Doing what is right

Not always easy, not always what you want to do.
Doing what is right takes effort, strenght, willpower.
But those are traits shown in those who accomplish their goals, make their dreams come true.
You look at the clock and realize that you should have started doing what is right quite some time ago.
Fret not, its never too late to start doing what is right.
Start off small, do little things and slowly escalate it to the bigger things in your life that you know you have to do right.
Eat right, sleep right, commit to what you like, spend more time being productive...
And always enjoy, for doing things the right way will bring satisfaction no matter how hard the task was, no matter how much time you had to spend.
For me doing what is right sometimes involves doing things i dislike, but i know the goal is well worth it.


On the world as we knew it

such a small word that meant the whole world to us
we trusted everyone, we trusted everything
and when that trust was betrayed, we were left with nothing but ourselves
they took away our family, our jobs, our lives
and replaced them with needs of their own
We trusted them to guide us
We trusted them to help us
They used us
They abused us
They sent us to war for an ideal bigger than ourselves
Many believed that, many more died for it
Those of us left
We moved
We adapted
We waited for the storm to blow over
And when the Funghi hit the sky we knew our hopes had been placed on individuals not worthy of Trust

Our tears fed the starving soil of the wastes for the first time
And our lives began anew with more uncertainty than ever before


One step forward

"K, now everyone follow me 'n dont make no noise"
Malcom slowly opened the door and quickly glanced around to see if there was any danger in our proximity.
"Coast is clear, move it"
Without wasting a second we scurried out of the building and followed Malcom into the abandoned streets of the town.
The sun shrouded by a thin layer of dust, the mild temperature and the subtle breeze gave the scene a sense of eerie.
Malcom raised his right fist, turned around, signaled that there were two banshees behind the left corner of the building ahead and waited for us to catch up.
"We gotta find a way 'round, no way we takin' those witches with no weapons"
We nodded silently and awaited instructions.
Malcom had spent quite some time in the wastes and thus was deemed most suitable to filll the role of the leader of our small group.
You could have almost asserted we were a small freak show troupè:
a cowboy, an amnesiac, a daemon and a ghost.
My mind wandered off for a bit and fantasized about our success on the road and all the shows we could arrange...
"No day dreamin'" Malcom roughly nudged my arm "Plenty adventure in the real world"
And he was not mistaken, the banshees were prowling on the streets searching for their next victim, which could eventually be us were we not careful enough to evade them.
I casually looked around and caught a glimpse of a glass bottle not too far away from our position.
I signalled Malcom about the whereabouts of the bottle and he nodded as soon as he had seen it.
"We could use it to distract 'em, but gettin' it is trouble itself" he whispered.
Truth is, the bottle was almost in the middle of a crossroad and one of the roads converging there was the one the banshees were patrolling..


Recollection of rememberances

It was hard being alone in the room...
Writting helped, the ghost helped, the daemon helped in his own twisted way, but it was lonely and sometimes depressing.
And yet i look back fondly at the memories i made back then, at the writtings i produced back then, the time spent in solitude, the confort of being shielded off the outside world.
There was a strange feeling of delight knowing that no matter what, i would be safe here.
Out there... i did not know what was out there and frankly i had no intention of finding out at first, everything i needed i had in the room.
My spirit of adventure got the best of me though and i left, but what i found was not what i expected.
But what exactly did i expect anyway?
Before being locked away the world was doing not so well, so why would that have changed in my absence?
A bitter place this world is, not by itself of course, but by the people that inhabit it.
People fighting over matters so trivial in my young eyes... and still trivial in my old eyes.
They say that war never changes, but they are wrong...
The one that never changes is manking, thus making everything stagnant.
War doesnt change because humankind does not change...
Where do i stand amidst this madness?
Do i want to change how the world works or die trying?
Or do i want to live my life with no regard of the world, doing what i want to do till my time is taken from me?


Enjoying the small things

As time went on and i got older, i learned that the best way to enjoy life was to learn to enjoy the small things, the things that happen in your everyday life and that are easily done or obtained.
That way you will get a little boost every day that will make your day brighter.
For me it was writting.
No matter if in the darkness of the room, the wasteland, the metropolis...
The sound of the pen scratching the paper always somehow managed to soothe me and invigorate me.
Seeing the characters come to life after the ink left the pen somehow seemed magical to me.
And the best part was that it was something i could do anytime for as long as i had the pens and paper at hand, which in the end was almost 100% of the time.
Many dont understand that writting, the act of writting to be precise, can be so enjoyable.
No matter what comes out of the act, wether its a story worth keeping or just another writting experiment gone wrong, it always makes my day brighter, my soul lighter.
My point being:
try to implement in your everyday life something small but significant to you so that it fills your day and gives it meaning.
It helped me a lot through the hardships i had to endure...



It is funny to look back sometimes, see what you had to do to get to where you are now.
I try to avoid that as it brings forth one too many bad memories, but still I can't refrain from doing so.
Looking back, it all makes sense, like a little line of pebbles that stretch from the start of your journey to your present.
But back in the day it all seemed confusing, it all seemed strange, it all seemed... alien.
I still feel alienated from time to time, i look at the pebbles and some dont seem to follow the pattern the others do, yet they hold their rightful place firmly as to confirm that they have been placed there for a reason.
I look back at all the white pages i filled with my thoughts, my feelings, it all makes sense, it enlightens me.
Lost as I was in myself, i could have never imagined a way out of there, yet here i am:
Walking the street as any other man, enjoying the simple things in life, the things that truly give meaning to it, still writting, still fighting, still sharing, for sharing is what started this journey, and sharing it will end.
For now... I dare you to find me before i tear down the fabric of this distopia.
Best of luck to you in your journey


"He cant be serious, can he?"
"How should I know?!"
"I mean... there is absolutely no way for him to be here, is there?"
"After all I have read, I can most certainly say I am ready to believe anything at this point. Think about it: how did his writtings get here in the first place?"
"I assume the police caught wind of them and decided to lock them up so noone could get acces to them"
"What if... What if he locked them inside here on purpose?"
"Yes, what if he locked them here on purpose so that nobody besides people like us would find it?"
"Hm.... never thought of that"
"Maybe he really is here..."
A rattling sound startled them both.
"It cant be..."
A mouse quickly made its way into the gutter.
"Just a mouse..."
"I almost got a heart attack..."
A voice behind them startled them for a second time
"I think the best time to have one would be right about now!"

They quickly turned around


On the art of flowing characters

What is writting?
Is it conveying a message?
Telling a story?
Sharing an experience?
For me, writting was a little bit of all of the above. But most of all it was laying bare what i felt inside. It was also a tool to help me better analyse and process the events that were happening all around me.
No matter what I wrote or what had happened, seeing it on paper, having put it to paper, it somehow felt like i was reading someone elses story and so i could give myself advice.
In my darkest days i could not write everything down, it was too overwhelming, too deep.
Daring to stare ones own abyss in the eyes...
I still remember those days on the wastelands, having to struggle every single day just for the night to arrive and then to repeat the cycle over and over again.
Having left the dark room with all it enticed, it had food, heat...
But as harsh as the conditions got, it somehow felt that anything i could get from the scarce resources i could gather was more satisfying.
I depended on myself, i had to take care of myself, i had to survive each and everyday.
It felt good...


When doing something new

Nothing is easy if it is new to you.
Your environment changes constantly and you have to adapt to it or you have to shape it to cater your needs.
When starting something new, dont give up easily, be persistent, be active, try to improve.
No one will tell you that it is easy, and no one can tell you how rewarding it might be.
Dont just dream about something working out or hope for the best, work for it, work towards it.
Make a schedule and keep it, adapt it when necessary, for you and only you, when being honest with yourself, can measure wether or not you are actually doing as much as you should.

The first step is the hardest, and the ones that follow might be just a little bit easier.
But each step should be in itself a reward.
And the last step, the most rewarding of your entire journey


Every step I take

I have come to fear doing new things...
I used to love it, doing new things, exciting things, going on adventures so to speak.
It meant taking a step forward, not always knowing which direction or where it would take me, but a step forward nevertheless.
Now i am affraid, for every step i take takes me closer to somewhere i dont want to go: Death.
Everything new i did brought me closer until i felt i was dancing a mortal tango with lady death herself, exchanging daring glares and sensual strokes.
I dont want that, i dont want to bring death closer to me, i want it far away, over the mountains, over the seas, in a dark hidden cave from whence it will never emerge to take me.
I have come to fear doing anything and everything, for anything i do might take me closer, so here i sit, in my dark room, and wait for the inevitable while i try to make that timespan last for as long as i can.


Lullaby for a princess

Dear sister,
i write to you to tell you of the burden i had to bear for so many years.
As day and night passed, the darkness in me grew ever greater seeing you become as popular as you did while i carried my sorrow in silence, the dark side of the moon i had become, hidden from plain sight.
I wished for my hate and sorrow to dissapear, but my struggle bore no fruit.
On the contrary, it increased my suffering and desire to gain all the favour you had.
After every smile i faked i had to cry myself to sleep.
You were great, brilliant, so... everything anyone could ever wish for.
Outgoing and kind...
I was reserved, introverted...
I tried everything i could, but weeks passed and nothing changed, i thought about talking it with you, but what could you do?
You tried to love me the way you knew best, but it served only to wretch me even further.
My destruction approached, my reneval did too.
Through the clouds i saw the moon, the only friend i could rely on in my troubled times, a friend with whom i spent an eternity after that fateful day in which i challenged you...
I wish for our reconciliation, i wish with all my might and i know we will somehow manage, as we are part of something even greater thatn ourselves.
After these thousand winters i came to understand that we were both needed.
My dreams rest in peace inside me, i know i will achieve them, i always knew i would, but i now know with wich means they will come true one day.
Thank you sister, thank you for everything you did back then and do every day to help me recover from my sorrow.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H4tyvJJzSDk my source of inspiration this time)


For the greater good

For the greater good many sacrifices are made, many lives lost, many dreams crushed.
For the greater good, or the alledged one, is for which we would invest all we have.
It is for this reason many spend restless nights thinking and many days working.
We need to focus, as the greater good is not something to tread lightly with.
What is the greater good, is there really a greater good?
Is it part of a greater good to sacrifice others? For a greater good we cannot even prove.
Is the greater good the needs of a few? The needs of many? Or the needs of us all?
Is the greater good the needs of the human race, or the needs of te entire ecosystem wich we inhabit?
Do not tread lightly on such words
For the greater good may not be what you have been defending and believing in so many years.
Will the individual good bring about the greater common good, or will the common good bring about the individual greater good?