The Fool, acrylics on canvas, 05.25.18



Still listening to City of Stars on repeat. Painted this last night. I was still trying to practice some floral moves for my mom’s birthday present, but I lost all control. The song drove me there. I love my story behind this painting, but I won’t share it out loud, just so you have all the room for your own interpretation! 😉

I’m not as proud of it as of my last painting(click here if you haven’t seen it yet), but like I literally just said, I love what it tells and it’s pretty colorful which feels good to look at. And yet, there’s still a little bittersweetness that linger in the back of my mouth when I look at it.

Until next post, keep dreaming through the storms! ❤


The Fighter in Me


I’ve been a waste of space lately. Let’s be honest; this isn’t an overstatement. A piece of shit. My demons have gotten me really down and I’ve been a lazy leech just feeding on nothingness.

I got down and I stayed down, figured “hey, I’ll just bury my head in the ground for a few decades, no big deal” because I just couldn’t take this life so I just tried my best to ignore the fact that I exist. I was having an existential crisis and I just couldn’t be bothered to actually deal with it or with any of the storm’s bullshit so I just looked away.

However, yesterday (which is now two days ago) as I got out of the bus (I took the wrong one) and walked (while texting my anxiety away, narrating my stupidity to my bff) in a haste (I was late) to my therapist’s office (what a pretty messy morning, I swear), I heard a tiny *click* coming from the back of my head. As I raised my eyebrows and my eyes grew to be the size of the moon, I realized something.

Somehow all this early morning anxiety and lack of sleep had managed to trigger the right switch and unlocked a tiny little door from which came a revelation. I didn’t have much time to actually even begin to touch it with the tip of a finger that day because I was so tired. When I got back home, just slipped on my good ol’ depressed pants and trustworthy “what’s the point” shirt and faded to black once more.

But today; I mean, yesterday (what is time, I ask, what is TIME), I was getting really excited about going outside to explore a nearby place which I pass by when I take (the right) bus to see my therapist (who’s actually a nurse??). So, as I waited for the sun to just stop being so sunny so I could step out and do the adventure thing without burning to my death, I actually had time to let the revelation sink in. And just as I was ready to walk out the door, I had to jump on a piece of paper and pen to scribble all the words that just rained on me as it suddenly hit me and I saw it.

I saw the fighter in me.

I’ve been hiding, running away and just bathing in denial, forcing myself to ignore pretty much all that there is to life. I had completely given up on trying and was looking very seriously into giving up on everything and settling for a life into the nothingness. And yet, even as I, on the surface, was giving up, it was here in me and still doing its job. The fighter in me, that part that just doesn’t know how to give up and always fights for my life, even when I feel that I’ve indeed given up.

When I sat at my desk that morning the day following the *click*, I realized that, even though if not as intensely as I was supposed to, I indeed thought about those things that I was trying so hard not to think about while I was “wasting my days away”.

I was convinced that I had managed to give up for once and that I truly was on my way to that impossible reality where I don’t bother nor believe in dreams, light and a greater use of my time on beautiful Mother Earth. I truly thought that I had manage to kill all the light left inside of me and to be honest, I was actually happy about it. Because, let’s face it, this whole existence and fighting against the current to do things that you love and be a bigger “you” it’s just so exhausting and frustrating; so, managing to give up was actually a relief.

Now I wouldn’t have to worry about energy. I could be tired all the time and it wouldn’t matter because nothing would matter anymore. I could just bathe in darkness all year long and just lie on the floor, wait for the lightning to strike me and put an end to the joke. Nothing mattered. I had succeeded in taking away all of the anxiety triggers, all the problems, all the overthinking, all the horribly demanding efforts to go against the storm to do all those things and also all the good stuff like love and vegetables.

I don’t wanna be a musician, an artist with four arms that do all these different things and doesn’t suck at them. I want to be a mashed potato without seasoning and extra extra extra cheese and a nice side dish of “nope; I don’t life”.


Turns out that I was right when I thought that it was truly impossible for me to give up and that time I said that even when I was giving up, I wasn’t. I just didn’t know HOW RIGHT I was.

I tried my best to keep my mind busy and not think about real questions and about me. I managed to satisfy the apathetic monster inside, feed him all the junk it wanted and become it BUT in the mean time, I also managed to keep fighting in the right direction in a way! Of course, it wasn’t a super effective fighting as there was so little of me involved in the war which is why the *click* took so long to happen. But it was still fighting.

I fed the monster and let it invade the foreground so that I could find a place inside where it was calm, oh so calm, and I could actually think of my life without any parasite.

My choice of distraction could have actually given it away that I was truly just finding a less direct and brutal way to face those questions. And it did. But just after the *click*. I realized that the things I was obsessing over in order not to deal with an overwhelming life, decisions to be made and that crazy wish of living life were, deep down, helping me think exactly about what I was running from.

The fighter in me, the part of me, the spark, that will never stop fighting against the coldest winds that assault me or that I will willingly let in to freeze my soul. That part that, even when reduced to such a tiny size and beaten up, can still stand up for me and what I believe in and resurface, always, and shush the monsters back to their dark corners. (For a while at least, just enough time for the soldiers to get back to their positions and protect that fragile soul)

Now, I haven’t completely gotten rid of the filth that I smeared all over my weak flesh prison. But I’ve been feeling that spark and it’s slowly melting the grime away and bringing some heat back in the main circuits. The fighter is swimming back up. Ha ha! And well, now my laughs don’t just sound like a sound that I send to bounce against the walls and fill up the room with some “nothing wrong here” vibes. I feel less dead. And ready to put myself back on track again.

“You live and then you die, what’s the point anyways, right?” That just doesn’t sound like me. Now, I don’t know if it’s depression or any other part of the storm and I don’t care. I know it’s not me. I don’t think this truly. I’m a stupid child and I believe that there’s more to life than slowly dying as oxygen poisons us. I believe in love and in making dreams come true. And I believe in light in the darkest places. And I BELIEVE.

I might be a fatalist to some extent but I’m what I like to think of as an absurdity, a convention of paradoxes. I always find myself at both extremes at the same time. I’m a fatalist but also an optimistic and a pessimistic and a believer and a skeptic son of a blurp. I’m everything and nothing. But I’m not a person that gives up or one that doesn’t see the magic and beauty in life and beyond.

And now that I’ve slapped myself in the face several times and am slowly waking up from a dead man’s sleep, I can see it again. These words that I spoke, thought, while I was this unseasoned mashed potato (Ha ha, I’m sorry x) I’m almost done, bear with me! :-p ) weren’t mine. I don’t know which demon spoke them but they weren’t mine.

The fighter in me is a real part of me. Those demons and the storm are also a part of me but they don’t define me. They are not me. They are what I believe to be essential parts of the weather in me, the rain that rocks me in bed and make rainbows possible. (You need ups and you need downs, light and darkness; there needs to be a balance in things, this isn’t a happy fairyland where all is well.)

They are parasites but I need them and I cling to them. I need them here but they aren’t part of my identity, they are just these little dark monsters that keep this universe running.  But I am not by any means them. I am not the embodiment of my disorders and, as much as they affect my everyday life and constantly torture me, they are not part of my identity. I consider them parts of me in a way, part of my universe but not me.

Anyways. It’s going to take me a few days to truly get back on my feet and get rid of the bullshit I’m covered in. But I’m getting back up and that’s what matters in the end. I think I actually really needed this time on the floor and horribly dark fake happy days! It’s funny I guess in a way haha

So, I think that’s it. I’m glad I finally managed to get all these thoughts out of my head! I started writing this at 1AM today (which explains the confusion with time at the start of it! 😉 ) and now it’s 6PM. No, I wasn’t writing all this time! I slept and I’m still having very slow days. Recovery is a process and honestly, I was really on the floor so it takes some time to get back up and this time longer than what I’m used to. But yeah, I’m finally done getting it out of my chest and I can actually even more internalize the information now. It feels great.

I’ll end this post on a quote from Fran Bow ( a video game I obsessed over during my little “holiday”, let’s call it this from now on!). I don’t remember which character said it but I’m pretty sure it came from the journal that she found somewhere Idk. I think it’s really fitting with this post and well, off I go fixing myself up!

I don’t need to hide from pain anymore because it’s part of me.

Love is everywhere and in everything.

I enjoy crying.

I enjoy laughing.

I enjoy being alive.

Until next post, don’t lose yourself and keep looking for the light. It’s always there. Even the tiniest spark is enough to keep you going. There’s always light, somewhere, look around, in someone, in something, in the sky, anywhere, anyone, anything. And if you don’t see any light, then maybe think about opening your eyes? Maybe you don’t see because you’re not looking at it the right way. Or maybe you are the light and it’s hard to see yourself shining as you stand in the dark.

Keep running. ❤

P.S.: I, of course, still haven’t re-organized my blog and the categories are still pretty messy. But I’ll get to it eventually, don’t worry! And also, the little walk I had in the “park” that I discovered near where I’m staying was truly refreshing. There were so many ducks and I found two cats that let me pet them and aw, man, I felt really good out there! And I’m planning on going there again, maybe making a point of going every Sunday or so. 😀

Midnight coffee to “unwaste” the day


It’s 11:11PM as I type this and I just made a cup of coffee, and it reminded me of this beautiful song! Check it out:

This should be a short post but there’s a 99% chances I end up writing way more than I intended to! Ha ha!

These three girls are amazing, huh? One of the bands I grew up with. Love them! 🙂

So why would one sane person make coffee at such a late hour?

  1. Who said I was sane?
  2. When is late really late?
  3. I completely fucked up this day(and the previous one too, actually) and I want to make up for it.
  4. I’m getting really tired of my own shit.

There you go. This is mostly it.

That storm, whatever shit it is full of, won’t leave me. It’s stuck with me for most of my existence so far and well, it’s one of the few things who never fails to be there. And no, that’s not a good thing.

After so many years of dealing with it, you’d think I’ve gotten better at this and can easily dodge the waves. But let me make it simple: no. It just doesn’t work that way. If I could just turn it off or ignore it, I would all the time. Believe me, I love turning things off and ignoring things. But I can’t.

Not so long ago I got called a fake by a person -I’m glad got the fuck out of my life- who had no idea half the things that go on in my tiny bag of bones after I had one of my first ever real big panic attack. Funny enough though, it happened one night I made coffee at midnight because I wanted to pull an all-nighter and draw! “Funny”. I just seem to never learn and especially not from mistakes – can I blame it on hope? Hopefully I won’t have one tonight; I’m already tired enough.

This is isn’t fun at all. When I pick up my guitar and my whole body feels weak and my mind yells that me “What’s the point? I’ll never be good enough.”, it hurts. It’s not fun to have all the passion and interest you have in things torn from your hands, especially when those things are the few things that keep you going, fighting on. How could I fake not wanting to do the only things I feel I’m meant to do? Why would I? Why would I not sing for a whole day willingly? Why would I lie in bed for a whole day and not eat willingly? I love doing things, I love eating, I LOVE PLAYING MUSIC. And I need to to feel okay. It is not enjoyable to have zero energy and finding out that nothing has taste anymore, to not feel anything at all. And it is not enjoyable to be so powerless facing such a deadly storm that actually comes from within, from yourself. How could it be funny to pretend that my body and mind are waging a war against each other and against me and that I’m the only thing standing in the way of my personal sunlight BUT that I have no way of stopping anything? Whatever.

So yeah, back to the point, I think… These last two days(and maybe before but I can’t exactly remember things right now as I’m in this period where I have completely no notion of time – everything is just a continuous line and well, I don’t think in days or anything)I’ve been waking up at 11AM again which is a bad enough thing to do for someone that has dreams to make come true but, on top of that, I’ve done nearly nothing at all the rest of the day. So yeah, I’m done. I’m stopping it right now. I’ve done that a lot in the past but I can’t afford wasting any more time! So, I’m trying to apply the whole self-discipline to… well, myself! I’m not sleeping tonight(maybe a little nap tomorrow morning before my last exam -finally!) and I’m gonna do things! The worst part is that I’ve started many different things and that’s exactly when the waves decided to hit me and I let them throw me face first to the floor. Fuck that.

I’ll barely sleep between now (11:47PM) and tomorrow’s exam (1PM) because I spent all my day lying down on my -broken- air mattress. I’ve got to make up for it. I’m not so mad at myself either because I, for one, understand why is it that I couldn’t pick up the strength to do things. I don’t have absolute power on those things but I can, and I know it, gather enough strength to pick myself up and stand while the waves hit. Not because it’s bigger than me and stronger and takes away most of what make me a human being means I should let it throw me to the ground and not get back up.

It’s not always easy. And it’s okay to fall now and then, I can’t be strong always when it comes to this; it’s not just simple laziness(I kick laziness’ butt and spit in its face!). And it’s also okay to spend a whole day lying in bed when the waves strike out of the blue(I feel pun potential in this…). But I’m in this alone, for the most part, and I’ve gotta learn to pick myself off the ground and fight against the current. It has hit me way harder than that and I already had two days laying down doing shit sooooo yep, all-nighter and unwasting time that got lost in the storm.

Alright, I should stop with this post now and get to work. It’s not exactly an interesting one anyway. 😛

Needed to get that out


I’m definitely having a big issue with my Booksie account right now which makes it impossible to access any of my work posted on there. I have no idea what’s going on! I sent a mail in hopes of getting answers; am still waiting…

When trying to log in, they tell me I have no account and if I try to create a new account, I’m being told I already have an account registered with my e-mail address. So, I’m quite lost.
I won’t hide that it’s quite of a kick in the face and it got me a bit down. I put a lot of time creating a little community on Booksie, I’m really not that big, but I know there are people expecting to read my works. And it sure hurts to see all the time you invested in something vanish so suddenly and for no apparent reason. If I did something wrong I’d like to know what it is.
Now, it’s not like my works were lost because of course I have a copy of everything(I’m not crazy to the point I’ll trust a website to keep the only copy of anything that took a lot of  my strength to create). But the thing is I really put a lot of my time in that website, creating bonds and even though I was still a tiny thing in the huge web of writers on there, it doesn’t feel good to be thrown away like that. I would like to at least know why I seem to have been wiped out of their website. I’d like to know what I did wrong. I know myself, I know how I work, and I know that if I don’t get a reason(and even if I get one, actually), I’ll think about it every single night for the rest of my life and it’ll always end up the reason why I can’t focus on something at some point in my life. But still if I’ve been banned or anything, I want to know why.

Safe to say that being unable to log into my account last night and feeling so helpless triggered my “anxiety” or rather the storm inside as I’d rather call it. For it is far from being a real anxiety as the simple word “anxiety” refers to but it’s more like an eight of that but mixed with eighth or quarters of many other different dark clouds. So it’s more like a storm. A big huge hurricane full of so many different things that devastate the dry lands of my mind.
It’s kind of hard to explain especially right now as I’m tired as fuck. But yeah. This tiny little event was enough to shake the dust and now the storm is awaking again. Just when I thought I could make it through the month without having to face any of this dark bullshit inside. I’ve started shaking (moderately) again and slept at least three hours overall last night. I hope it calms down. I hope I get a mail from Booksie and the problem is fixed. I hope the storm leaves me alone a little bit longer.

I’m not ready.