It’s the constant flow of life that keeps me going, the way it always pulls me back. As long as I keep doing the only thing it tells me to, which is in fact simply keep going, doing, breathing - inhale, exhale - I know my heart will go on well.
I keep the dawn company as the sky is turned into a painting of pink and crisp air, sitting cross legged on the ground, closed eyes, no sound. It takes a lot, some times, to stand the lack of everything else but the simple act of breathing. Inhale, exhale, I am I am I am.
As long as I do my part, my heart will do its part.
So it’s the constant flow of life that keeps me going,
for I’ve been down in the darkest lumps too many times and I’ve bought tickets back home, put up ads for my guitar and few belongings because I’ve been done. Done with myself and them and all the rest and I’ve been too ashamed to leave my room, too scared to say yes and too damn stubborn to reach those hands willing to help me up,
but there is something about the constant flow of life that keeps me going.
As long as I do my part, my heart will keep doing its part.
I was born in the cold with the winds and the snow and a Winter Girl I’ve always been, still am and always will be for it’s in my blood, you see,
but there is something about the way my mind switch, a little more each day, nowadays, and I don’t know if it’s just the time of year.
The time of place and month and year
or the way he says my name
or the way I like his ways
how he takes his place
in this world
or the way he simply are.
Or maybe it’s just the summer deceiving my soul but still I am surprised when I catch myself making gestures to the moon, saying hi and goodnight. My own ways. The contradiction I never figured out.
I’d like to give the credentials to my friends that they deserve,
for I was done and numb and nowhere to be found. Unwilling to go or stay or anything else and I was done. It was a long winter and my bags still unpacked, both for the lack of travel and for the lack of coming home, so I slept on the floor with three layer of clothes, dry and cold as stone.
People are everywhere and most of the times in my way, blurring my views, but still they are as rare as simple mornings for I’ve never been someone to join or simply go along.
People are rare for people like me for I tend to stick to myself when the day comes to its end and I have my habits and routines, so I keep to myself, hidden well behind my shell and I am constantly torn between the will to be seen and still
hidden so god damn well,
a contradiction I never figured out.
So when someone gets close enough to see and hear and simply not walk right through
it affects my very self and all my ways
for people are rare
for people like me
and I ’m tired of always running
I just simply like his ways.
How he says my name
and the place he takes
that he is
in and of itself.
Anyway, it is the constant flow of life, the way it always pulls me back when I tell myself I’m done and finished, ready to go back. And once again I keep finding stop signs on the roads, saying”where you think you’re going. You’re not finished kid”, telling me to stay and stop and go
all at once
and I am torn between the will to be seen and stay hidden well but it is something in the way he,
or this, or that, makes me feel okay. A bit better every day.
As long as I keep doing my part, which is simply keep going, doing, breathing - inhale, exhale - I know that my heart will do its part and I will go on well.
So I believe in the constant flow of life.
The way it always pulls me back.
People are people. Don’t be afraid of them.
nobody can save you but
and you’re worth saving.
it’s a war not easily won
but if anything is worth winning then
this is it.
think about it.
think about saving your self.
— Charles Bukowski
— Dig Yourself
Q:You are such an inspiration to many inspiring musicians (me included)! I love all your works c:
Thank you so so much, messages like this keep ME in inspired :) Xx