Wolves die alone.

Charlotte told me once that if I was an animal I’d have been a wolf, so did Heather, Eve, Marwa.

I used to joke about it, tell them that they probably think so because of my hairy nature. It’s not a joke anymore and if it was it’s not funny.

I’m losing track of all the failed attempts to be in a relationship, it all blends late at night when I lay on my bed, eyes wide open, and all I recall is a mixture of perfumes, skin scents, soft voices some are high pitched and some are low, some are sweet and some are sour, even the ones I got to taste at some point, it all blends into a stomach turning blend.

I love wolves for their independence and intellect, their bravery and loyalty for the few they select as friends, and their determination to bring down their enemies even if it was the last thing they’d do.

I used to remember the times I’ve been compared to a wolf with a proud flattered grin, I only forgot one thing I read about wolves a long time ago, a wolf’s senses are strong, a wolf never forgets, a wolf lives amongst the pack, but a wolf dies alone…



I wish if I could babble away just like I used to, but I think I understand now.

The more you taste real life the harder it becomes to wipe off the stupid fake grin off of your face.
All I could say now is that I’m numb, I lost the ability to dream and I lost my smile, I wish if it was my body that was all beat up, I wish if my soul remained restless, now I just don’t feel like I have one.

And yeah, growing up is by far the worst experience I’ve ever gone through, guess it’s time to shut up now, there’s nothing left to say.

Yes there is, there absolutely is, fuck that, when the hell did I lose that and why? Innocence is key when it comes to comfort of the soul even if this comfort is restlessness, I don’t think I lost it, I just think that I haven’t been feeling enough maybe, my emotions are not dead they’re just numb maybe?

I used to be angry with God, with the world, un-accepting of what is set up to be the rules, maybe it’s because I started to feel emotionally safe? Maybe because the search for comfort was over? It made me think that I’m not on the road anymore while the fact of the matter is I am still living on borrowed time and all the things around me are things I don’t own.

I love her, but I’m used to be estranged and alone, even now as the words race through my head I can feel a bit of a rush that flashes and fades just like a warning sign, a sign that could signify that I should leave things the way they are and redirect my heart to other pursuits, or it could mean that it’s time to tear it all down and throw it away once more.

What can I do when all I know is searching for new things? What can I do when familiarity is the death of and the end of my world.

When I was a little child I used to think that where the sky met the sea is the edge of the world and the end of all things as we know it and the beginning of the unknown, and I used to stare out of the car’s window, always wishing if I was “there” regardless of where I was, I always wanted to leave and go “there”.

I lost this eagerness to go “there” it’s all here and now, rent, expenses, the job, love, marriage, look for clients abe you’re broke.
No more questions, no more meditation, no more… Thought, no light bulbs floating over my head anymore, I even miss the pain and the fear believe it or not, no all it is, is just this numb anger, this half ass ability, no more joy in details, this is basically what art is, you won’t love every single thing you work on, but you must learn to love the process because the joy comes from creating the details, not the whole thing, it’s the building process brick by brick and you put yourself into the details.

I’m afraid to say that I feel better, and I don’t know what should I do next, I guess I’ll take some distance for now, maybe when I step back a little bit, maybe then I’ll be able to see “There” and wonder what’s on the other side once more, maybe then I’ll regain this eagerness to go There, “There” where my heart and mind will always belong, no more here and now, no more here and now, never again.

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…