A person’s description can be described by its habits, its appearance, its personality. Many are the traits we gather through time and many are the experiences we collect to become a certain vessel of our self. Picture it as going to the theater and watching a show to discover new things in the same show. Observing the very well-known characters as if you were seeking to discover something new or different from your previous views. Only to realize that they were part of the persona all along. Were they were ignored, overlooked or undervalued by the expectations of what you wished to see? Were they neglected by the self projection of a fantasy?

Have we missed something important that we might have cared about before?

Every heartbeat comes one after the other for the sole purpose of satisfying a hunger of many values. Is this an emotion you seek? Is this an element you need? Is this a piece of essence that you sate on? Does this really fill the void you so require to stuff with whatever you can gather?

It does help. At first.

We are like animals. Feasting and consuming anything we can. Hoarding or scavenging piles of dust to attach ourselves to. We unlock a part of ourselves, a window to our visage. Slowly opening the lid of a shell and accepting a new gift with open arms. With no clue or care for the consequences. Just this singular objective of suppressing the starvation.

Until… you feel nothing. Calm and in content. Free from the hankering thirst.

That is when the curtains drop.

The end of the show.

While basking in it. I start to hear whispers of reality getting louder and they drag me back to the theater seat. Silhouettes of people reappearing in the nearby empty seats. The vision of tranquility that was once constructed is crumbling and fading away into what we so call reality. I try to reach for something to grab on and lift myself up. But the pain in my arms are unable to answer. I still get up and start to exit the room to a silent crowded street. People are flowing in different directions, some go along together making faces and grins to each other as they move their limbs without trouble. The dampening silence that was once present is letting their whispers speak volumes. Conversations and emotions are shared throughout this amalgamation of beings. They seem to have either forgotten what they are or ignoring the fact that ‘it’ is still part of them…

“No matter”

The hunger, has returned.

What was the point of it? My mind cannot comprehend the vanishing feeling of stillness that leaves its place to dissension and agony. Is everyone around me failing to see how it burns? Or have they found a way to replace these disorders with illusions of their own craft? It now seems absurd to go through all the trouble of masking and hiding the evidences that makes you alive.

Either way your excuses will sound something along the lines of “it is about survival.”

… And I do not care any longer.

I laugh in woe at them.


Scarring our Life.

We all share a common primitive language that is driven by our feelings and we believe that we are entitled to them like it is our birthright. In some sense, we are. But how right is it that a feeling is strong enough to compel us to subjugate anyone or everyone to it? I guess that is an open debate.

I often forget how much influence our memories can have, impacting our self. It usually doesn’t take much: a simple word, an image or anything that overloads your senses and BOOM! I now go down a memory lane I thought gone. I now flashback to a nice recollection of ruined memories. And the worse part is that this spark that sets off will most likely try to hinder me every time I try to accomplish or experience something.

Maybe, ‘The Joker’ was right:
“You of all people should know, there’s nothing so cruel as memory…. the pointy biting little thunderbolts, unwanted party crashers, SCREAMERS through your synapses.. inescapable, unrelenting…. not at all friendly. You can’t even escape into MADNESS!”

Or maybe it’s just about how I walk on a line that gets thinner as I walk on it. And the fall would lead me down to gaze at nothing. Would that still be me?

Every step is like a new puzzle. A challenge that blurs the path I walk on. As I stay still and thinking about stepping forward, I see what I walk to and what I leave behind. And it is a battle of keeping me still on this line.

But you know what? It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter to you or to anyone else in this world but a few who really care. Because you’ve got your own ‘line’ to walk on. And it gives you the privilege of ignoring, not caring and not even considering the fact that the path you try to walk on could potentially cut off some paths or even lead to destroying others. How convenient.

I can understand and accept that everyone is entitled to put themselves above everything else. It is just fair to look after yourself. Anyone would do the same.

Conflict does not form itself through diversity. It grows through the intolerance of that diversity. Denying others from what they are or impeding their progression. It then proceeds to evolve into a much more realistic issue. Some will struggle and some will strive to go forward. But that conflict has marked them for life. Like a stone with fissures.

There is no cure and no fixing to the consequences of conflicts as they get engraved. And some are now carrying rubbles. Was it really their own fault and mistake that brought them their own misery? Perhaps.

Trying to preserve what is left of yourself is not an easy battle. Sometimes it feels like sitting in a dark room with a spotlight directed at you, burning your eyes and your skin. Or having some ghastly tortured bodiless versions of yourself trying to tear themselves out of your head and limbs as if they were unwillingly trapped inside you. Or hearing a constant anguishing scream howling through your mind although there is no sound around you. This is somewhat how it feels like to be on the verge of insanity.

Keeping it together in this chaos usually relies on asking yourself just a single question:

“What are you going to do about it? Your time and those of others depend on that answer.”

Fear will catch on to you.

Aside from Memory

Many are the things we collect with time. Some are objects. Some others are connections. You carry them with you without having to lift them. They are like words, colors, sounds in your inner senses. Such a precious and fragile thing they are. They are the reflection of who you have been and what you are going through. But this realm has its own laws and lets say that their limits are your capabilities of constructing a thought. What they are is purely ethereal. They are like past ghosts of yourself wandering around the corridors of animated paintings on the wall. This labyrinth that defies the laws of physics is holding your life in a network of a chaotic maze. Every room is shaped differently than the previous and it doesn’t seem to follow any logic of order.

But it has no impact howsoever to the real world but to yourself. It’s a mental clockwork that builds itself on it.

These corridors of the self past gives life and form to your reflections. Even as ephemeral as they can be, their impact is quite as strong as an idea in your mind. It never goes away unless you manage to accept or prove that the idea is wrong.

But what happens to those who never get a chance to disprove themselves? Especially to the ones that triggers the clockwork in the opposite way. Are they condemned to haunt these immaterial structures so that they can ruin the construction of this palace of mirrors?

“So what? You’re letting the clockwork go back and forth eternally? As if you had no power to dismantle it and rebuild it. You made this place!”

That’s where we’re wrong about. This ‘place’ is not something built by someone. It is built by the many lives we share ours with and the thoughts we gather in that moment. Not everyone controls all these things. Some are even addicted to have the presence of others praise to them.

“You’re blaming the existence of others to justify a defect… in your construction?”

Short answer: no. But I can’t say that my construction has come to life without them. I don’t hold them responsible but they are concerned.

“I’m not sure I follow. We’re talking about your…
… how do others really affect or change what really happened?”

Because it doesn’t matter…

And that is the whole point.

Will any of these creatures living in ‘it’ accept this fact?

Shapes and Shifts

In dreams and land of imagination everything is volatile. Nothing is concrete. But these ideas have real value to ourselves. They affect us in many ways about how our future days can go. This very realm of thought creates hopes, wishes, belief, distraction, anxiety, and the list goes on. A recurrent thought that runs through our veins like a toxic ichor is Fear. It changes us in that particular moment. We all react differently to it. It is our biggest enemy and it tests our will to live through it. The choices we make out of it are not always in our best interests. We make mistakes and we give in.

Nonetheless it is something that makes us who we are, Human.

Our irrational minds overrides our self-control and pushes us to do things we can regret. It breaks us in so many ways. Until we patiently wait to be reforged. It is an explosion of our own nightmares that rushes through our body. It tears down every piece of what we value. We cannot escape it. We cannot ignore it. We cannot allow it to gain on us.

Yet some of us fail at being…

This powerful illusion is one of the sources of our weaknesses that we hate to admit. Unwillingly we become the servant of injustice and evil. Every choice we make out of this scars everyone around us and ourselves. It is like a disease that spreads rapidly and nobody can protect itself from it. Some of us will be permanently wounded and dragged into the abyss by it. Some of us will live with it through the rest of their lives. Most of us ignore that it lives among us like a silent hunter chasing after the weak and defenseless. And we let it happen.

It eats on us like we’ve been deteriorated by a plague and makes us suffer through it.

The values you can grab out of pain are a lot more fruitful than what you can accomplish with ease. Because they meant something to you or because you now have learned something new out of it. “No pain, no gain”.
You can hardly forget something that caused you harm or trouble in your life. Because it tested your way of perceiving things and how you understood them and how you dealt with them. These questions you never thought of asking yourself are concealed, like a monster hiding your bed, until it found an opportunity to strike at your very moment of weakness. There is no right or wrong answer. But each of those will affect how the world around will react to you.

It is just a Nightmare.

Call me crazy, but we all construct things in this world that comes out of our dreams. Wishes or hopes that we would like to see come to life in this world. What evidence do we have that some of us do not mistake those dreams with nightmares? How can we be sure that these idealistic and ingenious are not just the product of our very own monstrosity? All these formidable questions have nothing else but an impact on how we feel about everything around us. Guilty, regretful, tortured… you name it.

How can I live for a world that wants to ignore their own broken, rotten and darkened silhouette?

I can still remember that I was asked several times by their own manner from the couple I love most: “How can you tell what is right from wrong?”. At the time, I thought it was just about reflecting on what I did wrong and what I can do right. But then again I also grew up thinking what wasn’t wrong can be right. We all know there is no way I will find an answer to that. To be honest, even if I did, I would not share the knowledge of it. I think everyone has the capacity of realizing and making these decisions. I can see, acknowledge and guide a visitor to be confronted to the insane or reasonable choices he will have to do…

But I cannot repair the damages that he or she will provoke in this exposition.

I will keep watch and tell the stories of the remaining constructs of this ruined menagerie of chaos.


We all have our monsters, our demons or our so-called dark side. Sometimes we even let them get the best of us. An everyday challenge we face is to do what we think is right. Sometimes that concept can get blurry and it gets difficult to tell right from wrong. When that line gets blurry that’s when our weaknesses kicks in and we lose ourselves to become the very creature we fear to be. Losing that grasp of control feels refreshing, like being unchained. Only to realize that we were only surrendering our freedom to the reins of discord. Selling ourselves out to whatever destructive force this planet offers is one of the first steps. Doing the dirty bidding that our wishes whispers us are probably where you start to do some serious damage. The sad part is that we are to blame for anyone who falls into this mischievous trap, because we did nothing about it.

One of the first and the most deadliest and intolerable excuse of all. Neglecting the lives around you could result in leading you in a path you no longer have control of. The very mysteries you thought you were uncovering were only trails by fire. Or just the lack of realization can provoke the resulting balance to switch from one side to the other.
Yet you can’t really criticize someone for being unaware of a few things they trust blindly. That bond usually goes both ways and it is very difficult to doubt the ones you believe in. What would you have done in their shoes?

The usual consequence of Ignorance. If the choices we make were to define us, the choice of negligence is among these. The passive tolerance is an example. Letting the world consume itself because you don’t want to feel responsible of what comes after makes you responsible for your self consumption. There are no strict rules on what someone should or shouldn’t do. The only thing that results is the impact of your decisions and how you apply them.
Should you let the vicious circle of ignorance guide your inaction and be a victim? Or did you willingly chose to ignore for the sake of the excuse to not feel responsible?

Champion of pain. Root of malice. Student of the eternal.
The lack of feeling is what tears us apart from everything. Some of us define it as a symptom of mental illness. Like we are some outcasts that do not deserve the chance at a normal life amongst everyone. Not all of us have been granted the fate of feeling the same thing and some of us have even been deprived or stripped of it. The living torment of a constant reminder of what kind of freak you can be.
Does that really make us monsters? Are we really that much unworthy of that mysterious and special virtue? What kind of privilege do we need to get to that point of humanity?


I don’t think I ever managed to explain entirely why I consider myself to be such an insane creature. Although most of you would differ.
It is about knowing, learning and understanding.
Endless hunger for knowledge. Even what you might not wish for.
Limitless amount of possibilities. Especially the ones that are inconceivable.
Selfless thoughts and care to others. Eventually you will forget.

This reminds me of a funny story:
There were three mentally ill guys who were locked up in an asylum. And one day they realized they didn’t want to be eternally locked up. So they decided to escape.
The first one had no idea nor an escape plan that he tried forcing his way out rushing through doors and doors only to be finally sedated and sent to a cell.
The second made up an elaborate plan and even knew his way around the asylum pretty well. When the day came, he just couldn’t stop talking about his plan that he gave himself away and got sent to the cell next to his friend.
The third guy, observing how the other two failed learned from their mistakes and quietly planned for his escape for days and nights. When the day came, the two friends argued over how their friend escaped the asylum with success since they haven’t seen him for hours. A few weeks later they see their friend getting locked up in the cell like them. So they said:
“Seems like you failed as well”.
“Oh no.”, he replied, “I did manage to get out.”
“But how did you get back here then?”, they asked.
“When I was out, I could smell fresh air. The bright sun on my skin and the wind gushing through the forest. I was into the wild. I managed to find a town and enjoyed the city life for a while. I had a great time: I had a job and made some new friends. I even had a girlfriend…”, he paused for a moment. Seeing the confusion in his friends’ eyes he continued: “But you see: out there, there were no indications of ‘Freedom’, so I came back to ask for some directions.”

Excuse me…


For this World.

I would give even my life. My dry tears and my quiet cries are part of what I am today. My thoughts, my words, my actions are what makes me still feel free. Dragging the weights of these chains everywhere I go. Captivated by the sound of music of your heart. My burned blind eyes can still see the color of your soul. I can still breathe the same air. And feel the aura of your presence through the winds. You have nothing to fear from me, because I have sealed the creature within me since the day I was born. I understand you. I trust…

One life should not be defined by questions. It should be cherished by how it affects others and how they are connected.
One life can change how you see the world. It can alter the very darkest corners into blinding light.
One life has the power to help and make others better. It grants the freedom of choices.
One life is all you have.

“You reap what you sow”

I can’t help but feel like I have a lot to redeem myself for. Everyday I stare at what surrounds me and I cannot help myself but feel guilt. Curious how chaos have its own way of working itself to reach you. In that moment I can’t help but believe that I deserve whatever is coming my way.

Wouldn’t you agree?

I will remember for as long as my mind allows me to. Every details, every word, every actions you take. I will observe you grow and cheer for you. I will weep with you when you feel sad. I will calm you when you feel angry. I will encourage you with my heart when you feel down. I will rejoice when you feel happy. I feel pride when you succeed at something. All the steps that will guide you to this journey ahead of you is an everyday battle that you will talk about until your very last day.

I hope you won’t doubt me when you’ll need me.

Pain will sever me from the few things left in me.

I pray you will seek to do what is right.

I don’t have much left to trade myself for this world…

Don’t feel sorry for me. My fate was sealed long ago.

While falling back, to the pit of shadows.

I vow to…





Quiet and calm are the noises in my head when I wake up. It’s like I’ve conquered a hostile and aggressive world. I let rain drip every pieces of this world back to the ground and the wind will carry the thoughts and whispers of someone. This soothing but painful ritual will reconstruct myself to the world I lay feet on. Feeling the weight of air when I breathe is the first grasp I have on this land. I can feel the bones clustering themselves within every muscle that have been shaken. My mind can feel the cries of agony that every part of my body screams. It’s like starting an engine: it roars and then balances itself.

Your thoughts are slowly taking shape and form in your mind. It builds itself into a city of reflections. You can hear noises and your head dances to it. You see colors of black and white. Even with a bright sunlight your mind can make it feel like a rainy day. It’s a never-ending curse that eats off ideas.

“Who are you?”

Listen to these voices. They want to talk to you. And their desires are very real.

“You have to listen to us! We know what you want!”

But would that make them stop talking? They feed off your life and give nothing back. It is probably better if we satisfy them once and twice and on and on. Can we really deny them satisfaction?

“Ignoring is not a solution.”

Rejection is a very strong way to deal with these haunting speeches that keep on repeating themselves. But rejection will also force these voices to be more adamant about their say. They want to be heard. They echo through your head. They resonate within every limb of your body.

“You will like it.”
“Don’t you want it?”
“Just try it.”

They are eating me alive. I can feel my skin burning from inside. I am slowly going blind. This is the legacy I have been bestowed. Holding your thoughts, your every moments, your feelings.
I keep these secrets. I carry them with me during the day. Upon my shoulders they rest. They travel around with me. I show them different views. I make them listen various sounds. The visage of every soul I cross gives them more reason to what to think. But that would be giving in to the madness. To abandon all the things I witnessed.
The skies are pretty tonight…

“But can’t you see? Don’t you hear it?”
“They never will”

Please, I am tired. Let me rest. This is my home. I don’t need to see nor hear it. I already know what they are.

I am them. “We are you.”