What it means to be Me

hey im lonely

What it means to be Me at all. Being born into oneself may be one of the most significant moment in any part of life, to be born as you, and just you, not anyone else but you, that is what this life was meant to be wasn’t it? Then why are we all breaking ourselves, turning that miraculous moment into nothing, and trying to wear another mask to keep living? Do you even call that living at all? And yet, why is it so hard to be live as oneself, that self-born into this world without doubt and lies, but just the ultimate passion and truth for life, when did that all disappear and get clouded, it’s so hard to see beyond the mist now.

Trapped in such concrete for decades, now that walls seem too hard and high for me to do something about it. I am scared to step out into the world as who I want to be, I don’t even know whether this self that I want to be, is truly what I want, it can be anyone else’s idea, not mine. I could have copied it through the process of walking in society for too long, believing in someone else’s ideas as mine, where is that line between the outside and the inside world? Such an easy world to get lost, engulfed into the current of information that all seems relevant to one, but has nothing to do with you at all, but you try to stick a part of it to yourself anyways, just in case. It’s scary to try out what you think is you, because it’s so different, it’s so not me, but then, who am I at all?

And the more I ask this question, the more the world becomes like a lie, because I don’t know, you don’t know, they don’t know, we all don’t know. We are all living in the air of uncertainty, and yeah maybe, that’s what it should be. Not knowing is always scary, because we are all precious to ourselves, no? And we would want to protect that self as much as possible. No one wants to die, no one wants to struggle. And yet, we have many walls and holes to get out, get over of, never-ending stairs and the winding road and the curves, I am getting scared, asking myself when is this all going to end? Maybe when I die? And some actually believe so, they are gone like a wind, that does not remain there, but away into the happiness they thought it must exist. But even that is unknown.

There is a reason why we are all alive now, this moment, my hands flying across the keyboards and the words just pouring out, my heart beating and my eyes are reading the words that’s seems to be alive on the screen. Can you believe it? That you’re actually alive here, now, breathing, listening, sitting there on that chair. And can you even imagine? The lives that disappear and reappear in this world every second?

I want to be alive in a moment to be alive, I don’t want to run, because I think it is still worth it no matter how hard it is, because I just want to live, and dying, it seems so scary to me, and most of all, there are millions of things I still want to do, want to see, want to explore and places I want to go, I want to be still alive even though it’s hard because it’s worth it.

Life is about everything, one getting somewhere, nowhere, it does not matter as long as you’re here. As long as you’re waking up every day, your breathing filling a part in this world, that’s more than enough, you know that? But no one tells you that, so I am telling you. I am telling you and you and you and myself and every single being around me, that you deserve to be. I don’t know whether I would be able to say that at difficult circumstances, when some things are just unbearable and intolerable, I don’t know if I can keep standing strong like this, but I will be waking up, always, until my last breath.

It is a risk to live, to be alive, because there’s a way of ending, always. But then again, why even be here at all right? I deserve to be here, as myself. representation of the things I love, the people I adore and love, and myself, itself.

I love and hate all this moment, because some seems good, some seem like crap and a lot of the time, I want curl up and cry. But here I am now, writing like crazy, reading, film and music surrounding me like a sot blanket, the cool metal against you skin, the wind walking through the window, the night seeping in through the curtains and I love it all, I hate tomorrow still, I will be waking up, I love it and hate and I guess that’s what life is.

I’ve still got a lot of years left, I think, at least I still have uncountable things I want to drink in from this world, so it’s not time yet for me to go.

So as I say the last words:

Dear Me You

You are you, no matter what. You are what you are, what you were and what you will be. You are part of every single part of this universe and I love you and adore you, just for that, just for being there. There are plenty of reasons to cry yourself to sleep, and I know how hard those sleepless nights are. But you are alright. Life is life, as it is, no more of less than it could be as it is now. You came here for a reason, and one reason only, to be here as what you are. Thanks for being you, thanks for existing.

From Life

P.S embrace it, while you’re at it okay? Eventually you’re the sort that gets it all, don’t fret too much.






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