Beating around reality,

Getting caught in the bush. 

Endymion sleeps without knowing:

I had a love I lost in the stratosphere.

We never said a word,

I bit holes in my cheeks. 

Tunneled to a sound you can’t make;

It’s a wave,

And like all waves,

It diminishes


Thank you, Ayde. Wouldn’t have found that without your comment. 


Imaginary Conversation II

Reading your palms as roads and maps

To your future and back; untold

Stories waiting to begin

And finally unfold —

I want to read every dubious word

Through the ways in your soul.

Going through your spirit

To protect you from your enemies

And the firing tongues — holding

Your hand through every half truth

And unfaithful hour







Imaginary Conversation

Roads into your arms, blue lines

Straight to your source of life, again —

As the night falls your light shines upon

All of us with its flawed perfection.

Tell me the words you’ve kept for yourself

Since the beginning of time

When I chose my desiny would be spent

On days holding on to you

In a distant memory, frozen in time —

Maybe you don’t deserve any more poems,

But a smile and a tight hug goodbye;

Imaginary conversations

Go endlessly in my head

As your distant light blinds all of us




Falling down

Just to meet the concrete —

Petals will always

Dance anyway




I wrote a really long poem, then realized I didn’t like it. So I deleted half and 90% of the words. But I like it a lot better now, hmm. So I’m good.

PS. How does one delete half (50%) and 90% at the same time? Lol I can’t with my own math. God, it’s 4am.

Self Proclaimed Martyr

A wandering star in the winter sky

Only makes the night darker

Once it fades away


Waking up from the delirium,

Just like a martyr —

I wake up on the cross


Fantasia (fragment) by Álvares de Azevedo

Loosely translated by Lira

No hashtags

It’s like my life is falling apart even though everything is pretty much okay irl. I’m just really depressed. 

A few years ago I had the chance to adopt a child at the place I was doing volunteer work. I loved that child, but I didn’t have a job nor a partner, so I gave up on the idea. Years later and I’m still haunted by it. I’m always thinking about that baby, and I always catch myself feeling guilty and sad over it. I always think it’s like I abandoned that child, but I know it’s not true because I was still a child myself too. Still am to an extent. I know I’m overdramatic, but I know I won’t ever forgive myself for that. 

I’m not taking medicine anymore, I dropped my antidepressants a couple months ago, and to be completely honest, I don’t want to take them anymore. I really wish I’d have the balls to kill myself, but I don’t wanna go through the consequences of a failed attempt anymore. I’ve done that way too many times. I wish someone would show up at my door today and drag me outside and take me anywhere so I could forget about why my life is so absolutely meaningless. But no one will. And realistically speaking, maybe I’d say no if anyone did.

I know I probably sound like an extremely negative person, but I always try to be positive with others, and even myself, when I’m not in this awful state of mind. It’s a mental and emotional war where the logical part of my brain and my deepest, craziest feelings don’t give each other a break. I’m in my mid 20’s with the chances of getting a possibly nice career ahead of me; I have a diploma, I have a job that doesn’t pay me much, but is what I love doing. Still, here I am, feeling hopeless. I guess I don’t have the things I truly need to be happy, but I don’t even know what those things may be. I think that, in the end, I don’t have anything.

I’m publishing this because talking about my feelings was the original purpose of my blog anyway. As time passed, I started adding lots of stuff. It’s my journal, so why not? I’m also publishing this because I don’t want to talk to anyone I know IRL, or worry my handful of online friends anymore with my nonsense and whining, but not telling the world about the way I feel seems impossible. Yesterday I locked myself in my room and screamed at the top my lungs for no reason. I stopped because I didn’t want my neighbors to call the police. I think I just need to express myself, but how can I do that if by opening up, I worry and hurt others? 

It’s like I’m just waiting for more years to pass, and hoping that a miracle will happen. When I was younger I thought I wouldn’t be here after turning 20, and here I am. So the idea of being here in my mid 20’s and beyond is really scary. And at the same time I feel like I’m guilty of feeling the way I do because I should appreciate life somehow. But I don’t.

I feel a lot of physical pain too, and according to two doctors, it’s all in my head. I’ve gone through a bunch of tests and CT scans, and I’m healthy according to them, but my pelvic area hurts so much. It’s just making things worse. Maybe it’s really just in my head, which means I’m just making my own situation worse — again, it’s just my brain fighting with itself over something I don’t understand.




Just posting some beauty on my blog because I’m uninspired and the world feels ugly today…

One of my students got a tattoo of one of Mucha’s lovely paintings.

He didn’t even know who that was until I told him.

He told the tattoo artist that he wanted to get something… And that’s what the guy chose for him. It was simple as that.

(I wish I was like that sometimes)


Diving into the calming blue, where no

Light can ever reach — my hands

Search for what my eyes

Will never see again.

Sinking down,

Where I no longer have to breathe;

Just slowly

Let my body sail away