I wish I was a guitar’s string for freely screaming for the pain coming from my undeclared abrasions. Then, my highest note would beg for the unforgivable demons to spare the shelter less self I became under the moonlight. 

   I wish I was the hoarse voice for letting unveiled the bitter sweetness I was poisoned with. Then, my song would not hide the blame I would put on to all of those I already had or will have to say goodbye. 

   I recently understood that raising awareness was never a solution. I’m on the search of a remedy for endings, some imaginary rope coming down from the clouds I could hold on to while contemplating the landscape’s unraveling. 

May 8th. 

Badu resides in my ears and my body is sour from this long-waited training session.  I am clearly lacking motivation for these exams. Though,  everybody in LH’s planet seem to be thinking that I have already everything in control : funny thing is I don’t, or at least don’t feel like it. But y’all go ahead, I’ve seen assumptions taking people far in life. Maybe I should try it myself. Can assuming be the temporal solution for this late night multi-asking ? I’m wondering.  My plate is already full, but ambition keeps on starving me for some more. I assume it gets better with the experience. Isn’t being an adult mostly about having experience ? It’s not like I want to grow old. I wish there were a non aging solution for a more adequate life’s management. I hate the fact that all the opportunities are rushing at my door at the same moment. I’m feeling like a shopaholic during Black Friday. I’m feeling like a kid in Toys R’ Us. I’m feeling like a college student who could’t find time for housekeeping because the rest of the world was calling on her to take part of something. 

   I can’t guarantee I’d always swim whenever you drown. I don’t pretend to always be there. I don’t consider being a friend’s duty to always save your heart from her flames. I am not a life savior. Don’t put the blame on me for not preventing you from hurting. I am not your hero. I can’t heal the pain, especially when you are the one looking for troubles. You can take my advice, but don’t dare asking me more. I am done giving for the hopeless and the attended. Start living on your own. Selfishness can be great when it prevents you from getting caught in ingenuity.

 I was lost in the ins and outs of my universe. And it felt good. It is hard to prevent the bubble from exploding while being inside suffocating and wondering if ever there existed an outside world. Eventually I find myself a suitable exit. I’m saying goodbye and saying hello. Meeting new people, and sadly letting some close friends go. I have find a balance in the unsteadiness of the end of a good time. The curtain is not yet to fall, but I’d rather prevent myself from farewell’s damage.

Waiting on the light that still hasn’t come.

Drawing another list that will never get done.

Listening to a song that’s never been gone.

It is 3 AM again, and I missed my train. There are regrets I am still not ready to take . I am here, watching the upcoming wave of fever and vacillate. I am this giant who overcame high sees but can’t survive lower tides. Yet, whose will is greater than any human’s creativity and nature’s masterpiece. Forget about Himalaya and Burj Khalifa, I’ll reach the sky. Because giving up was never the option. 

Lately I have been like a multifaceted demon stuck in the emotional elevator, maybe a great example of dissociative identity disorder. A little voice popping up from one side of my brain in the early morning taking away my tranquility. Did I ever looked available for being annoyed ? Hello. Can’t I hear myself speaking ? I am tired and sick, of these ravens infiltrating my free space of loneliness. Can’t a child be left alone in its bed crying when all it begged for was tranquility.