Category Archives: Literature and Written Stuff

A big fucking life block

People know writers are creative individuals and possibly strange creatures who retreat and live periods of time in solitude in order to write a masterpiece.
They also know writers fear, what is, for them, an apocalyptic event: the so-called “Writer’s block”, meaning a period of time, usually more than would be comfortable, during which no inspiration occurs and the writer is left blank without ideas to write about.

What people don’t generally get is that writers are people too, and they can suffer the hardships of life just like any other man or woman, in addition to “Writer’s block”.
They can especially experience a “Life block”.

A life block is, in my opinion, writer’s block applied to all the aspects of a person’s life.

Where do you go next? What do you believe in? What is truly important to you? What is that thing you’d do for the rest of your life, no matter what, and it’d make you happy?

What if you arrived at a certain point and time in your life, for which you should actually be grateful for, but you suddenly realize this is not where you wanna be, this is not the path you’d like to continue walking on?
And when you start to think about this, when you try to find ways to alter the direction your life is going at the moment, you realize you should have made different decisions ten years ago. Those different choices would have allowed you now to be in a different place, but back then, you had no idea you’d wanna be in that place where you wanna be now.

So how ‘bout this for a life setting? What do you do? Just stop, roll over and die? Continue walking on a path you don’t actually hate but also don’t identify with anymore? Try to go where you’d wanna go while keeping the safe harbor of the current, known to you, road? Burn everything down and almost unwittingly condemn yourself to a life of possible misery just so you can try full-time changing your life?
And now that I’ve mentioned “safe harbor” and “life of misery”, there are actually two scenarios: the one in which you play it safe, being harbored and all and you’ll have a potentially-happy life which you’ll live miserably, and the one in which you let go of all your fears and adventure into a possibly miserable life which could change and make you happy at some point, but you’re not sure if that will actually happen or if you’ll just want it to happen but you’ll have no power to make it come true.

Even more, if you question this, isn’t it a sign you maybe just don’t belong, not here, nor there, not anywhere? If you’d really have a “calling” to a profession or another, if it’d really made you happy having a career in a field or another, wouldn’t that be loud like train signal? Would that even be questionable?

Now what? All these questions and no answers. Time passing by, time you’ll never get back, time you lose, actual life you’re losing. Questioning, doubting, not knowing what you really wanna do, going to a job you like and which is paying for your bills and keeping you safe for the moment, but a job you don’t necessarily love and you wouldn’t necessarily do for the rest of your life. And there you go, spinning in circles, day-by-day. Spinning which is paid with actual life-time. There’s nothing more expensive than this. There’s nothing which should be bought with life time, except for the consciousness that you’re doing what you wanna do, which in turn should make you happy.

What’s the next fucking step?

Humanoe General

When I say forward, I’m going backwards.
When I say right, I’m going left.
I’m a liar. Everything I say it’s just one big damn lie.
If I appear to be happy, I’m actually sad.
If I’m showing joy, I’m indifferent, best case scenario.
If I say I’m feeling loved, I’m actually feeling alone.
If it’s not if, it’s when.

I’m as evil and selfish as the ones I blame for being evil and selfish
I follow a cause as long as it follows my interests.
I’m brave in the dark, in front of the keyboard, under an alias.
It’s me and the others.
Who am I?
I’m a human being. There’s evil inside me. Maybe something good also.

Nothing new

I am nothing better than I used to be
no added light
no added darkness
just empty closets hidden behind fake walls
just empty hopes in hopeless worlds.

Time passes all around me
and I’m too heavy to be lift
all dreams and wishes left alone
and nothing, only nothing
to be vividly lived.

The Day of Fallen Leafs

The leafs are falling like memories which die,
erased from brain, they disappear, forgotten.

I want you here, I want you beside me
without messages and phones
with no chance of giving another answer.

I don’t want you to ask me
and I don’t wanna call for you:
I want you to be, I want you to come
I just want your presence in my life
to be self-explanatory.

Without actors or sexy stories
without imagined priorities
without childly inserted distance
and with no apologies

I want you to come with no prior notice
like a surprise
with a cab in the middle of night
hurrying like you once did
to get to me.

You need no invite to be here,
so don’t ask for one
and don’t look for an excuse
just come.

This is the day when leafs are falling
when green goes yellow and it turns to dust
I want to feel you love me
and being close to me
for you, it’s still a must.