A penetrating, apparent darkness
came over my consciousness.
It came to visit me after a long journey—
of experiences, of relationships, of painful passages.
My body covered in scars,
from a world that had always appeared to me
foreign, distant, threatening.
Before she arrived,
her visits felt familiar—
intermittent, brief; now permanent.
The dream of my life took a sudden turn,
unexpected, inexplicable at first.
Too much moral looseness?
Too much vital innocence?
Too much unawareness of what is real?
You didn’t warn me when you knocked on my door!
Once you settled in, you began to pull me away
from who I was, from who I believed myself to be.
You whispered a great unanswered question to me:
Why, for what, for whom?
I always saw my life as that of a warrior—
a romantic warrior who thought he knew
who he was fighting against, and that was true
until you completely clouded my destiny.
And now, after arriving exhausted,
I ask myself who I am supposed to keep being.
A gaze of God in this world?
A soul that thought it knew itself?
A soul that thought it mattered?
A destiny that believed itself coherent?
But the mirror in which I once saw myself
shattered into a thousand pieces, impossible to rebuild.
I had to stop, forced by circumstances,
forced by a muted scream in an enveloping darkness.
You came to me in search of answers,
and I had none to give you—
None to comfort you,
nothing that could hold you up.
You forced me to stop, to step away from the world,
to take an undefined pause,
to find out again who I am,
If I ever truly knew.
The mourning for my past life is slowly fading,
like the wax of a candle with a flickering flame,
like a centuries-old tree awaiting its death,
like a stream that disappears as it reaches the sea.
I don’t know how to understand you, grasp you,
Take your hand and walk beside you
on a new journey that awaits you
at the end of an unreal, apparent life,
with no reflection beyond myself.
Have I been nothing more than a specter, unseen by anyone—
not even by myself?
Life once appeared long and meaningful to me,
but it turned out to be fleeting, fragile, dissolved by
hundreds of storms, dark clouds, downpours,
separated by brief sunny days.
But is life rational at all?
Everything I live feels as if it doesn’t belong to me,
as though a dense fog had covered it all.
And yet a million memories have been written,
and every one of them now explains where I was headed.
I never imagined the breaking point I would reach.
Was I moving toward a dead end?
I cannot know—and it no longer matters.
Because the oasis where I now stand
wants to keep me alive, aware.
Why, for what, for whom?
With no apparent vital motivation,
I watch the days pass one after another,
without seemingly moving from where I am.
From this oasis, paths erased by the wind depart,
while I try to know whether a new path truly exists.
Feeling too much, knowing too much, understanding too much.
Have I been—and am I—an excessive soul,
placed inside a delicate, vulnerable, hypersensitive body?
A body with too many vital reboots?
A body whose voltage limiter has been exceeded?
oh my i felt that so much - they do say there is a type of person who is far more sensitive than the majority - i identify with that for sure - TY for sharing this incredibly emotional ride
oh my i felt that so much - they do say there is a type of person who is far more sensitive than the majority - i identify with that for sure - TY for sharing this incredibly emotional ride
Just as seasons pass, this too shall pass.
Feeling too much may be overwhelming, but remember to give yourself space to be calm and recharge.