If I die...

I have no regrets.

Today I gave a little bit of me away.

It was a prick, then a jab, just like that and I'm in a pack. Liquid. Red. Fresh. Warm. What we are all made up of. I feel lighter and a sudden burst of meaning floods my senses. To live is to give, and we will never stop giving ourselves away.

I hope that this pack will be usable and helpful to the anonymous recipient. Funny, I think it will contribute more intimately than I could. Who ever you are... Be bless.

Rain. Pours and cleans. Runs sheets of water across where you have been.

Failure reiterates that you will have to use it to make your next work more spectacular. Individuality at its best without the weight of others incompetence. You use to think that the mind gets broader but recently with your lack of words made you doubt.

Listening again on old tracks, brings back faces and all the foolish thoughts and experiments. I knew the disasters and how fleeting it will all be. So that I could write. I tested theories. Of thinking and not feeling. The unturned stones. The forest and the uncut trees. The phenomenon minimal days out of the three-hundred-sixty-five.

It will be just as quiet when I leave. 

As it was when I first got here. 

I don't expect anything.

You didn't chose. It just happened. You can't push nor deny this. The future would not have the chance to write itself out now as it is.

So keep walking and leave it to the Gods.

Castles of papers surrounds me. Anxiously waiting for me to run my eyes and hands through them. It is safe here. Behind words and ridiculous thoughts that I can experiment with on this platform without resonance despite the cacophony within. Characters could be created or slain, at the mercy of my whimsical fancy and judgement. I will not be removed from here.

Fiercely she writes about the corporate giant with their pages of self righteous gibberish...

Don't we all just like to deny what we really want and feel. Being practical or delusional?

There's this one place you return to where you would feel that short dose of absolute peace. It has an immediate calming effect. Letting it take over and within that few seconds... maybe just maybe heal your wounds. Probably it is your only way of apologizing for what you could not do, fulfill, or commit. Somehow just being there, standing there made you feel a part of it all over again. An escape from your reality. You step out slightly refreshed ready to take on the world and it's unexpected blows again.

Threads. Fine thin alignments. Counting down the days.

Life is made up of those moments where you took control and decided, to take that plunge. As you breathe in the first release of pure adrenaline, you know you got it right and good. Makes you feel like a rock star doing a body surf.

Hello... First October.

Would she remember me?

The best part about acting? You become anybody.

Started out thinking that the number of words required would be too much to cover. But then when you realize your only left with twenty three you are amazed... How did that happen?

I've searched everywhere and realized that they have ceased its production. There goes another thing I like. Everything you liked, made, to be replaced.

一个人，不可能。

一个人我在沮丧
一个人走在路上
泪流下那么荒唐
分手当初是我在逞强
一个人对谁嚣张
一个人为谁而忙
我懂了你没反抗
是因为我不够坚强
只是我一个人 一个人不可能
不可能有多快乐我承认
从前是两个人 两个人多认真
一年后却像两个陌生人
只是我一个人 一个人不可能
不可能有多快乐我承认
想回到两个人 认真的两个人
一个人没有方向
一个人闷得发慌
谁懂得我的疯狂
谁会一直在我的身旁
一个人该怎么样
一个人一个人唱
天冷了你还好吗
明天是不是会晴朗
只是我一个人 一个人不可能
从前是两个人 两个人多认真
不可能有多快乐我承认
一年后却像两个陌生人
只是我一个人 一个人不可能
不可能有多快乐我承认
想回到两个人 认真的两个人
一个人 一个人不可能
不可能有多快乐多温热
再习惯一个人 一个人再认真
认真也不能让幸福成真
一个人一个人不可能
不可能有两个人的灵魂
等待另一个人 爱的另一个人

Have you said it today?

I miss you.
I love you.
I remember you.
I think of you.

All within a second, this opportunity may never come your way again.

Have you said it?

Walked away from the tree... Stepping on dried leaves disappearing under my feet.

Restrained to refresh. Contemplating for the insights to those thoughts. Have they noticed the sudden surge in statistics fired up with desperate encryptions.

A little less. It was pouring today.

Sometimes.

Silence is not silent. What are we keeping out with all these controls.

It's been seven years writing here.Today I picture my tranquil self lying in a coffin ready for its cremation. What will be of this page. Will I be remembered for who I really am and how I have treated all those that have crossed my path. Would they know what I was trying to narrate.

The difficulty in emotions is honesty. Even now. My hands are tied and my mouth gagged. Writing helps me forget yet remember the delicate scars as I fumble around the pages. What is it am I searching for. Will we get the answer?