silent. I was mute, incapable to scream loudly where I am. But I’m here. You don’t know this because you’re blind. You cannot see me through your majestic shades and I fear there is nothing to be done anymore. The volume of my voice cannot increase anymore. My heart beats are too loud. But nobody can hear them. Neither you. Your faces are masked. You wear a mask of ego. The neighbour wears a mask of money. I wear a mask of pain. My friend wears a mask of nothingness. So that’s it. We are all wearing masks, covering our inner selves, imploring for someone to break them without giving our permission. Don’t you think that’s too much to ask for from another human being? Who is he to shave away my pain? Who am I to fight his ego?
We do not bother ourselves. We try nothing and we accomplish nothing. We starve ourselves and then we’re fed so we don’t die. Isn’t it ironic? We starve ourselves from truth and we’re fed with big fat lies. In the morning we complain about our situation and at night we hope for the best tomorrows. But we do nothing. We breath in polluted air and exhale some more garbage to the world. We become an intoxication for our own kind. We are drugged by other human beings; knowing that they can either be our paradise or our inferno. I suppose the next rhetoric question I should be asking is whether that’s a good or a bad thing, but I am not. I am sure you are already asking yourself that or something similar. Aren’t you?
If you are not, maybe you should worry. Or you must definitely worry.
My soul is made of glass. The outline is thick and forms a perfect circle. It resembles to a ball of fire. Sometimes steel. Mostly though it’s glass. It can break easily but the fire still exists, containing it, keeping it intact. My mask is made of pain. Some may say it resembles to my soul. Others claim there is no pain inside me, just a failure that I’m trying hard to bring upon myself. I don’t know which theory applies in my case but I wish none are true.
My heart’s state is variable. There is mostly pain; the kind of pain that consumes me, burns my insides and somehow feeds me hope. My soul, I’ve seen, is more than glass and fire, or steel. My soul is blue, green and red. My soul is a mixture of clouds and oceans, soaked summer grass and extracts from extraterrestrial lands. My soul is made of what I am fed and I dare saying, my food is love and hate.