sacrificial

 And here I am again, cleaning after the dust of my old self, wrapped in old addictions. The same cigarette smell, the very known parfum. The new sounds, the same music. The ancient soul of my younger self coming to tell me I knew years ago that I have no right to feel better for more than just a few seconds.

I still mourn. The old me. The friends who might be happy living their carefree life or maybe dead, who knows. The past lovers. The former mistakes. The peace I took for granted. The energy I had to read and immerse in different worlds. The fire I had underneath my skin. The madness. The time I had to take care of myself, of this broken temple, of this shattered soul, of this defected imagination.

But I still succeed, chasing after the chemicals that make me forget how fragmented I might have become. Beign delighted by the storm my mind become in itself when I let my visions run wild. But now I have a house - a home - to take care of. Very mundane problems to solve. Very tired bones to heal.

And they try to come after me. The more I am confident and tired and complex I become, the more outraged and insulted people seem to turn. Sometimes they succeed and I take many, many steps back. This is why I am here again. And again. And this place will always be my treasured den to rest.

I am the horse running alone

I am also the one who tries to tame it

I am sorry, Warsan Shire. For I am indeed terrifying, and strange, and beautiful, and even something not everyone knows how to love... But should this apply to myself even now? Even when I have lived a thousand lives?

Should I give myself to some religion or cult or, I don't know, some place where I might belong beign raw and unstable and call it faith? Waiting for the rapture, believing in something above moral and justice, some code made by men, but that I couldn't refuse because of a greater truth?

Please make me believe. Take me out of myself for I am too tired to make any decisions now. Blind me. Fool me. Give me something so I can get away from the center of this messy stage.