Un fel de bilant

Mi-au trebuit 25 de ani ca sa. Ce sa fac eu cu toti acesti ca sa? M-am gandit sa-i ordonez aici, sa-i triez, sortez, analizez si mai apoi sa concluzionez. Dupa ce concluzionez, firesc ar fi sa actionez. Cale lunga, dragii mei. La unele concluzii am actionat si mai rau am facut. Deci, cum sa procedezi? Sa le lasi sa vina de la sine, aud voci soptite. Sa faci exact cum simti, spun dragii de pitici ai mei. Sa treci prin viata ca gasca prin apa, si-asa ce rost are? Hop, stai, ca eu nu ma pot aresta la domiciliu cu resemnarea mioritica.

Firesc, ca sa-urile, le trec mai jos:

1. (ca sa) imi dau seama ca oamenii chiar nu-si suporta confratii cand sunt deprimati. Deprimarea si tristetea merg pana la un anumit puncticel, pe care-l infioara si-l satisfac in ceea priveste natura umana, care se stie ca-i curioasa, ii place sa traga cu urechea, sa-si gadile un pic self-estime-ul, ca, nah, eu o duc mai bine sau ca, nah, stiu ceva ce tu nu stii sau ca, nah, traiesc si eu pret de cateva secunde in universul cel paralel, dar cand nu imi mai convine, ma teleportez inapoi la senzationala mea existenta, pentru ca puncticelul a fost zgaltait de-a binelea. Merge sa fii suparat si sa o arati o vreme, pana cand nimeni nu se mai incarca de ale tale, fiindca le are pe ale lui. Deci, fara deci, zambeste, maine poate fi mai rau! (Imbecila chestie: daca maine va fi mai rau, cum sa mai zambesc stiind ca maine o s-o dau in bara? Sau zambesc asa in avans, ca dupa aia n-oi mai putea?).

2. (ca sa) imi dau seama ca responsabilitatea e povara grea, n-o duce nimeni, maxim exista cateva exemplare care fac ping-pong cu ea.  Fugim de rupem pamantul, c-am facut destule si suntem indreptatiti.

3. (ca sa) imi dau seama ca decizia mea aplaudabila de-a face ordine intre prieteni si de a-i inlatura pe cei care-s acolo numai asa, de forma, m-a lasat de una singura. Adica, prietenul la nevoie se cunoaste. Ce-i tampenia asta? De ce la nevoie? Daca ei vor la petrecere sa se cunoasca, ce avem noi cu ei? Eu m-am luat dupa zicala, eroare. Nu faceti asa, ca-i mincinoasa. Oamenii au foarte multe nevoi, pe care nici ei nu si le cunosc si daca tu-i selctionezi in functie de asta, ei cum or sa afle? M-am hotarat, de azi prietenii mei se cunosc la petrecere. Adica de Craciun, Pasti, niscaiva zile onomastice. In rest, fiecare cu nevoi.

4. (ca sa) imi dau seama ca stam unii cu altii fiindca ne proiectam dorintele si asteptarile in persoana de langa noi, fiindca noi fugim de responsabilizare si asumare, si, cand aceasta da gres, rezultatul e tragi-comic: mai spalam o soseta, facem o ciorbica, tragem o palma si uite ca trece vremea.

5. (ca sa) imi dau seama ca eu cer foarte multe de la persoanele de langa mine, adica eu cer atentie, grija, sinceritate, trebuie sa am si ce vorbi cu ele, ca well..., cand rontai o samanta mai trebuie sa si impartasesc una-alta. Gluma la o parte, sunt dura, nu fac compromisuri si am o lipsa de incredere fantastica, pe care lumea o interpreteaza ca indiferenta, orgoliu sau mai stiu eu ce alta trasnaie. N-am incredere, mi-e frica si prefer sa-mi reprosez mie, cand mi-e rau, sa-mi plang mie, pentru ca am convingerea ca in momentul in care as lasa garda jos, cineva mi-ar lua capul. S-a si intamplat, de altfel.

6. (ca sa) imi dau seama ca daca as zambi frumos si-as face cu mana, lucrurile ar sta altfel.

7. (ca sa) imi dau seama ca urasc cuvintele sonore, care incarca, urasc sa mi se spuna lucruri, mie imi place tacerea. Cand am sa spun si eu ceva, e clar ca o sa fug rupand pamantul sau o sa mor interior pe loc, urasc felul in care se sparg cuvintele de pielea mea si lasa urme, pe care orice-as face nu le pot sterge. Imi plac cuvintele nerostite, dar alambicat transformate in gesturi, fapte, mangaieri, cuvintele intemnitate, fiindca nu le-ai aruncat in lume si le tii in tine, cuvintele nevorbite, trimise in zbor printre gene ca o pulbere magica. Tacerea aceea calda, care are grija de tine si-i acolo si-o sa fie mereu si-o sa-ti transpire prin pori, astfel incat s-o poti imparti cu cel de langa tine, licoare fermecata, care o sa va transforme in niste fiinte inaripate in universul vostru construit cu grija.

Eu am mai multe ca sa-uri. In timp ce le insiram, m-am lamurit: e un moment cand simt ca s-au terminat toate, dar nu-i momentul cand nu mai pot, pentru ca in capul meu ii aud pe dragii de pitici: faci exact cum simti, da-o incolo de treaba, uneori mai si doare, dar ce bine-a fi cand te uiti in jur si vezi ca in toate e un pic din sufletul tau?

Mirrors

Take a good look in the mirror. Do you recognise who you see? I watched a show once where a girl was told to look herself in the eye in her mirror and count to ten. She counted to three and then burst out crying. Of course, it was a TV programme. But that didn't stop me from trying it in front of my bathroom mirror that night.

I think, generally, life can be divided into cycles or phases. Simplisticly, I call them the 'up' cycle and the 'down' cycle. The 'up' cycle is basically when I feel the gods are smiling down on me. Everything fits. Everything feels great. The sun shines. The birds sing. You get the idea. The 'down' cycle is like a rainy day that never ends.

Sometimes these cycles are a direct result of the decisions we make. Sometimes it's something that happens which you have no control over. I guess then that's where the words.. 'God grant me the strength to change the things I can change, the serenity to accept the things I can't and the wisdom to know the difference' seem most apt. The problem with me is, I think I can change everything, the wisdom kicks-in often slowly and thus resulting in acceptance which is often belated.

If our behaviour like Freud said is governed mostly by the unconscious mind, it would mean a lot of the decisions I make come from a hidden place that I am not aware or mindful of. And with that comes the need to blame others for my failures, insecurities, fears, disappointment and hurt. It is so easy to.

Taking responsibility for my own actions is hard. It would mean admitting I was wrong. Something I hate being. It would also mean that I have failed. Not the best place to be either.

I came to a realisation recently, that I may have wasted 2years of my life being hung-up over a guy who wasn't "right". Probably wasn't even right from the start. I have blamed everything about him, from the mixed signals he seemed to permeate, to the things he said and then didn't, and the things he did for me and then to me.

But what about me? What role did I play in the equation. Although I say I want to take responsibility for my part in this, I'm not exactly sure what for? What I do know, is people only treat you the way you allow them to treat you. And I allowed him to get away with a lot. But why? Out of love? Fear? Habit?

The landscape we function in is constantly changing. The people you let walk into your life. And the ones you decide to let walk out. The loss of someone dear to you. The pleasure of new found love. It shifts your outlook, it shifts your behaviours, it moves you out of a comfort zone and makes you want to react in new ways.

For now, I've been moved out of my comfort zone. It's tempting to sneak my way back in. Denial takes centre stage in that zone and it infuses a false warm, cosy feeling. But despite what Freud said, I'm trying to make this a conscious choice.

So here's to strength, wisdom and serenity!

In romana despre...Mirona

Nu mă interesează un bărbat decât în măsura în care cred că-l stăpânesc ca femeie, în care cred că sunt pentru el, într-un moment din viaţă, o fiinţă unică, de neînlocuit. Ştiu că sunt femei mai frumoase decât mine, dar asta nu are nicio însemnătate, fiindcă oricât de frumoasă ar fi o femeie, se poate totdeauna ivi alta, care să fie şi mai frumoasă; dar cred că poate exista o adâncime sufletească, o sensibilitate, o inteligenţă care pot însufleţi în aşa fel un anumit fizic, care pot crea o feminitate infungibilă, amalgam unic de însuşiri de neînlocuit, cel puţin într-o clipă dată, pentru un om într-un anume climat sufletesc. (Panza de paianjen,Cella Serghi)

Magic Day

Maybe every once in a while things fit perfectly.

Maybe there is a certain time that only lasts for maybe a second, where everyone, everywhere is happy. Maybe there are ways that one person can be happy without making someone else sad, or ways someone can make someone else happy without making another person sad.

Maybe one day everything will fit perfectly, and until it does. We’ll go on hurting people, making others happy, being happy, or being sad. Wasting our lives trying to figure out what if, or why not? Trying to find ourselves and when we finally do, realizing the journey was more important than what we found. I can’t say when, or if it will ever happen.

But the day will come where everyone everywhere will be happy, and it when that day comes. That day will be splendid.

In honor of nice girls

This is my tribute to the nice girls. To the nice girls who are overlooked, who become friends and nothing more, who spend hours fixating upon their looks and their personalities and their actions because it must be they that are doing something wrong. This is for the girls who don’t give it up on the first date, who don’t want to play mind games, who provide a comforting hug and a supportive audience for a story they’ve heard a thousand times. This is for the girls who understand that they aren’t perfect and that the guys they’re interested in aren’t either, for the girls who flirt and laugh and worry and obsess over the slightest glance, whisper, touch, because somehow they are able to keep alive that hope that maybe… maybe this time he’ll have understood. This is an homage to the girls who laugh loud and often, who are comfortable in skirts and sweats and combat boots, who care more than they should for guys who don’t deserve their attention. This is for those girls who have been in the trenches, who have watched other girls time and time again fake up and make up and fuck up the guys in their lives without saying a word. This is for the girls who have been there from the beginning and have heard the trite words of advice, from “there are plenty of fish in the sea,” to “time heals all wounds.” This is to honor those girls who know that guys are just as scared as they are, who know that they deserve better, who are seeking to find it.

This is for the girls who have never been in love, but know that it’s an experience that they don’t want to miss out on. For the girls who have sought a night with friends and been greeted by a night of catcalling, rude comments and explicit invitations that they’d rather not have experienced. This is for the girls who have received a drunk phone call just before dawn from someone who doesn’t care enough to invite them over but is still willing to pass out in their bed. This is for the girls who have left sad song lyrics in their away messages, who have tried to make someone understand through a subliminally appealing profile, who have time and time again dropped their male friend hint after hint after hint only to watch him chase after the first blonde girl in a skirt. This is for the girls who have been told that they’re too good or too smart or too pretty, who have been given compliments as a way of breaking off a relationship, who have ever been told they are only wanted as a friend.

This one’s for the girls who you can take home to mom, but won’t because it’s easier to sleep with a whore than foster a relationship; this is for the girls who have been led on by words and kisses and touches, all of which were either only true for the moment, or never real to begin with. This is for the girls who have allowed a guy into their head and heart and bed, only to discover that he’s just not ready, he’s just not over her, he’s just not looking to be tied down; this is for the girls who believe the excuses because it’s easier to believe that it’s not that they don’t want you, it’s that they don’t want anyone. This is for the girls who have had their hearts broken and their hopes dashed by someone too cavalier to have cared in the first place; this is for the nights spent dissecting every word and syllable and inflection in his speech, for the nights when you’ve returned home alone, for the nights when you’ve seen from across the room him leaning a little too close, or standing a little too near, or talking a little too softly for the girl he’s with to be a random hookup. This is for the girls who have endured party after party in his presence, finally having realized that it wasn’t that he didn’t want a relationship: it was that he didn’t want you. I honor you for the night his dog died or his grandmother died or his little brother crashed his car and you held him, thinking that if you only comforted him just right, or said the right words, or rubbed his back in the right way then perhaps he’d realize what it was that he already had. This is for the night you realized that it would never happen, and the sunrise you saw the next morning after failing to sleep. 

This is for the “I really like you, so let’s still be friends” comment after you read more into a situation than he ever intended; this is for never realizing that when you choose friends, you seldom choose those which make you cry yourself to sleep. This is for the hugs you’ve received from your female friends, for the nights they’ve reassured you that you are beautiful and intelligent and amazing and loyal and truly worthy of a great guy; this is for the despair you all felt as you sat in the aftermath of your tears, knowing that that night the only companionship you’d have was with a pillow and your teddy bear. This is for the girls who have been used and abused, who have endured what he was giving because at least he was giving something; this is for the stupidity of the nights we’ve believed that something was better than nothing, though his something was nothing we’d have ever wanted. This is for the girls who have been satisfied with too little and who have learned never to expect anything more: for the girls who don’t think that they deserve more, because they’ve been conditioned for so long to accept the scraps thrown to them by guys.

This is what I don’t understand. Men sit and question and whine that girls are only attracted to the mean guys, the guys who berate them and belittle them and don’t appreciate them and don’t want them; who use them for sex and think of little else than where their next conquest will be made. Men complain that they never meet nice girls, girls who are genuinely interested and compelling, who are intelligent and sweet and smart and beautiful; men despair that no good women want to share in their lives, that girls play mind games, that girls love to keep them hanging. Yet, men, I ask you: were you to meet one of these genuinely interested, thrillingly compelling, interesting and intelligent and sweet and beautiful and smart girls, were you to give her your number and wait for her to call… and if you were to receive a call from her the next day and she, in her truthful, loyal, intelligent and straightforward nice girl fashion, were to tell you that she finds you intriguing and attractive and interesting and worth her time and perhaps material from which she could fashion a boyfriend, would you or would you not immediately call your friends to tell them of the “stalker chick” you’d met the night prior, who called you and wore her heart on her sleeve and told the truth? And would you, or would you not, refuse to make plans with her, speak with her, see her again, and once again return to the bar or club or party scene and search once more for this “nice girl” who you just cannot seem to find? Because therein lies the truth, guys: we nice girls are everywhere. But  you’re looking for a quick fix, a night when you can pretend to have a connection with another human being which is just as disposable as the condom you were using during it.
So don’t say you’re on the lookout for nice girls, guys, when you pass us up on every step you take. Sometimes we go undercover; sometimes we go in disguise: sometimes when that girl in the low cut shirt or the too tight miniskirt won’t answer your catcalls, sometimes you’re looking at a nice girl in whore’s clothing - - we might say we like the attention, we might blush and giggle and turn back to our friends, but we’re all thinking the same thing: “This isn’t me. Tomorrow morning, I’ll be wearing a t-shirt and flannel shorts, I’ll have slept alone and I’ll be making my hungover best friend breakfast. See through the disguise. See me.” You never do. Why? Because you only see the exterior, you only see the slutty girl who welcomes those advances. You don’t want the nice girl.. so don’t say you’re looking for a relationship: relationships take time and energy and intent, three things we’re willing to extend - - but in return, we’re looking for compassion and loyalty and trust, three things you never seem willing to express. Maybe nice guys finish last, but in the race they’re running they’re chasing after the whores and the sluts and the easy-targets… the nice girls are waiting at the finish line with water and towels and a congratulatory hug (and yes, if she’s a nice girl and she likes you, the sweatiness probably won’t matter), hoping against hope that maybe you’ll realize that they’re the ones that you want at the end of that silly race.

So maybe it won’t last forever. Maybe some of those guys in that race will turn in their running shoes and make their way to the concession stand where we’re waiting; however, until that happens, we still have each other, that silly race to watch, and all the chocolate we can eat (because what’s a concession stand at a race without some chocolate?)"

Food for Thought

"Selfish people might be embarrassed by you. While they're using their time and energy almost exclusively on themselves, they see you giving time to others, and your kindness puts them in a bad light.

Maybe they'll think you're a phony, that you use your altruism to get others indebted to you so they'll then owe you a favor. Or perhaps they'll accuse you, directly or behind your back, of focusing on the needs of others so no one ever focuses on your foibles or your genuine wounds.

All of these are false accusations; yours is a genuine compassion, because you truly have a tender heart. One criticism might be more substantial, though. People might notice when you let things get out of balance and spend so much time responding to others that you neglect your own needs.

Perhaps it's true to some extent that you are more comfortable when the focus is on someone else's needs than when you and your needs are front and center, and this may be a criticism worth paying attention to."

Scratches...

I buy things and I keep them clean.
I take care of them.
Keep them in a special pocket.
Away from keys and coins.
Away from other things that should be kept clean and taken care of as well.
Then they get scratched.
And scratched again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
Soon, I don't care about them anymore.
I don't keep them in a special pocket.
I throw them in the bag with everything else.
They've surpassed their form and become nothing but function.
People are like that.
 I meet them and keep them clean. In a special pocket.
And then I start to scratch them.
Not on purpose.
Sometimes I just drop them by accident or forget which pocket they're in.
But after the first scratch, it's all downhill from there.
I see past their form.
They become function.
They are a purpose.
Only their essence remains.

Wildflower

Louie L’Amour once wrote, “There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. That will be the beginning.”
I have come to that time. I have believed everything finished. I have been unable to rise up from my knees, unable to catch my breath, unable to open my eyes. I have pressed my hands against the dirt and prayed, begged, for it to give way, to collapse beneath me and suck me in whole, to bury me soundly into oblivion. Anything to make this hurting stop.

But moments like that, they pass. The human brain isn’t built to withstand prolonged agony. There’s a threshold, and I never really knew it existed before because I used to bail waaaaay before I reached it. I never realized or knew or believed that if I just stayed inside the horror of the moment long enough, just held on, it would slip away. It would end. I would win that round. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t come right back around again (and again, and again) when I’m least expecting it and drop me with a single stab, but I don’t run from it anymore. I let it come, I let it pierce me, and I let it leave. And each time, I’m a little bit better for it. Each time, I accept my part in it a little bit more. I start to accept the truth for what it is, not for what I wish it was.
And in return for my humility I get these glimpses. Glimpses of something lovely, something unknown, something rich with magic. I look around this new space where I am now, startle at the unfamiliar noises in the night,so foreign to the new girl growing in me…. I note these moments (without self-pity, without blame, without anger, without judgment, just for what they are) and then suddenly I get the gift of a flash, a vision of something I don’t yet know how to explain, and I smile.
There’s a sweet and unexpected freedom in knowing I know nothing, that I`m not in control, that maybe what  I thought was real and good and vital never really was because I don’t actually know how real and good and vital a thing can be. Except I do know.
Because amidst all this unfamiliar I cling to the things that are–the spines of my favorite books,  the spines of my best girlfriends bent over in laughter, my own spine against a bathtub wall hot with steam and tears. And in those flashes I get a glimpse of what life-giving really means, and it’s only a glimpse because maybe I`m not quite there yet, not quite ready, but I’ve seen and felt enough to start to believe it’s probably true, what they say, what I’ve secretly rolled my eyes at all these years, what I’ve pitied in other alone people when I’ve heard it, this, that what really matters more than anything else, where the love really lies, the place and person that’s dependable and constant and real and good and vital, is Me. Me!!!.
And, as David Whyte writes, “anything and anyone that does not bring you alive is too small for you.”
This song is on my running playlist. I save it for last, now, just as I’m rounding the part of the new trail where the sun breaks through the tree canopy and the gravel mouth opens to spit me back out onto the pavement. I’m going to keep on running, keep listening, keep watching, keep feeling, keep holding onto spines, until I believe.

Butterfly

I am neither here nor there; not then or now. I am magically lost in a butterfly daydream. It is a world where time does not exist, and the scenery and landscape are anything that I dream it to be - because the land of the Butterfly Daydream comes from within the deepest part of me.

A butterfly can sit delicately on my fingertip at any given moment of time asking timidly for me to come and play. It flies around me, circling me, tickling my ear, performing a sweet dance in the air around me. It seems that much too often, I cannot always come in to play, sometimes I must send it away, but always with a promise that the dance will begin again soon.

Upon entrance into this fascinating land, all else around begins to fade and I become lost in the land of my solitary kingdom. The landscape begins to transform, and once again - I am neither here nor there; not then or now - I am flying, dancing, and singing - in the land of Butterfly Daydreams.

The song plays on and with each note from the violin, a Kaleidoscope of butterflies join the dance. No butterfly exactly the same, they come in varying sizes and colors, some dazzling brightly, others singly quietly in the background. Each of them, in the act of their creative dalliance, teach me to fly.

Dreaming

It took a really long time for me to try and grasp what I really wanted (in the past)… (or want… I could still be looking you know… tenses… )… ‘coz it turns out that my neediness tends to change from time to time… but if I ever learned anything from my self discovery, it would be that the goals that you choose for yourself aren’t absolute… the standards you set could either be reduced… heightened… or even revised completely… my point (finally…) is that time changes everything… it doesn’t stop or slow down even if it is to lengthen the lives of those on their death beds…

So with the limited time that we’ve been given I’m thinking that it might not be possible to meet all our plans with success… plus considering that life doesn’t always give us what we want   I guess it would be safe to keep our version of reality in check…

Now I’m not saying that it’s wrong to dream… what I mean is that not all dreams come true… and what I’m really trying to say is that the dreams that don’t make it into reality are much more important than those that did… 

The reason as to why the dreams that don’t come true are more important than those that did is that these are the dreams that keep you moving forward… although witnessing the happy ending to your dream feels great… probably  awesome even… eventually that feeling will fade and you will soon realize that the moment will be far behind you… and if you want to compensate with the quantity of dream-come-true-s you’ve got… it wouldn’t make that much of a difference…

So after getting to the end of the rainbow… what next?

Moving from one dream to another is no good…’coz if you did…  you wouldn’t be any different from a machine processing spam…having that one distant dream to motivate you while time passes you by is probably the best thing that you could ever get in a lifetime… having that, you at least get the bragging rights to say that you’re living for something… it doesn’t really matter what… the important thing is that you’re living… an unachievable long term goal may seem unreasonable… but at least it’s never short-lived… ;

So… the unreachable dream?!

You might be thinking that it might be a bit depressing to have a dream but never actually see the end to it… we’ll it could be… but for me I’d like to think that it’s only a matter of perspective… and more often than not… it’s more important to understand how you see something rather than knowing what you’re actually looking at… 

My dream?!…

“If it wasn’t for the natural law of gravity… I would fly…“

Absurd as my dream may be, it pretty much explains what I want… (of course it is a metaphor,  but seriously… even without the semantics… it’s really an awesome dream… )… by “gravity” I meant anything holding me back… and by “flying” I meant the reward of going wherever the wind takes me… (or...who knows what getting up in the sky by you ouwn and just ...fly...means)

                                          

                                       Even in a cage… a bird can create his own sky…

Comparrison

Have you ever felt that compared with "everyone else" around you, your own circumstances are the worst? Do you have thoughts like "all my mates have achieved this, done that, have this or have that"? I'm now exploring this phenomenum of measuring myself with another person's yard stick. Where does it come from? Is it parents, peer pressure, the society as a whole or just my own unrealistic expectations?

It's probably a mixture of all four. On one hand, it drives me to want to achieve more and more (sort of like healthy competition) to ensure that I can boast too, but on the other hand, it makes me think "What's the point? That person just had better opportunities than I have". Like when you hear of your classmate in uni who is now a millionaire, or your friend from high school now running her own fashion empire. You are happy for them of course, but you also compare yourself and you end up feeling very small.

I think it starts when we still are young. You are put in a classroom with 15 or so other 3-year olds. There you are expected to all be at the same level, grow at the same speed and learn at the same pace. If for any reason you don't keep up with the rest of the class, then there's a problem with you. This pattern continues throughout life. You want the latest toys because "everybody has one". You want to wear a certain item of clothing because "that's what all the other kids are wearing". You want to feel like you are similar to everyone. Yo find yourself constantly looking around and checking to see if you are ahead or behind of your peers. Then you grow up and suddenly you realise that some things are outside your control. Your career is progressing very slowly meanwhile your mates have soared far ahead. Or your mates are getting engaged, married, and launching babies while you are still single. Or your friend has just bought a new flat, while you are still renting or living at home. It all adds up to a perfect recipe for frustration.

But why do we compare? Are we all given the same opportunities? Did God give us the same talents? Do we have the same circumstances? Do we all have the same goals? Do we have the same experiences or backgrounds? No, no, no and no. We don't even have the same genes!

So I've decided, from now on, I'm not going to compare myself with anyone else. I am me. I am unique. We all have our time and purpose to fulfil on earth. My time and purpose is not dependent on other people. Only God is in full control. And only God will I give the ability to push me forward.

New...word of the moment

Some times I feel I can conquer the world and I realise in a glimpse of a second how much "Wow" potential I have. Even more, I realize how lucky I am to be myself and having the chance to live everything that I`ve lived, good or bad as well. I am here, alive and well in this very second and I have the opportunity to wake up and see the light outside everyday, and in the same time feel the light inside me growing brighter and brighter with every step I take. 

What s more amazing is that this light is so determined to keep shining despite all the walls I build around it.

It`s scary, I must admit it, and even more when I wake up knowing that the "I" that I am today is so different from yesterday`s...so much wiser, grown up, peaceful, strong, happy and ready to take one step further into the unknown, guided by the yellow bricked path.

The demons are still lurking around - Fury, Anguish, Fear, Anger, Shame, Sadness...but I decided to invite them at the table and listen to their demands and allow them to show me their agenda. Eventhough I lack communication skills when talking to them I am everyday surprised to see how they become more friendly, calm and ready to show and explain me the reasons they exist and most of all, the good intentions that they hide under those scary masks. I am almost tempted to name them my tutors because I`ve learned so much from them even thought I am only half way of the road. 

But I must not forget my two trustful, loyal companions and beloved friends...Hope and Love that support me even in my darkest thoughts and hold my hand each step I take on the slippery path of revealing my true self and living my own life.

Thank You ,

Me.