Crests and Troughs

Beginnings are either the most alluring experiences or the most unsettling; and behind every beginning there's a decision that have been made consciously as we seek unaccustomed exposures, unfamiliar stages and new encounters. We face new challenges constantly in an attempt to re-architect our lives, to find an escape from the persistent state of dullness, to sense a touch of difference and to experience a rebirth of our rebel souls.

We are all dreamers, some have already achieved what they have been dreaming about, others are going through the tunnel waiting for the light and some of us are still holding a pen and a piece of paper writing down their dreams and their distinct plans for success.

But let me reiterate. It's not all the beginnings that matter, it's the constant will to hold on to the decision you have made, it's all about finding the strength to continue where others have given up, and with every passing hour that you stick to your plan you are making progress, you are achieving something remarkable.

And you have been through failures before, we all did. Things did not work out then because, well, greater things were in the works. It's so difficult sometimes when we are blind and don't know which way is up. But if you have faith in anything, have a faith that the universe has a beautiful way of strengthening things out far better than we ever could. You may not see it today or tomorrow, but you will look back in few years and be absolutely perplexed and awed by how every little thing added up and brought you somewhere wonderful -or where you always wanted to be. You will be grateful that things did not work out the way you wanted them to. You will be delighted that you failed at some point that it led you into something bigger and more rewarding.

Just a reminder in case your brain was playing tricks on you today; remember how far you have come not just how far you have to go, you are not where you want to be yet, neither are you where you used to be. You are making a progress, and good things come to those who wait. There's a difference between knowing the path and walking through it.

Life expands and shrinks on the proportion of your willingness to take risks and try new things; a big bulk of your life is spent making plans, writing down ideas and embracing the future while we often tend to forget that the key to success is the solid determination and refusal to give up.

This is a letter to all those who gave up on themselves at one point; there will be doubters, there will be haters, there will be non-believers and then, there will be you, proving them wrong!

Simply put, there are three rules in life:
1. If you do not go after what you want, you will never have it.
2. If you do not step forward, you will always be in the same place.
3. The moment when you decide to quit, is the moment when you need to pushing yourself.

If there's just one piece of advice I can give you. It's this, when there's something you really want, fight for it, don't give up no matter how hopeless it seems. And when you have lost hope, ask yourself in 10 years from now, you're going to wish you gave it just one more shot, because the best things in life, they don't come free.

Life is full of near misses; maybe love, and almost kisses, reaching close but falling short, broken promises and lost friends breaking apart right near the end, hearts almost loved one time, words that had the chance to rhyme, puzzles pieces scattered far, standards not quite up to par. But in the end, it's up to you, to tie the ends and make it through.

You are not here just to fill space or to be a background character in someone else's movie. Nothing would be the same if you did not exist. Every place you have been and every person you have ever spoken to would be different without you. We are all connected and we are all affected by the decisions and existence of those around us. Know your value!

It's not necessary to prove yourself to anyone. Do your best, that's all you can ask yourself, if you did your best and things did not work out, you don't owe an apology to anyone and you certainly don't need to feel bad about it - or, worse yet, guilty. Stop beating yourself up, you are not the 'villain' here, what happened is what happened, and there's a reason, I promise you.

Walk outside on a clear night and just look up into the sky. Take a moment to realize you are sitting on a planet spinning around in the middle of absolute nowhere. Sometimes it takes a bit of perspective to remember what's really important. You are alive and you are here, you have the potential to be anything. So let go of what's holding you back and dream, believe, breathe.

You have always had the power my dear, you just have to learn it for yourself. Never let your failure get to your heart. In the end we will all become stories, make yours worth reading!

Asterisk

I make myself a freshly prepared cup of coffee every morning, hold it softly in the palms of my hands, hoping it gives me sanity, perspective and the ability to make sense of it all. It's the bitterness of the coffee that I can relate to the most. Another paper cup, another mug, and no matter how much caffeine I pump through my fragile body, I am yet unable to figure it out, that the life I am living is a closed circle of corrupted emotions.

I put on my favorite running shoes, take long walks down the crowded streets of the city with my favorite tunes playing through my ears, another cigarette, another drug running through my veins. I am trembling with anxiety, lost between my past and present, a tangle of emotions, a mess.

I understand now that life is different than what I used to believe, that sometimes all you can do is lie in bed and hope to fall asleep before you fall apart, as for now all I feel is emptiness all around me, surrounding me tightly, and it's so exhausting to feel nothing and everything at the same time. Most of the time I don't know if I should feel happy or sad, I don't know if I feel anything at all.

Everything seems to be exhausting me, no matter how much sleep I have or how much coffee I drink or how long I lie down, something inside me seems to have given up, my soul is tired. And I am not sure whether I was the only one going through all of this, or if I will snap out of this, if I ever will.

I hate days where nothing happens. They end the same way they began; Nothing has changed, nothing exists to be remembered. Your mind feels dry and uninspired, and all of time just feels pointless. A white box on the calendar, there only so you can tick it off.

I need something different, I don't know what it is, but I need something new. I am physically, mentally, and emotionally ready to enter a new phase in my life. I am ready to grow and get better. To simply exist just because one's been born is the sort of notion that I hate. I can't stand it.

It's getting harder to believe in anything now, it's not the type of tired you can sleep away, you wouldn't understand. I exist too much, I feel too much, think too much. Reality is crushing the life out of me.

I have ruined a lot of things lately, and I don't know how to fix them. I don't blame anyone, I did this to myself, it's my fault, everything is.

Pisces

I stay up all night waiting for the sun to rise, so I can climb through the small window in my attic, swaying slightly on my feet in my pajamas, to catch a glimpse of the sunrays, to have a moment of peace. I inhale a fresh breeze of pure summer air and I seize this special hour everyday wholeheartedly. As for a moment, all the accumulated fatigue from my sleepless nights, all my thoughts and my wonders are no longer there.

I have always been infatuated with early mornings when it feels like the rest of the world is still fast asleep and you are the only one who is awake. And everything feels like it is not really real and you kind of forget all your problems because for now, it's just you, the world and the sunrise.
I believe there's a certain power to mornings, an unmatched refreshing source of energy, and I relish those special moments of glory, I savour every second. Because in these hours, everything is different.

My life has became a canvas that everyone gets to paint in but me, and in those mornings is when I have some sort of freedom, an exquisite moment of solitary, a kind of control over my chaotic style of living that I desperately chose, and you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory.

I have learned early in life that people leave and that people like me are meant to be alone. Sometimes I feel that I deserve no one because I am honestly hard to understand and people will always get tired of me and give up. I am a mess, inside out.

I am a walking contradiction; an asshole with a heart of gold. I will show you what love should really look like but make sure to leave before any of it unfolds. I will be demanding attention while keeping at bay. I have my fear of commitment solidly embedded in me.

I am a contradiction, of emotion and impulse, of loneliness and the constant need to be with someone, of holding on and letting go.

I am a paradox. I want to be happy, but I think of things that make me sad. I am lazy, yet ambitious. I don't like myself, but I love who I am. I say I don't care, but I really do. I crave attention, but reject it when it comes my way, I am a hopeless romantic, and a desperate realistic, I want to go out, but prefer to stay in. I feel the need to be bold, but I be shy instead. I try to be confident, but come out weak. I want recognition, but I don't need attention. I like to be alone, but I can't distance myself from people. I am a conflicted contradiction. If I can't figure myself out, there's no way anyone else has.
I am desperately looking for balance in my life, I want to be positive but I am so cynical. I want to find love, but I don't believe in it anymore. I am insecure, but I am strong. I turn my hands into fists, but I am collapsing inside. I am continuously seeking any type of stability, I am waiting for a moment to flourish and turn my life around, but I also want to give up.

The sun is up, it's 7 am. I walk back inside with a head filled with contrasting emotions, I fluff my pillow and I lay my hefty head. I take a deep breath and I close my sleep deprived eyes. I sleep through the day and wait for another sparkle of hope. I wait, for another sunrise.

Sunrise

You come home alone, make yourself some tea, sit down in your armchair, and all around there's silence. Everyone decides for themselves whether that's loneliness or freedom. I never realize how much I like being home unless I have been somewhere really different for a while.

I like being alone, at least I convince myself that I am better off that way, I think it is very healthy to spend time alone. You need to know how to be alone and not be defined by another person. Sometimes when life gets chaotic, you need to be alone, isolated from everyone by choice, a sort of chosen loneliness, and somewhere through it all, you will find yourself.

And today I realized,
that I am the biggest hypocrite of them all.
I tell everyone to keep holding on, that there's a light at the end, that everything gets better as long as you continue to wait.
I always tell people to have hope. that they need to keep trying because it is too early to give up, that they have so much to live for.

Then there is me,
and I am barely holding on.
I was in the darkness, so darkness I became.
It surrounded me beautifully, I have started again and again but I feel like running against the same walls inside my head. The bad things stay with you, you can't escape them, even if you want to.
Sometimes I think I am crazy because I see things differently than everyone else. I am up to my ears in unwritten words, random thoughts racing through my mind, and through it all, I believe that, lost is a wonderful place to find yourself.

When something bothered me, I didn't talk to anyone about it. I thought it all over by myself, came to a conclusion, and took action alone. Not that I felt lonely, I thought that's that's just the way things are. Human beings, in the final analysis, have to survive on their own.

I kind of miss myself, the way I used to be, and sometimes I wonder, am I who I want to be, and I guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons, and maybe we will never know most of them. But even if we don't have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there, we can still do things, and we can try to feel okay about them.

But here I am, trying to think of a million beautiful ways to say that I am lonely, constantly trying to reiterate, but this is not beautiful. This is pain, and suffering, and sadness, and loss. This is loneliness.

And let me tell you about loneliness.

Loneliness is constantly waking up feeling empty, always waiting for something to happen, loneliness is coming home to frozen dinners, a cold bed and long nights filled with contrasting emotions.

And you know what sucks?
Realizing that everything you believe in, is complete and utter bullshit.

Truth it, I am afraid of getting older, I am afraid of getting married, spare me from the relentless cage of routine and rote, I want to be free, I want to be alone.

Tourmaline

I grab a piece of paper, a pen and with trembling fingers I write,
As the ink starts to pour down on the plain white paper,
A paradox of conflicting emotions baffles me,
Has anything I have done made my life better?
I have spent so much time in my head and in my heart that I forgot to live in my body,
And sometimes,
Somewhere through those gloomy nights,
A sudden gush of emotions runs through my veins,
And I question my fragile self,
Who am I?
I sigh.
Is this really how I wanted my life to be, 
Or
Did I lose track?
I feel disconnected from myself,
As if the words I say never live up to the thoughts in my head.
I am constantly trying to explain myself in different sets of words,
And I fell in love with words,
Persistently attempting to place them gently in sentences to create the perfect meanings,
And in case you were wondering,
Yes,
I fail,
I fail every time.
And I am running in circles,
Or is it a figure of 8?
Because every once and while I come across a point where I think I have figured it all out,
only to be lost again.
I don't know,
How can someone be this empty?
Who takes it out of you?
But there is a certain beauty to chaos,
A glimpse of perfection through all the madness,
And a hint of relief through sadness,
Only if you know how to look,
Only if you care enough to know.
And I think..
You don't think about appreciating a moment until it's over,
When you don't have those same feelings you couldn't quite distinguish,
or recognize before.
Sometimes it's years after it has happened,
Sometimes it's just a few moments before it ends.
That feeling you're feeling,
It's called nostalgia.
It's what make us human;
To be able to look back at a specific period of time,
and recognize the unbelievable amount of value a specific event had.
and I am nostalgic,
I miss all those days when things were different than how they are today,
When life wasn't complicated,
When..uh..
Everything was simple,
And I..
I was happy,
I was happy then...
The human body is a magnificent machine;
It has tremendous levels of endurance and unmatched stamina,
We can go through rivers and their turbulent rapids,
Climb mountains that are hundreds of meters high,
We are pretty much strong aren't we?
Theoretically yes,
Except that,
Every species has their weaknesses,
And ours,
Is the heart.
We often feel too much,
Or nothing at all.
There's no in between;
If you are cold,
you hurt people.
If you are sensitive,
they hurt you.
And I am tired of all of this.
I thought I just needed a night's sleep, but it's more than that.
And believe me,
Life isn't always what it seems,
And you don't know what people are going through.
My daily routine is...
I still find each day too short for all the thoughts I want to think,
All the walks I want to take,
All the songs I want to hear,
And all the friends I want to see.
I think we tend to write because it's rare that we're listened to,
Maybe somewhere between these lines,
I can be understood the way I want to be.
I have never known what I wanted from life,
and I often drive myself crazy,
I have never found a place where I belong,

How is it possible for the world to be so beautiful and so cruel at the same time?

I shake my head in disbelief.
And as we continue to destroy each other's lives,
The universe looks and weeps,
And I do all these things for other people,
and then I wake up and I am empty,
I have nothing.
I don't know what it is that has got me so beautifully blind,
It feels like I am constantly being haunted by all the people I let down,
by letting myself down.
Everything alters me, but nothing changes me.
I am..
I am a tangled tale which is yet to be told,
I am lonely more than you can ever imagine,
The worst part about being lonely is when you are around people,
In a room full of people,
parts of you still feel missing.
You feel like there's a black hole in your chest that's going to rip you apart.
You feel weak
I take a deep breath,
Inhale, Exhale.
Listening to the sound of my heartbeat,
It's so calm and terrifying at the same time.
In that exact moment,
just for one minute,
I feel fine,
and I close my eyes,
I am alone again,
Sitting silently,
The breeze hounds at my window,
and rattles wooden frames,
I am paralyzed,
by the heaviness on my heart,
but despite all what has been said and done,
I will believe that..
I will believe that in me exists the strength to move.

Twenty Three Candles

I take much pleasure in being alone, accompanied by the dispelling shadows of a dusty old table lamp, a sempiternal plot, but even as a sentient soul I had felt fear, and I could tell you everything and you would still not know the real me.

Am I lonely because no one cares, or am I lonely because I am not strong enough to let anyone get close enough to care?
But somewhere through the serenity of my loneliness and the constant noise of my life, a vociferous manner of expression comes to life and a piece of paper and a pen are the sole home where those words can live.

And I write... I write to be heard. Because when the ink fills the paper, the words etch into my heart, just as I wish they would into yours.
And to live in fear is to die each day. Never have I dealt with anything more difficult than my soul. I could not see the point of getting up, I had nothing to look forward to, maybe sometimes it is easier to fight for others than to fight for yourself.

I have found that growing up means being honest; about what I want, what I need, what I feel and who I am.
What would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything?
And I hope...
And I hope one day, while you are all by yourself, these good memories will float back to you when you are feeling down and maybe you might know that I did everything I could for you. That love cannot be bought or created like that, it happens because it happens.

Everything just feels temporarily, I was pretty used to writing poems for you with a permanent marker and I wasn't afraid, but nowadays I write everything with a pencil and an eraser in my hand, as I question every sentence I write, and I think I am sorry for immortalizing you with my poems, but if I a poem hasn't ripped your soul apart, then you haven't experienced poetry.

And I never change; I simply become more myself, and I am in a constant journey to find the state of tranquility, to find the peace of mind. I was looking for myself and asking everyone except myself questions which I, and only I, can answer.

I wanted to be alone, but I also wanted to be loved, I have filled pages and pages of things that I wrote, and most of them were about you, I think we don't pick who we fall in love with, and it never happens like it should, it never happens like it should...

I miss something but I do not know what it is, but I know that I want it back, and maybe it is being close to you. What I want is for the two of us to meet somewhere by chance one day, like passing on the street, or getting in the same bus, to talk for few moments, I know you will never be mine, but I hope years from now we will still be in each others life, you have no idea what a charming memory you are to me.

Which is the hardest loss to mourn, someone you never knew, someone who passed away or somehow who is still alive?
I am mourning the loss of a friend who still stands in front of me, because I can see the door she will take to leave my life, and it's near.

Nothing is worthless, some are worth the fight, the others are worth to keep, and the rest, are worth to let go.

There are different types of art, but turning people into poetry is my favorite. I wanted it to be you, I wanted it to be you so badly. You weren't mine; but every night I dreamed you were mine, and that was enough for me.

I would like to explode, flow, crumble into dust, and my disintegration would be my masterpiece. I believed I wanted to be a poet, but deep inside I just wanted to be a poem.
Maybe we will meet again, when we are slightly older and our minds less hectic, and I will be right for you and you will be right for me. But right now, I am chaos to your thoughts and you are poison to my heart.

But until you heal the wounds of the past, you are going to bleed. You can bandage the bleeding with food, distractions or with work; but eventually it will all ooze through and stain your life. You must find the strength to open the wounds, stick your hands inside, pull out the core of the pain that's holding you in your past, the memories, and make peace with them.

But until then, you are a star yet to shine and I am an insentient monster.
I think I am going to stop writing; to free myself for a moment from my emotions, to try and collect my thoughts, to put back the pieces to where they fit.

And I...
I am forever grateful that you exist, even though you will never be mine.

Sidewalks

This is an apology letter to the both of us for how long it took me to let things go,
I am sorry.
I am sorry you were not truly loved and that it made you cruel.
And of course, you are going to say you are happy now,
and draw a wide fake smile on your face,
But every time I look into your eyes,
I could tell that you were hurt,
that I broke you.
And lately,
I am wondering,
Who will be there to take my place?
I hate how I couldn't stop imagining you in everybody I tried to love after you had left,
I am a discarded unfinished book,
looking for someone to create chaotic memories with to help write the climax to my story.
I often look at the people holding hands in the hallways and I try to think how it all works out,
While I either fall in love too quick,
or I do not feel anything at all.
I am not used to being loved,
And sometimes I still catch myself feeling sad at things that do not matter anymore.
I abandoned logic to maintain sanity,

You were not making any sense,

yet I was trying to understand.

But I,

I have always wanted you,

I shared my deepest thoughts with you at 3 in the morning,

you were the only person to completely understand me,

to accept my flaws as they were,

to love me,

You gave me hope that I can be loved,

You teached me a lot,

But as soon as I started to feel something for you,

you said it was time for you to leave.

You said you knew this day will come eventually,

but you didn't want to believe it.

And now that day is here,

you have to go.

And I am too angry to give you the goodbye hug you're asking for,

because it's too painful to let go,

I see the tears pouring down from these hazel eyes and I know,

I know that I am being harsh,

but you did this to us,

you did this to yourself.

And now,

you have to leave.

The most painful goodbyes are the ones that are never said and never explained,

I can't even explain how I feel anymore,

My thoughts are so messed up in my head,

In my heart I love you all the time.

And I sit alone and watch the clock,

trying to collect my thoughts,

yet all I think about is you.

In those days that I live through,

I can't control what stays and what fades away,

And I never have the things to say,

to make it all just go away,

to make it all disappear.

You are always there,

in every person I meet,

in every conversation I have,

you are in it somehow,

Maybe because we talked about all the subjects this world has to offer,

so whenever one of these topics is talked about,

I remember you,

and your opinion in that matter,

and I smile.

I guess at one point of our lives we would realize that we were perfect for each other,

we would realize that we should have fought for this.

Yet,

nothing of all that matters now.

And I am here now,

It's 11 pm,

sitting on a burnt-brown wooden disk,

A cigar in my hand,

some Jazz music playing in the background,

as I try to compile a list of adjectives to describe you,

I still fail every time to properly describe your genuine beauty,

and I tear those pages apart,

I close my eyes,

And I wonder,

Maybe sometimes I cross your mind as you cross mine.

Butterfly

It's your birthday,
Please accept my apologies,
I couldn't make it this year.
I..
I have been too busy looking after myself,
I forgot how much you mean to me,
Until it was too late.
And now,
I live in another dimension,
Walking down those gloomy corridors,
An air of melancholy filled those vacant halls,
A state of vacivity,
Occupied with thick layers of dust over the edges of these obsidian windows.
It's all black and white,
Charcoal and Ivory,
An alluring mixture creating beautifully irregular streaks through the marble of our bedroom floor.
We emotionally manipulated each other until we thought it was love,
And at that point it was too late to put an end to this constant illusion,
And return to a sense of tranquility.
And now I..
I am living in a persistent state of delirium,
You intoxicated me,
It was just like you made me love you by some force,
And your head was occupied with alarming questions,
While mine was preoccupied with deranged thoughts.
I was not enough.
You taught me how to be alone,
And I have learned my lesson in your absence.
But each night,
Everything cuts a little deeper,
And all those words we have said to each other haunt me,
A transient state of veracity,
Does it count if you were happy in a dream,
Or am I in love with impossibility?
You were always a difficult person to understand but never to love,
And no one said that you must stop loving someone once they leave,
You left me,
Like there was no reason to stay,
And I loved you even more.
And I...
I have found comfort in sorrow,
I couldn't find anything to alleviate this pain,
Nothing to soothe my nerves,
I will never be able to find myself,
As long as I am lost in you.
And each year,
Between the frost of the winter,
And the vernal sunshine,
Comes one day of particular significance,
This time last year we were sitting under the shade of that oak tree,
We used to call it our spot,
It was where we used to escape from our stubborn parents and have a moment for ourselves,
Our sweet escape.
I was in the middle of an ocean,
An ocean of doubts, flaws and imperfections,
Then you came along,
And all of a sudden I knew how to swim,
But then you left,
And I realized you have been holding me the whole time,
No I am six feet under,
Covered in guilt and self neglect,
Erased,
But I will always remember this special day,
And I am sorry I couldn't be where you currently are,
And I apologize for the long message,
I think..
All I wanted to say is that,
On your special day,
I hope this wonderful day will fill up your heart with blessings.
I think about this every year,
So I pick up a pen,
And I write,
'Happy Birthday,
I love you'.
And I place this letter gently above its similar but older messages,
In a dusty hazel brown box I have made of perfectly cut pieces of that oak tree,
Covered in excelsior,
Rested under my bed,
It is where my dreams come to life,
Where my memories set,
It is where you are,
It is where we left.
So..
I think..
I think It won't be any different this year,
Happy Birthday...
I love you.

Emerald

First page,

With a black pen in my hand,

I write some words down clumsily,

The words were soft and mellow,

And then turned into anger.

I couldn't stop,

Thought after thought,

I constantly felt that I am missing something,

But I never knew exactly out what it is.

A set of paints,

A certain pallette of colors,

All too poor,

To create the perfect picture of what was in my mind.

My body is a garden,

From bone and up,

Full of beauty and grace,

Yet so plain,

Compared to the memories,

I have sworn to never speak of again.

I am aware that,

I am less than what people prefer me to be,

But most people are unaware that,

I am so much more than what they see.

I have learned more about myself in solitude,

I have both driven myself crazy and found peace,

I love who I have been,

But I really love who I am becoming.

I no longer search,

The things that are meant for me will always flow to me,

"You attract what you are ready for",

I will just let things play out,

What's supposed to happen eventually will.

I am human,

I make mistakes,

I have weaknesses,

Study me as much as you like,

You will never understand me completely,

I differ in a hundred ways from what you see me to be,

I have chosen to be in a place where you can't see me.

I am not used to be loved,

I do not know what to do,

I feel a lot,

Like I ought to be feeling something I shouldn't,

I have always loved too much,

or not enough,

To love me is to love a haunted house.

It seemed that you knew me,

Like you understood anything that I have told you,

But the more we spoke,

The more I realized,

How different we were,

Or maybe I just thought you were different,

Silly me.

I have spent my life learning to feel less,

Learning not to hold onto something,

That I would expect nothing at all.

I regret that it takes a life to understand love,

I want to be loved and left alone.

I don't think that people understand the fact that life doesn't make sense,

I think it haunts people,

The fact that they can never figure things out.

An aeviternal situation,

A dilemma,

A puzzle missing out vital pieces,

A mesmerizing fuliginous painting,

A delusion,

Packed thoughts one over another,

Yet,

It could never sharpen the image I had in my mind.

A thought of idle desire,

A reverie,

I cannot know who I am,

Because I do not know which part of me is not me.

My mind is occupied by tenuous spiral stairs,

They lead to indistinct areas of my dispersed character,

It is where I have hidden all my secrets,

It is where I belong.

It has always been this way,

After I opened myself to someone,

I needed some time,

to restore my sense of privacy,

I have found it necessary to remain silent,

To not let anyone in.

I have found peace in writing some of what is going inside of me,

I have locked myself in an oblivion,

Going through the same emotions,

Going through us.

I take another sip of my coffee which turned cold,

And I sigh,

As I write the last page,

Last page,

I feel like I am missing something,

But I never know exactly out what it is.

House of Balloons

I encounter millions of bodies in my life,

Of these millions,

I may desire hundreds,

But of these hundreds,

I love only one,

I spend most nights at home falling in love with the idea of you,

I hope you won't be temporary,

I never expected you,

Sometimes people sneak up on you,

And suddenly,

You don't know how you ever lived without them,

We had everything to say to each other,

But no ways to say it,

You're within me;

In every thought,

In every word,

In every act,

We are connected,

And I like you;

Your eyes are full of language,

Tell me every terrible thing you have done,

And let me love you anyway,

But I..

I am a collection of dismantled almosts,

And..

That's how it is when a person develops an attraction towards someone,

You are nowhere,

But suddenly you are everywhere,

Whether I want you to be or not,

And I don't know,

You have lived on broken hearts all your life,

And I wonder,

If you notice me at all,

Or If the thought of us comes up to your mind as it does to mine,

It seems that,

The more time and distance you put in between us,

The larger you grow in my heart,

And I yearn for the day that I wake up next to you,

Have coffee in the morning as we discuss our plans together,

And wander through the city with your hand in mine,

I want love around me and in me at all times,

I...

I would choose five minutes with you,

Over a lifetime with anyone else,

I wonder how many people do not get the one they want,

But end up with the one they're supposed to be with,

And I..

I've learned to cope by spilling these words on paper,

Hoping one day,

Somewhere on the page,

Among these irrational thoughts and feelings,

We would be together,

But I..

I still search for you between all these crowds,

On all these roads and wishing stars,

Neither one of us knows what might happen tomorrow,

Yet we move forwards,

Carrying blind hopes in these tormented hearts of ours,

A vain attempt to make us feel better,

But there's something about you,

You always wore black,

But you have the most colorful mind,

You were most beautiful,

Whenever you are most comfortable,

Whenever you are most,

You,

And sometimes,

I have kept my feelings to myself,

Because I just couldn't find the language to describe them in,

And I have loved you with all my damaged heart,

But you..

You were so distant,

Sometimes I forgot you were there at all,

And I am on the outside,

Looking at you,

And a man so painfully in love,

Is capable of self-torture beyond belief,

Love is an untamed force,

It cannot be controlled,

And I...

I keep finding myself in the wrong story,

I am writing a chapter I would never read out loud,

I don't even fit here,

So why go and pretend like I do?

Let it hurt,

Let it bleed,

Let it heal,

And let it go,

And I hope...

I hope you will find someone who would know how to love you when you are sad,

When you have had enough of everyone around,

I hope he knows how to comfort you,

And make you feel better,

When all the world have stood against you,

I wish he will always be by your side,

And I hope...

I hope he loves you like I do,

I sigh..

And I...

I wish you remember me,

As if you remember me,

Then I do not care if everyone else forgets,

I...

I would have offered you the world,

But you said that you had your own,

And I..

I still think about you,

But I don't say it anymore.

Keith

I was 15 years old... I still remember these empty streets where I used to drive my father's car along, I did not have a driving license then, but the thrill of the experience was more satisfying than whatever trouble I would have gotten into, I remember I used to count the street lights so that I do not drive to a point that I cannot find the way home from, I knew where all the street signs were. I had no friends, but I enjoyed my own company. I remember how the loud sound of the truck's diesel engine would always intervene with the beauty of music I have constantly played. I never had a destination to go, I only had one thing in my mind, to run away from where I was, to be at somewhere new. Sometimes I used to take a wrong turn on purpose in an attempt to find a place no one else knew, I used to lie to my father so I can have his truck and go on a mission of endless exploration.

I haven’t forgotten, I still remember all the little things, I used to stare at the 'big yellow sun' setting over the crystal clear lake slowly, it was such a beautiful scene to watch, I remember all the times I sat down by that lake, thinking about all the things I wanted to become, all the dreams I wanted to achieve –and I still haven't. I used to gather all the different types of rocks, I arranged them in circles and created imaginary scenarios and stories, I knew it did not make sense but it was a way of me to communicate, they were the closest I had to friends...

I had this habit, I collected the tree leaves in Autumn and I put them in a small agenda my father gave me, I never knew why I actually did that, I have never been enrolled in a school, as we didn't have one, I had a lot of time to think about all the different things this life has to offer, I thought I can figure out everything on my own, I thought I was different than other boys in my town; It was a small land, I knew everyone and everyone knew me. Everyone spent most of their nights at a small pub where my uncle used to work, I spent some time there working in the kitchen; washing the beer pitchers and cocktail glasses, not really the type of life I have been looking forwards to, I did not want to grow up here and become just like everybody else, I wanted to achieve something for myself, my family and my town; Something everyone would have been proud of, something different, but most importantly, I did not want to stay here, I had this constant urge to escape, I felt like I have been locked in forever…

I am a grown man now, I am no longer that clumsy shy boy, a part of me still is, but I would like to believe that I have changed, but deep inside I know I have not, I moved out of my town even though everyone back home wanted me to stay, I just needed to go through new experiences, I convinced myself that I was in a place where I cannot make a progress, I decided to move out, to carve a new path for myself. I moved to the city, there aren't any lakes here or long country lanes, it’s different here, I have always heard people saying that there's no place like home but I have never believed it, until I realized that it's not about the land itself, it's the people that make a place more special, and I admit, I miss my family, I miss my little humble town, these people raised me and I have this constant thought of going back home...

I heard stories of other boys of my same age and where they are now, one is barely getting by, one is already on the second wife and one is still working at his father's store. I am not sure if where I stand is better than them or worse, I am not sure if this is what I have been looking forward to, I am discovering something new every single day, I am discovering myself. I took a different path than everyone else, I currently own a small bakery in the city, it does not really yield a lot of money, but I have my clients and I am pleased with what I do...

I still drive my father's yellow Ford truck that I inherited after he passed away a year after I moved out – it was the worst time of my life, I have managed to do some repairs to the engine and it still runs like a brand-new vehicle. Sometimes, I still go on small drives down the busy city streets looking for somewhere calm and quiet, looking for somewhere where I can find some peace of mind…

I ignite the engine of my father’s truck, driving through these boring streets, they all look the same. I have been driving for an hour now, it’s dark outside now, I do not know where I am now, I think I took a wrong turn, I do not know anymore, I decide to stop at the side of the road for few minutes, I lay my fatigued body horizontally over the torn leather seats of the truck and I close my eyes in an attempt to rest my intoxicated body...

I wake up to the sound of a bird chirping by the windshield, the sun has already risen, it’s the end of the Winter season, I am tired, it's Sunday, I have to make it back to the city tonight so I can open my shop tomorrow, it's the start of a new semester for the students now, the employees are coming back from their vacations now too, it's a new year already, it has been 10 years since I have last visited my old town. I sigh, I never thought that I would last this long, I wonder who are still there and who have already passed away, I do not really believe I have properly settled here in the city, there has always been something that is missing, I think I am naturally connected to my roots, to where I came from, it's who I am....

It has been a ride, ups and downs, straight roads and curvy turns, brown dried maple leaves and small little rocks. I think I have the better cut now, but honestly, it was all about those details that actually add value to your life, those little things. I think I do not belong here, I wonder if I ever will... So here I am, but what's the rush? I am here in a yellow truck, a long road ahead of me and nothing but opportunities.