Signs

If the sleepless nights breed doubts, make me crumble, make me rot — dragging me back and forth in endless tides — And out there, a spiral of weakness devours the blind, all marching to the drumbeat of failure — If every hollow night fills me with a hollow hope — to leave, to appear elsewhere — and if nothing binds me anymore, if nothing even whispers anymore, then whatever I accept, whatever I believe, is already dead.

I wash my face, my soul, my battered back, worn from invisible wounds, from relentless shaking. I kill the light, stare into my own face without a mask, and from that broken reflection, endless doors crack open.

Mirrors of what I hate. Endless corridors. And with every sleepless night, I glimpse another death.

I lock myself down. I release myself. I breathe — a hollow relief. I scream, I scream, I scream — but who cares? I stitch myself together with empty words, follow footprints I carved into the dirt with bloodied hands.

I sprinkled colorful confetti over my own ruins — I don’t stray, I don’t stumble, I don’t sow different seeds — just a diseased, poisoned smile. All that’s left is to drift silently — a ghost, moving forward, moving forward, moving forward. If I feel the chaos clawing at me, dragging me down the slope — watch the turbulence rip me apart: a mind in shreds, a storm of broken words, a fear too real to hide.

Out there, the sun rises for everyone else. The world wakes up. And you — where did you go? Why? For whom? Your mother is gone. Your father too. The friends you once knew crumbled to dust, grain by grain.

I feel the pain, I feel the bloom of something rotten, I feel resentment clawing its way out with no shame left. Guilty of every act. And guilty just for being.

If I suffer, it’s in silence — and it doesn’t matter. It never did. The world twists into something unrecognizable, and I keep walking through it, uninvited. If I could choose, I would have done the same — different from what I am, but condemned just the same.

If I ever tried to stop, I wouldn’t even come close to touching happiness or love. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

But somehow, I will know where to end up.

Popular posts from this blog

Painless

In the end, no one will ever understand — and honestly, they don’t need to. If you can’t understand yourself, why the hell would anyone else? The answers you’re looking for are yours alone. People ask questions without wanting the truth. It’s just intellectual sarcasm. “I miss you. How are you?” You don’t actually want to know, brother. You don’t fucking care. Everyone is armed to the teeth, ready to tell you what’s “right,” ready to crucify you. And if you regret something, tears don’t buy forgiveness. They point fingers — “I hope you learn from this.” I’m halfway through my life; I don’t need to “learn” anything from someone who decides to kick me in the back. I need to strike back and show you that you didn’t win. But then what? No one wins, no one loses. I believe what I say because I say what I believe. People want reactions, signs, clues, reasons. Reasons drown my soul — do you see that? No. Impossible. So don’t go searching for what you’re not capable of accepting. ...
Read more

Yesterday, I died.

I miss nothing. No one. Longing is translucent—I ask myself where it went, how it would ever fill my chest if it still existed. Yesterday I died, and what remains is a void: no touch, no scent, no color, no glow. Only silence. I miss nothing. No one. They were all there. Every one of them. And from above I watched their souls, their smiles, from a plane stitched into reality itself. That was where I stood. Those people had never seen each other, never spoken, never existed to one another before the moment I bound them together. I connected life to life, turned strangers into acquaintances, acquaintances into friends, friends into family. I miss nothing. No one. Yet like an old film reel, life runs through my eyes, carrying memories of something that may have existed only for me. Where would they be if not there? I laid every stone of that path. Today, I no longer know how to walk it back—nor return to it at all. I miss nothing. No one. I watched as if they were all celebrating th...
Read more

If She Had Lived…

I would have been nothing more  than an invisible name… a shadow… walking behind real greatness.  Hers. The one with the soul untouched by dirt,  with eyes as clear as rivers,  with hair that burned like the sun itself. Because she had no limits. And what I see today —  what others dare to call beautiful — is nothing but leftovers… compared to her. Back then…  I burned with envy.  I bruised her skin,  desperate to find a flaw,  desperate to see something human.  But nothing ever could. Her days here…  they were sovereign. From the beauty that stunned crowds,  to her childish little storms — everything about her was alive. And I was there — one of her nameless supporters. Proud. Willingly forgotten. And now I finally understand…  what it meant to simply exist inside a life that shone. If Angels could not die,  if they were chained to us forever,  they would not bring us peace.  They would not come to...
Read more