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?



There is a place we all go when we close our eyes. Something that keeps us thinking at night. It’s like our mind never goes dormant and always has something to say about our lives. We love our dreams, they give us hope and courage to face anything and to achieve what we wish. But then again we have nightmares. Our fear and anxiety all put into one short film that you’re forced to watch. These are real ideas and thoughts that are put together to create a realm you walk into. You’re a visitor.
It is only when we wake up that we remember the oddity of our dreams. The strangeness of it will echo through your mind and create a thought. Like a light in the vast darkness that envelops your mind.

That luminous pebble that fills up your gravel yard with other memories. They all shine with different intensity, with different colors and with different shape. And as you walk on it, every stone shapes your feet, you remember how it feels like. The soft round edges, the sharp and pointy corners and the unrefined surfaces of many different rocks that reminds you of what you lived.

It is hard to forget something you lay feet on. Every good or bad memory is what you stand on and holds you all together. But that does not mean they have to define you. Every moment you shared, everything you’ve lived and experienced is the proof that you had to make choices in your life to be here today. But what do you make of it?
All of these stones laying out as a field in front of you. Some are scalding, some are icy and we never really know what to make out of it.
This field of memory has a weather of its own. It can be sunny, cloudy, windy and rainy… You just have to be careful to disastrous weathers. That’s when your ground starts to shake and pebbles go flying all around. It is literally chaos in your mind. You chase after the moments you care about and try to hold on to them.

Dangerous it is to wander around unstable grounds. These scarred fields are what can demolish your entire perspective of yourself. All the sins that cannot be atoned for through the daily deeds of your life. All the damages that will mark you for eternity. And the irrepressible guilt that flows through your veins as you gaze at the storm of your recollection. One can only comprehend what lies before him with open eyes.

“Would I let this chaos devour me? Would I let everything I lived for be fragmented for this madness? Will I have the strength to rise again?”
“… Only one way to know for sure.”

I live for this insanity… Because it is who I am.

Within a Billion

Faces are one of the signatures of our identity. It comes in a single piece that was given to us from the very beginning. It’s like a reflection of your thoughts, your emotions and yourself. But only you cannot see its true colors. And you never will. Mirrors will reflect only what the light can show you but it won’t show you the shadows you hold behind. Within that glimpse of that light, you still find imperfection, details you want to change. You want to hide that. It is normal. Nobody, not even yourself, wants to see the mistakes or the damage you reflect.
We all wear a mask to hide ourselves behind it and feel better with what we see.

We wear it knowing we’ll see other masks walk around us and without thinking what they hide. Like we care, we just talk about it: how good it looks, how different it is from yesterday and so on. It is a conversation between two inert faces that can’t care enough to see through it. It is such a privilege to see someone’s real face, with their pain, with their happiness, with their issues and imperfection that makes them so beautiful and pure. Such a privilege that you forget to take off yours. It crackles and breaks apart and you reveal yourself.
In that moment you feel silence and awe. Who knew that a real face could make you feel so much? It’s like looking at someone’s soul through their eyes. You were in such a content state when you wore the mask that you forgot the world around you. We forget the pain of others when we’re happy.

You gaze at yourself the next day. The mirror still reflects you what the light can. And you realized that you have changed. You are different. But you still want to be recognized. So you forge yourself another mask that suits you. You worry that people will fear what you’ve become. It’s like a vicious cycle between narcissism and altruism that keeps dictating how you wish to be.

Imagine how free you feel when you don’t need to wear that mask. Naked, exposed, liberated. It takes you out of your comfort zone and puts you into perspective. And you will listen to your heart. The very things that you care about. Set into your path as if they were destined to be there. You feel, yourself. Lying in and lying to the vast emptiness of the world.
There is no more shame, no more anger, no more problems. Just you, the world around you and what you care most in it.
An everyday wish is facing reality without having to hide. No reason to fear on how to show yourself to others: as you are and as you want them to see you. Let the mask be a blank one that your most close people will color it for you. They will show you how they see you and they will enjoy to share that moment with you. It is fun an interesting to see how the colors change with time.

My true ‘mask’ has been with me for so long it has darkened around the colors of my eyes…

Hi, I’m SeiZa

Hi all,

You can call me SeiZa and I’m having a hard time to realize and admit that I’m depressed. I thought I would give this a go.

I won’t hold you to read my whole story, but here goes:
I’m an almost 27 years old man. I currently live in Paris, France.
I’m about 1,80m (5’9″), I have parents that come from 2 countries that are on opposite sides of the globe.
I speak 5 languages, english, japanese, french, italian and spanish.

This might be the first time I’ve come to realize that I wish someone could hear my thoughts and I have no clue of where to start off so I’ll go from the beginning.

To summarize my early childhood, I would say I’ve lived in a fairly 90s’ kid style of life with the luxury of having traveled and moved around the globe quite a lot.
I don’t know how well you remember when you joined school for the first time. For me: I am this racial mix legacy thrown into a rich international school where classes were associated with the nationality of their pupils. And we all know how cruel kids can be: Well I was the freak that the entire school would hear about not in a good way.
We all had our ‘friends’ while growing up in a bunker full of flourishing parasites. But I was violent, short tempered and intolerant. With the years passing by I’ve come to change my violence into energy, my short temper into curiosity and my intolerance into faith. It might not sound logical but just go along with it…
Suffice to say, I was not very popular, mostly feared or dismissed and I was happy to have my family to hold on to me.

In the end, I grew up without having any solid base or roots to hold myself onto. It was like I was thrown in limbo and someone removed my eyesight. Survival is not even a concept you can even grasp at this point, you just don’t know who you are, lost and wandering the eternal darkness that holds you dear as your home.
So when you find something that feels even remotely different than your reality, you give yourself fully to it as to test your belief. And I was wrong to think that it would help me change how I see the world.
It was the complete opposite…

I had no other choice than to live with this chase for the truth, the reality that will not fear me, the world and the people that will trust me. One would think that it would be wise to try to honestly open up to people, because that’s how you connect to others. You get happy, you get sad, you get angry and all the magical feelings that life granted you.
But this is not how the world works. It is much bigger, much larger and a lot of bad stuff happens. Sometimes you can’t do anything about it, it just comes to you. And in this moment, I thought that those who I trusted most could help me open up my eyes, guide me in this darkness or even hold my hand.

It’s like they know better than you. That I don’t ‘deserve’ to know their truth.
Or it is because they ‘fear’ you enough to not give you their truth.
They don’t want to ‘hurt’ you. It’s for your own ‘protection’.
If they really cared and trusted me, they wouldn’t go through all this trouble to protect themselves. These lies that they hold themselves behind are just an illusion they grant to others to feel better about them.
They just don’t realize the difference of damage they cause this way. It’s just easier for them. Their weakness is their own decision and it hurts me.

“Lift the curtain and tell me!…”
“… You are too good for them.”

Today, I do not know how much of myself I have left. I am not happy. I am not sad nor angry.
With time it get much more difficult to feel. So I hold on to it when I can.
I am disappointed in life. And I care about it.
I have done a lot and will do much more to go further.
The voices in my head tell me I’m still human. But I know the void inside me is starting to have a mind on it’s own.
I want to be stronger than this. I don’t want to give up.

… I walk alone.

Thank you for the time you granted to read me.