Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Robert Frost

Clutter, cold wind, and other things.

It’s been a while where I couldn’t sit still outside, smoke in silence and enjoy the cold wind without shivering or feeling this heavy load on my back, it’s been a while and I’m starting to lose track of all the definitive things in my world.

I’m being drowned in the 9 to 5 mood again, unfortunately that’s how the world works, but it’s not how my world works, I don’t want to sit on a desk and push nodes all day long, there;s nothing wrong with that at all, I just want something different, I want to create things.

I need isolation once more, comfort is only to be found in solitude and solitude alone.

Funny how even with the ones you care for the most you find yourself wearing a mask, unintentionally maybe, because you know that you have nothing to offer but silence and brooding so you come up with one lame joke after the other, you pretend you care about people you don’t care much for in order not to lose good connections, or because they’re “nice” and it would be rude if you walk away just so your train of thought wouldn’t crash and burn, and at a certain point it would be too late to be who you really were since the start.

It’s either burn bridges and go with your gut feeling or play nice cause you never know what tomorrow might bring, and I could never balance things out in that regard.

If you know me and you read this let me apologise in advance but I’m turning into someone I don’t know any longer and I can’t live in a stranger’s skin, I got used to estrangement and I believe it’s about time to go back to square one.

I want to be able to dream and envision things again without being interrupted every 5 minutes with a story that I (and I’m sorry) don’t care much for.


Once we’re done chasing our tails in search for perfection and if we ever end up finding it, believe it or not, perfection is the dullest thing you’d ever go through in your entire life.

What makes life worth living is the imperfections, imagine if you didn’t screw up your 1st kiss (Yeah I did, get off of my back) would you be able to learn from it? would you have this smile on your face now? If you didn’t break your hand jumping over the school’s fence, would that have made a story you’d remember with your friends 10 years later?

What I’m trying to say is, if things go as planned, where is the “life” in that? If it’s all sketched out and laid down and all you have to do is just walk through it knowing how each and every detail goes, knowing where each piece will fall.

And yeah, I guess I screwed up again 😀 and I guess I’ll keep doing it till the day I die, you see, fucking things up is my favourite hobby, guess the fun part is either remembering it and laughing it of someday, preferably with someone you love who’d punch you in the shoulder (Or in the face) reminding you of how much of an idiot you were…

Am I in love or what?

I was writing this down as a post on my blog, but I realized that it was another message in a bottle that I was planning to hide from you, but you see me now and you know how clumsy I am.
I realized as I was writing this down how much you mean to me cause right now I’m actually letting you in, Shaw2y, Heeka, Nada, babe whoever you are, I hope you do the same, and no I think you are capable of loving, if you just… you know… SPEAK!
There’s something different about you, you’re so pure, you make me feel clean, as if buckets of dirt has been poured down my soul through out all the years and somehow I just hear your voice or see your eyes and it’s all gone, a new beginning maybe.
Another chance to be a different person for you, with you.

P.s: I adored your smile.

P.p.s: I’m sorry I kept smiling like an idiot, but it’s all I could do seeing you in front of me.

Losing sight.

The road beneath your feet, the woman on your heart and the vision in your mind.
That’s what it always was to me, nothing made me feel as refreshed as the smell of wet asphalt, good coffee and tobacco, the promise of a new place and a long trip to get there.

Hotels, cabs, trains and eventually air planes, like a quest where you have to follow the never ending map where you discover that the treasure all along is in the journey, the friendships, the good times, the hard times, the experiences you gain…

Lately I’ve lost sight of what I want and I lost the sense of who I am, all the things I wanted and dreamt of one day were melting away last night along with the ice on the road.
I wanted to cry but the tears just wouldn’t come, it was all frozen inside, seems that I’m loosing the ability to feel as well, but what the hell, life turned out to be a belle dame sans regrets herself.

I’m doing well, not complaining, I just need to find a meaning, a reason, because now I don’t have any, I just can’t see anymore.

We grow old and weary way too fast, with every punch under the belt we can’t help but crouch, trying to dodge the next strike which we know is inevitable, cynicism becomes a lifestyle, craving isolation and solitude as if we’re sitting in the corner begging to be left alone, no more heartbreaks God please, no more disappointments, I will change, I won’t change, one more try, no goddammit it makes no deference.

What have become of us? Funny the further you walk up the hill and look from a distance, you see a more innocent picture, innocent in a very dark sense so to speak, we’re still children playing and bragging, still trying to get what we want not caring much about collateral damage until we become the collateral damage another child leaves in their wake, we’re still children playing around yeah, but the playground gradually turns into a jungle of asphalt, red bed sheets and toy cars turn into roaring engines.
It all expands with time just to explode into one last burst of glorious nothingness.

Poison, poisonous, it’s all poisonous, the masks we wear to be allowed to play with others, the masks of flattery, deception or even the benign one we wear to hide what’s really going on inside, sickening, how we twist the words, the facts the true nature of things and it’s all just means to an end, the wise ones you meet along the way will tell you to simplefy and take it one beat at a time so you want fall out of rhythm, isn’t that what’s it’s real all about? Rhyme and reason?

Hardly, none of it really makes sense and still we go on, maybe it’s all about the reasons you go on for?
This is boring, guess I’ll just leave it there…


Falling back into the cold, welcoming arms of sin, I’m doing all I can to hold back but it’s almost impossible to fight the impulse.

God please help me, throw love in my heart, send me an angel, tie my hands behind my back, I can’t hold back and I can’t help it, I’m trying, please save me, I wanna start clean, please help me.

How can I fight back when I just don’t feel home? When I don’t have a single light to guide me back to square one where things were clean and pure? How can I start over when all the reasons are fading and blurring away?

Please help me, give me a home and make me happy with it, I know I’m not worthy, I know I made way too many mistakes, I know that my whole life is a series of falling in and out of addictions, I don’t believe in me, I believe in you.
Please save me.

Never the same.

Every now and again I dream about you, the one who taught me that caring is not an advantage.
I found what I believe to be an angel, an intervention from above, I won’t load her with the heavy task of saving my soul, but for some reason although I never met her face to face she actually is saving me, guess she doesn’t even know it.
And I’m baffled, how does she do that? I’ve had women sleeping next to me and all it felt like was just kicking them out, no sympathy, no compassion, no nothing at all.

Maybe it’s the sense of “cleanliness” I don’t know how else to describe it, she didn’t dive in the dark depths of my brain, I doubt she could, I don’t want her to, I want her to stay in the light where she belongs and I want to leave this darkness way behind.

Oh well, if time has taught me something it’s not to build castles in the sky, one step at a time.

What was I writing about again? that blessed angel made me forget, oh, right, old wounds.
Strange, it doesn’t hurt that bad anymore, it’s there still, but more of an echo than a pronounced memory.

It’s never the same, but it’s never the same either.