Brushstroke Painting

 Why do I keep tearing my clothes apart—why do I keep exhausting myself trying to undo what’s already written? Everything has become so strange to me. I no longer feel the true worth of material things. Even the taste of my own blood feels strangely delicious. My senses are becoming more intertwined, and everything around me starts to compress. The walls shrink, the air feels thinner.

I find myself torn between two crossroads—becoming a better version of myself, or rising above everyone else. I can’t seem to find my place. Sometimes I even allow myself to fail, just so I can learn from my mistakes. But the more wisdom I gain, the more useless it feels—because I don’t just want to understand life, I want to transform that understanding into something meaningful.

At times, I argue with myself—not with silly phrases like “Oh, what a fool you were,” but real arguments. Brutal ones, like a fight for survival where the weaker version of me would end up in tears. I know I’ve been too hard on myself. I know I should take things more calmly. But tell me—isn’t it true that the more you try to make things better, the harder they get?

Life keeps testing us, pushing us to make it or break. Sometimes you even fall back on things you thought you’d already mastered. And without realizing it, for the hundredth time, you find yourself in the same place—but this time with more experience. Maybe even in a better state than before, though you don’t feel it. Life won’t congratulate you; it just gives you fleeting moments of satisfaction—seconds if you’re focused, maybe two hours if you procrastinate—before it pulls you back into the endless routine.

Worrying isn’t the answer—it just becomes another worry. Eventually, when your senses settle and your need to stand out fades, and you feel full of life again—that’s the moment you have to let it all go. Let the breeze take you. Let the waves carry you as far as they can. Become one with the ocean and drift, even if it feels like it might all end. Just enjoy it—because after everything, you deserve it. You deserve peace, relief, and calm.

Become the ocean’s mist. Fill your lungs with the air around you. Feel—truly feel—and let yourself be felt. Let your breath melt into the evening. Let the night be serene. Find in your dreams the happiness you haven’t found in waking life. Let every brushstroke paint a smile, a glimmer, the firelight of a sunset. If you can tame your mind, picture yourself as the best version of you. Be the one who looks down upon that creation. Explore every corner of yourself—you know that beauty lies within. And the more you allow yourself to feel, the more you’ll make the most of the time that’s meant to be enjoyed.

Once again, I return to that moment—hiding from the truth of my own words. But reason has taken over. The same reason that won’t let me move forward to embrace what others call “the best.” And honestly—who even wants the best? I just want to be. To exist and let others exist. To open myself up and let life flow through me.

In the end, the choice will always be mine: to take what’s meant for me and let go of what isn’t. It’s enough for me to know I’ve never wished harm on you. I leave with a clear mind, a calm soul, and a peaceful heart. Maybe I said a harsh word or two—but I never meant to hurt you. I just needed to release the fury you made me feel. Don’t take it personally. People act, and they usually know what they’re doing—even if they don’t realize that their actions hurt. And sometimes the wounded carry that pain for the rest of their days.

That’s why we shouldn’t overfill the bags we carry. The emptier they are, the lighter they feel. The lighter the load, the less your back hurts. And oh, poor back—it’s carried me since the day I was born. If I keep piling on more and more weight, I’ll grow old with a crooked spine, unless I finally let go of what no longer belongs to me.

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