philos
liberté
princeps
memoria

Beach
Sitting silently on the breakwater at the beach, turbulent thoughts, staring into the churning waves breaking across worn rocks, staring into what is oblivion, into what is space, what is vacuum.


What is love, you ask. Wait, not just love, true love.

"true love?" she sneered.
"there isn't such a thing?" you wonder.
"and you were born, what, yesterday?" she mocked.
"but such love comes only once, or so I've heard." you say.
"maybe. But then again, we all live lies.".


How terrible a thing, to feel your heart constrict painfully, as if a grasping , cold claw held against it, silencing the screams, muffling the cries. You try, as difficult as it is, to soften the blows, to steady the erratic heartbeat. You can't really breathe, so you take deep breaths to ease yourself, because you know that this is all pure foolishness. You laugh your pain away. It is, after all, all you can do at that moment. You think of your inanity, and you try to smile, because maybe by smiling, those tears won't fall.

But they have fallen. What to do..

What if someone told you it wasn't a lie. That it wasn't foolishness or pure childish stupidity. What if one day you realised that you never would believe that anything amounting to love can ever exist, and you try to comprehend how anyone can allow such vulnerability to seek into their souls and capture their hearts
with a look, with a word..

You scoff at them. They know nothing about this emotion.

Then one day, you wake up from your pathetic reverie, and you take a look at this wretched world, and you realised you're running the rat race as well..

What would you do.

Who would come to take you away from the folly of this world.

No one?

There is a dreaded silence that feels the void in anyone's hearts. We feel it, but we ignore it, and pretend it isn't there.


But how can we continue pretending?

__________________________________