How little you know about happiness, you comfortable people.

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Happiness depends on ourselves, simple as that. OK. You didn’t get it. Say it again. And again. And again. You’ll get it eventually.

I’ll never understand, why we want to be so much loved if we are not able to love ourselves enough to be happy. I’ll never understand why do we think that we are not enough to live this life alone.

There is a short answer, that no one wants to agree with. “You don’t love yourself”.

Why people walking on this life feel broke, unhappy, disappointed, miserable, lonely? Why do they keep having this hope that there is a happy ending story waiting for them and the only one who can change whatever they feel is their soulmate?

Meeting your soulmate it’s a really special moment. You always want to shine on your dates. Don’t you? And if you are having an empty heart, hollow body, numb soul, and if behind your eyes there is more darkness than a blind man can see, if you soul bleeds every night when you go sleep. Do you really want to share a bead full of pain? Behind your fake smile, you become a vampire that is ready to suck all the life from your soulmate. You’ll kill him/her even if you lie that its love.

A love story, because of the intensity of feelings, presents to you your most raw and vulnerable. You get down to the heart of yourself. It’s not pretty. It’s not happy. It’s not bright and shiny. it’s messy. And it’s painful. And it’s an identity crisis. A mirror showing you every part of yourself you’re ashamed of, that you hate about yourself, that you wish you could hide away. It’s nakedness. It’s beautiful. And it’s miserable.

Date yourself, take yourself for dinner, for a dance, for a movie, for long, but long walks. Find out what you enjoy to do. Cry and look at you from the corner that no one looks. Laugh so bad that people around you will call you crazy. Dance so deep, as your bones make love to your muscle. Teach yourself, something new, every single day. Take long, but long walks that your feet hurt. Don’t say anything for a day, week, see how that feels. Forgive yourself. Do it again, and again. So you create a connection, so you feel butterfly every morning when you look in the mirror. Talk to you, ask why, how, and when. Make love to you, spiritually and physically. See what is your extreme, where you want to be touched, how you want to be. Create that connection that whoever comes in your life will never be able to unplug it. Whoever comes in your life will become a guest to admire your own paradise, and you will welcome it with a wised heart, patience soul, and the same way you’ll let them go, knowing always that happiness is only about you. 

You don’t need anyone to be  happy, but you might want to share your light, your ocean of art that lives in your veins, you might want to share the beautiful, innocent smile, you might want to share and give in a pure way, a little bit from love that you have for yourself.

Before meeting the one, you already should carry a tremendously heavy soul, full with love, isn’t that how you are gonna give it? Do not give it all, and people that want all of you, they are unhappy people that will dry your inspirations, that will unplug you from your soul. Run from them, as soon as they ask all of you.

When you love yourself, there is a neverending river inside of your blood, there is so much energy around your body, that you’ll never get bored, alone, or sad. Imagine yourself as you are the man/woman you always dreamed of, then why would you be so sad with yourself? I know it’s the way we were built with this wrong illusion that at a certain point you’ll win it all. It doesn’t like this, it never did.

Happiness is not in the heart of the best relationship you ever had, or in the luxury things you own, is just an art of your own soul. We all can have it.

 

 

 

 

 

To my fingers’symphony, or Piano’Soul.

Piano Man by Slinkster-Bat

There is such a piano epidemy that no one wants to talk about, just a few people survive. We don’t choose them, this mysterious instrument chooses us. Once is in your blood, your life is poised with a forever art, that can’t be healed. We all have a piano inside of our soul, but not all of us can go so deep and see.

I met a Piano’s soul last night . I have this feeling that I met him in another life. My soul recognizes him. His fingers makes love with the piano. There is not need to be jealous. Some people can’t hear the screams of his soul, as it is a background that he is trying to cover with the music he makes. Wait, is not just music. Is a way for his soul to heal, clean, love, find the peace. He has tied piano strings to his heart so that every time it beat it didn’t sound so empty inside. As soon he is there, playing it, there is not a body anymore, or this world living whatsoever, there is his naked soul, fragile, crying, screaming. He feels cold, hot, lost, fulfilled, there is a life that he is giving to his piano’s soul. Each key is an emotion, a life that he makes, healing sound for the ears of his heart, deep feelings of him. He will start soft, like summer rain, or gentle as a kiss under the moonlight, but he’ll always end as a storm, harsh words, so deep as you watch two bodies on fire, feeling each inch of the love he makes it. He can’t take half, he wants it all.  For each note ended broken, and every key was abused, loved, pressed too hard. His soul riched the sky.

Can you feel the silence of his own exhausted breath, and can you feel how his piano is resting with him in this dark and empty room? Do you hear the echoes of the walls that can’t talk, still can feel?

I’ll learn how to listen to his silence between his innocent smile, and make my own story. Not sure if it feels good to know that this story is gonna be here forever.

Shhh..don’t say anything. We all create art in our own ways. Just close your eyes and watch with me, everything they can’t see, listen and feel it.

Close your eyes, God knows how much space is between his souls.

His eyes are like full moon on late September, with sadness in the corner that no one looks. His eyes are just a clean mirror of his soul, a deep ocean after a storm trying to calm down. Looking into them is like making art. Would he be able to keep the sparkle from his eyes forever? This ocean of him that no one learns how to swim. Would I be able to see him forever, the way I saw him this night ?

I am not afraid that it won’t happen,

I am afraid that will happened and past

As sometimes a star just falls and extinguish.

 

My Emily.

24f0c106-060c-4f8c-acae-ac4a1d393421It took me a while to post about her. Because sometimes when you love someone with such a power, you are doing in silence, without sharing.

The most beautiful things in life don’t have a price. We can’t buy them. We can’t see them. It is more an ability to embrace a feeling from the root of your own heart. Once we understand this, we can count more things that bring beautiful aspects of our everyday lives.

If someone ever asks me, what is the most beautiful thing in my life? I’ll say, is not a thing, not a place, is my own creature. I made it, and God, I never knew that will come in such a perfect shape.

On 08-18-2017, I gave birth to the most amazing, beautiful, sensitive, inspirational, and magical girl. My daughter, Emily. I call her a gift of love. I never stop telling her how much I love her. I love her when she wakes up at night when she looks for my hand to massage her when she cries when she wants 24 hours in my arms. I love her when I am extremely tired. I love her when she laughs when we dance, when she started walking, talking. I love her unconditionally, and I don’t ever want it back.

The first time when I saw her, it was magical, a combination of pain and happiness. A combination of reincarnation. God was touching my soul. I felt that at this moment I either die or become stronger. I created magic on earth and hurts. After that, it wasn’t me anymore, it was US since the day she came to this world. I felt that her skin is my skin, her soul is a piece from mine, her heart is what I live for. She is the one that knows it all, how I am from the inside. My eyes were the only shape of the sea she saw for the first time. I knew it, I had to make it all magical. Since then, I never stopped smiling and praying at night.

She is my world. I never knew that it can ever feel this way. She is beyond beautiful, she is a ray of sunshine that never stops shine. She is a walking soul on this earth. Her innocent smile, the way she looks at things, the way she eats, the way she needs me three times per night, the way she wakes up in the morning. Her smell is a walking spring on my heart, I can’t get enough.

She is a drop of my reflection, a curly blonde hair, blue eyes that whole sky drown in it, and soft, soft skin. She is always happy, even if she falls. At this age she shows me that she is intelligent, she understands me and what I ask for. She is a strong, and super healthy baby. A little bigger for her age. She is what I call home, love, peace, beauty, soul. Every moment I have had with my daughter is precious. I take hours and hours to watch her, to admire her. A little human being is able to change my world, to give so much power, love, and beauty.

Right now, I am the moon and the stars to her. And her to me. She looks at me like I’m the smartest, most beautiful, amazing person she’s ever met. She is always looking for me, and how happy we are when after school or work we see each other again.

There is that kind of love in life, that it so much in your veins that you are afraid, so afraid to lose it. How to describe this kind of feeling? Because it’s an ocean of words, I didn’t learn how to swim yet.

Now, think again? Are the most beautiful things in the world things that you can buy, or visit, or own. It might be, we all are different. For me, is more a feeling, a powerful feeling that last forever, that feels even if you are not around, it is always in your mind. It’s my own creature, that I chose to make. It never stops to grow, and I am in charge to give the light, the love, and the wisdom. 

I believe she is special, and I believe when she grows up when someone will ask her what are the most beautiful things in the world. She will know where to look, in her soul!

Silence.

silence by hypnothalamus

They said silence is gold…but they lied,
Silence is the reason you care, don’t deny!
Something up there is walking untold,
Something up there is walking powerfully broke.

It’s the slowest punishment,
It’s that echo that screams and you shout.
Silence takes more power than just some words
Silence breaks you apart, tears down, leave you lost.

Silence is the chills in your spine,
Quiet sensitive at night.
Don’t think silence can’t talk,

Empty clock.

Silence is saying what you afraid to say.

Silence is a chosen way.
She leaves you like a stone bone, ice soul, dry lips.
But wherever you walk, you leave your empty fingerprints.

How mad are your words inside of your veins?
There is a feeling inside, no one explains.
You want to scream out, you want to cry aloud.
Your soul looking at us, not quite proud

There is a blizzard inside of your heart, soon enough you’ll see,
Are you going ever to be free?
This silence is brooming everything you build so far,
Hold on on your weapon, I know silence makes you truly powerful for this war.

It takes a lot to just sit and look at how your fire burns everything inside of you.
I feel your cold. How hollow are you?
Yes, words can hurt us, don’t get me wrong.
But silence destroys us, and leave us stories untold.

 

imagine : hypnothalamus

 

This November there seems to be nothing to say.

Untitled by Lover-and-the-Wild

November you are my favorite color. You are always the late folk that is unremembered. Cold but gentle. Some people don’t get your purpose. Because you are not for everyone.   You are the judge of fall. You are the look of hunger in a man with heat, is enough to lift an old woman from her knees. As a piece of confusion, he’s been looking for. He was declining to die, but now he’s coming back for more. The speculation of an old man when gets you apart, you can’t see what is coming, but there is a tree standing all stick and bones. You are a blind joke, which purpose is not to make you laugh. You are the saddest of the year. Of wailing winds, and naked woods with foggy air. You are the confusing echoes of people screaming and birds crying for homes. You are a closed window with fire in eyes. You are a weak heart of which injury was made back in spring when everything is born, and it blows in the summer, fulfilling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the coolness thunderstorms come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone. You count on it, rely on it to buffer the passage of time, to keep the memory of sunshine and high skies alive, and then just when the days are all twilight when you need it most, it stops. What an old soul you are, barely can move but never wants to die.

This November there seems to be nothing to say.

Our souls don’t sleep at night.

The Somnambulist by NataliaDrepina

Time they said… Time will heal all wounds but they lied.

 So, you go on, with your broken parts, trying to find someone to fix them. No one can fix, or heal, or bandage you.

– What about me?

-Is this the part where you start tearing off strips of your shirt to bind my wounds? If you wanted me to rip my clothes off, you should have just asked. I know you can kiss my wounds with your soft lips that can numb them. But the numbness is not forever. Because to heal, you have to get to the root of the wound and kiss al the way up. The only thing that could heal that deep scar is me by taking you there.

– Do you think you are strong enough?

– Stronger than you. I know by looking into your eyes. I can see frustration, nervousness in your red veins; you can’t hide your sad part. You are transparent. Whenever you feel you can be happy, sad, joking, high. But for me, I am always a happy smile with sadness in the eyes. The good part is, nobody looks there to see.

–  Why are you always happy?

– I am not. I am just stronger. My soul is a hidden piano that plays at night by a blind little girl. My soul is crying while I sleep. He is mourning in quietness so nobody can see, hear or feel. Crying without words, in peace. Slow, as a late rain in the middle of the summer. He is letting go all my pretended smiles, all my thoughtfulness, all my issues, everything that my body is trying to deceive. Down to the river, while everyone falls asleep.

He is doing gently because he doesn’t want to wake me up. He does not know that tears sometimes leave marks on my face. This loneliness of my soul crying at night is like a balm for the wounds in my soul.

For Women Who Are “Difficult” to Love’

Sadness by FabriziaMiliaPhotos
He compares you to an impossible highway
to a burning house
Says you are blinding him
that he could never leave you to forget you
want anything but you
you dizzy him, you are unbearable
every woman before or after you
is doused in your name you fill his mouth
his teeth ache with the memory of a taste
his body just a long shadow seeking yours
but you are always too intense
frightening in the way you want him
unashamed and sacrificial
he tells you that no man can live up to the one who lives in your head
and you tried to change didn’t you?
closed your mouth more, tried to be softer, prettier, less volatile, less awake
but even when sleeping you could feel
him traveling away from you in his dreams
so what did you want to do love? split his head open?
you can’t make homes out of human beings
someone should have already told you that
and if he wants to leave then let him leave
you are terrifying
and strange and beautiful
something not everyone knows how to love.