see through me

A bit of my thoughts about life in general and things that keep it worth living...


act, react...

You stand alone and you hold a small rock, then you effortlessly swing your arm and throw it to a pond. Its trajectory traced in a curve only you could see, because only you know the strength of your throw, the distance you are aiming and only you could know where it would land before anyone else. Because it was your doing. It was your decision to throw that rock.

And it would land more or less on the spot you were directing it.

Then you’ll see the ripples starting to form, slowly spreading themshelves into every direction, making circles and circles of consequences that even you couldn’t predict, however hard you thought when you were holding that rock before you actually threw it.

You did the action. You know - or at least you think you know – what you were doing at the time.

But you could never predict the consequences.

For every action, there is a reaction.

You were aiming for the lotus in the middle of the pond, but actually you miss it by few centimeters.

You’re dissapointed, at first.

Then you’ll see that the ripples going slowly toward the lotus, nonchalantly shaking it.

It wasn’t your intention. But in a way, you succeed to make a little change in that lotus' state.

And then you smile. Because what you did, whatever the outcome, did something to pull you closer to the destination.

Knowing that, you would try once again.

Because life ain’t static, there is no right or wrong, black or white… failure or success.

Everything you do has consequences that could be hard to swallow, could be harsh to taste… too hot to handle. In any case, you would have to face them, look at them straight in their eyes and hold them tight so you would never let them go and be forgotten.

And life is always about second chance. Fail now, try again.

Action and reaction, beauty of life.

An unseparable couple that would always remind you one thing…

… that life is truly worth living.


Shorty 010...

Story of O

Over and over, on his heart overloaded by the overwhelming and ongoing obsession of her, he felt occluded. Omitting every old-age questions of her opacity toward him, he oppressed all his doubts. The opera of her being inside him that ornamented his soul, the orgasmic orgy of her that outbursted all over him. Outcast from his own reality, he didn’t really know the outcome of the option he had chosen.

But oh, she was his Ophelia, the oxygen that fed his dying lungs, the attracting opposite. She opened a door inside him that was once closed. Her omnipotent shadows oiled all over his being; odd, he knew, how he was switched into so many octaves the day he met her.

She occupied his thoughts like fishes in the ocean, an odd occurrence. Everything was becoming obsolete, he observed. His life was obscure, obscene at the very least before she opened her arms to him.

And his past became lines of obituaries, dark as onyx, and he would put all that behind. He could only offer her a future, however opaque it was to see.

She was his ode to life.

*inspired by, well, the letter O... :)*


Piece of mind 05...

The world circles the sun.
My world circles around hers.

The sun would shine no matter what.
My sun would only shine with her smile.

Pain would make you stronger.
My pain nullifies everything else.

Love would always find a way.
My love already found its way.

Fate is an unknown fact for everyone.
My fate is already in her hands.

Mind is the only thing that would guide you.
My mind is guided by my heart.

Heart is a strange place to live in.
My heart already resides in hers.

Eyes are the windows of your soul
My eyes reflect only her.

Reality is what you make of it.
My reality is ethereal…

My reality is hers.

*This is my sin, my confession. See you all.


Shorty 009...

Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch’entrate.

The sentence kept turning inside his head, filling every single corner of his thoughts. The dark room was once again embracing him with her shadow that danced around him, teasing him with her phantom scent.

Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch’entrate.

Still the phrase was screaming at him, strenously poking him exactly where it hurts and the pain, he knew it, would linger. It would stay there forever, it would not end.

And only her could heal the bleeding wound. The dripping blood that fell into the his personal grail that he would keep deep down inside his heart.

Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch’entrate.

She was his Beatrice. He would travel the seven circles for her, he would endure every punishment for his sin. The sin of loving her.

The bite of apple that lasted in his throat, choking him slowly, squeezing his life every single day.

Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch’entrate.

He didn’t know what to do next, he didn’t know how the journey would end.

He didn’t mind.

She was her Beatrice.

His tomorrows started the day she came.

Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch’entrate...

Ma io sempre vado per te, cara...
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