come with me my love to the sea of love | february


We fell in love at the shore.

If the sea was the life ahead we were sitting in the sand, feet dipped in cold water, eyes set on the resting sun. The beach was our playground, the shore the stage where we would play our love. We were staying at the edge of forever with no intention of diving into the rest of our lives. Nevertheless, we stayed for the twilight. We watched the light fade into the water, slowly, patiently. The day was dying in the arms of the sea, yet all felt at ease.

There are many words I could have said then, before the last sun beams touched us, still I chose silence, my best feature. The golden hour suited him well and I wouldn’t dare to ruin it. He was laying in the sand, without a care in the world, picture perfect. I couldn’t bother to let him know how my heart was aching with every passing minute, how the indisputable briefness of our affair was slowly drowning me. I couldn’t fight it, instead I laid still, by his side.

We had been doomed from the sunrise, there was no denying, still we stayed for sunset. That’s a memory worth saving and a love story on it’s own.

can and will be used against you | february

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People will stay things that will stain you. Just because they said them doesn’t mean they’re true. I know that now. But now, I can no longer wash away the damage. I’ve tried (have I?).

I know that because I’ve heard said things and I know that because I’ve said such things.

Things were said to me that I haven’t forgotten. Words that came out of my mouth once still stab people I care for. That’s a knife I can’t remove. There is nothing I can say that will undo the fact that I’ve said them aloud. To someone else.

I’m one to think you are entitled to your own thoughts and opinions, but when you chose to say them out loud you become responsible.

Way to often I’ll refrain myself from speaking my truth, simply because it is only my truth. My perspective will always be tainted by my experience and that makes me untrustworthy. As it should. I’m one to think you should always take my words with a grain of salt, because I know very little about an immense amount of things. In order for me to speak openly (I rarely do so), I have to be comfortable (I never am). Usually, my words are measured, but even I, sometimes fall into comfort and share my thoughts. These words come from a place of vulnerability. Whenever I catch my self thinking out loud, I regret it instantly and these words become something I can’t ever bare to hear again. If I could go back in time and take back things I’ve said, I would without a blink. The idea of minimizing my existence is a pleasant one. If I could just be a slight breeze, I would. But we must all be hurricanes sometimes.

I used to have someone in my life that would use my vulnerability against me. I made a promise (an unhealthy one) to my self: I would never be caught off guard again. From then on, I would stop wearing my heart on my sleeve, I’d simply keep it on lock down. My heart and my mouth. So I did.

Hearing the words: You’ve said that … will always shake me to the core. No matter what follows. The fact that someone was paying attention is quite scary. The fact that someone can memorize what I said and potently allow it to taint their life makes me want to never speak again. For good and bad, I couldn’t never be permitted to have such a responsibility.

Seeing the damage my words can make will always burn me more that the things I’ve been told. I can shrug off the things I was told, sure I can’t always forget them, but I can minimize them. However, the responsibility that comes with blatant honesty is not something I can carry. Also, the backlash, it’s not something I can handle. The things we say are often boomerangs that eventually come back to hurt us. The fact that someone can hold that the of power over me is not something I can live with.

I still have scars from the words that were said to me, but the wounds that remain open are the ones from the things I said that ended up being used against me. Things I said in what I taught what a loving, safe environment were all were thrown at me at some point. And if you feel a sting on your chest when someone says something hurtful, wait until someone uses the words you shared when you were vulnerable against you. An entire crater will open in your heart.


This is the type of nonsense I shouldn’t be aloud to think. But I do. In retrospective I can see that it’s insane and wrong. I couldn’t acknowledged that it was nonsense because I was keeping it inside. I guess. It’s not something I should be thinking. But I am. It’s not something I should live my life by. But I do. The words you say can and will be used against you. Sonner or later. This isn’t just something I’ve been told, it’s something I’ve been shown. How could I forget that?

Loved you once | february

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I loved you once.

We were kids who didn’t knew better and jumped fearlessly onto cold water on hot summer days. I would tell you all about my hopes and dreams and we would drown our fears while we picked fruit from the trees of your grandma’s backyard.

I loved you twice.

In the bliss of our teens, we would kiss in the shadows of spring and hide from the pointing fingers of our companions. We were precious and only ours. We would say we were friends and hold hands behind our backs. We’d lie to protect the truth from unloving eyes.

I loved you three times.

As we said goodbye, I loved you the most. At the airport with teary eyes, wet cheeks and a runny nose, as they dispatched my luggage and you held me tight. A grey hoodie and fearful eyes. ‘It won’t be that difficult‘, ‘You’ll come see me and I’ll come see you‘. I spoke from the heart while I told you those lies.

I’ll love four, five, six times.

In the loneliness of my room, curled up in a sweater that belonged to you, with another boy by side, hand to hand with my past. I should know better by now, had I not loved you all those times before. The heart grows fonder in the distance and memories grow sweeter in time. You’ll always have my heart.

what goes on inside | february

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There’s this pit in my stomach, I didn’t knew a void could feel so heavy. I should be hungry but my throat is closed. Eating feels like a burden and not a necessity. It isn’t cold in here, how come am I shivering? My forehead is burning, my eyes are heavy, I want to sleep, but I’m restless. I can’t seem to find the right compass to breath. No deep breath is deep enough to slow the pace of this frenetic heart. I wonder if it will get better soon, I just wish I could stop existing for a bit. Where can I hide? I can’t move much, not precisely. I can’t see properly either, everything is blurry. It’s almost as if I’m not in sync with my body. Do I look okay? Because I feel unsteady. I wonder if it shows. I hope it doesn’t. I can’t really put into words how I’m feeling or explain why I feel what I feel. Truth is, I’m clueless. On top of everything, I’m clueless. I can’t pinpoint the exact moment when I started to feel like this. I can’t explain what’s behind it. I’m going through my mind and I can’t seem to find any plausible reason for me to be anything other than absolutely fine. If all the books are right, I should be fine. Why is it that I’m not? Everyone tells me how I don’t have the age, the look, the conditions, the everyday life of someone who isn’t fine. It’s frustrating that I’m feeling something everyone tells me I’m not entitled to. Yet I do. Why is it that I’m not fine? If I can’t find the answer, no one else will validate my uneasiness. And I’m so tired of being alone in this.

I’ll just lay down for a bit, this will pass eventually, maybe in a few minutes I’ll feel better. I’ll just exist quietly for now, to make up for the noise inside. In a couple hours I’ll get up with tired eyes and a fatigued body, but I’ll be up. And that’s something.

late mornings in love | february

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So it’s April.

Spring is late, the rain is pouring outside, and all I wish is for this morning to last for a few more hours. If I could turn back the clock, I would, just so that I could sit here soaking up this feeling again.

I isn’t love, it’s falling.

But falling slowly makes the heart grow fonder. There’s no rush, time isn’t ticking, the clocks to have failed to wake up this morning. There’s only you and I, and all that’s left to do is to fall in the middle of spring.

And if when the time comes we’ve failed to reach love, there will be no regrets, the arrival is secondary when the fall is this tender.

I think I’ll miss late lazy mornings for the rest of my life, and there’s no sweeter gift than the briefness of a perfect moment.

Come back to bed.

Let’s keep falling.


(a memory, 04.18)

A nice girl | february

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I went to college for a brief period of time, still I managed to find some good people there. There was this particular girl that really stood out to me. We used to catch the same train, although I’m not really one to start a conversation, we would sit together so often that we eventually befriend one another. Most of the times we would sleep through the whole journey, but sometimes we would talk about college, the books we were reading or just little nothings to fill in the silence. She was easy to talk to.

It was the beginning of my second year, from what I could gather her first year hadn’t been spectacular but she still thrived in spite of it. She was pretty, very quiet but approachable. Once you got to know her you would find out she was pleasantly nice and could even be a bit funny at times. Although she didn’t really seem to connect with anyone in particular, she got an invitation to all the gatherings. It was always a gamble, would she show up or not? But at the beginning of the second year, she started to show up. A lot. Everyone was excited about her different take on the new year and from outside, it looked like she was enjoying it as well.

Once, while at a party we talked briefly about it, she told me how she felt like she missed out on a lot on the first year and wanted to seize the college opportunity more. She sounded more cheerful than usual and had an excitement that would shine through her words. Still, something felt off. There was a certain emptiness in everything she said, almost as if she was convincing herself as much as she was convincing us.

I notice she started to stay over more often. She would go to parties and drink a little bit too much, she would get very talkative and slip up some information about her once in a while. No one really knew that much about her, so it was nice to find out little things. It still seemed like she wasn’t comfortable enough to talk freely, she didn’t want to talk about certain things, it seemed as if hopping she would forget them herself.

I really didn’t pay enough attention to notice when exactly it was that things started to turn south, but they did. She started cutting class so that she could sleep through the hangovers and she would only show up if there was a party later, otherwise she didn’t bother coming to college at all. Everyone still liked her, but her niche got smaller. She started to hang out with the girls that went out the most. There was nothing wrong with that, but it was a very different behavior from the previous year. You would see her often at six in the morning stumbling home, going through cigarettes like it was candy.

She ended up disappearing completely one day. We later found out she had a really bad break up. She was kind of alone, that boy often seemed to be the only reason she was still there and apparently that had been swept away. It was unfortunate that whole situation. It’s too bad such a nice girl would give herself up for a boy like that. I was always left with this sour taste in my mouth, I wish I could have been more of a friend to her. It seemed like she needed someone who would have dared to ask the right questions. She kept everyone at bay, so the truth is that there wasn’t much to be done. You can only get as close and someone will let you. I tend to do the same thing so I understand where she is coming from – the less they know, the less they can hurt you. But it also means that you’ll be left helpless eventually. And I guess that’s what happened to her.

I have no clue as where she could be now, but I hope she found her path and herself. I know that hindsight is 20/20 and what I know now I didn’t knew then, I can only learn from looking back. But I hope I can be more of a friend to the girls in my life today than I was to this girl before. Support them when they need it and call them out when they start to fall out of grace. Sometimes all you gotta do to help someone is dare to ask the right question.