Coming Back to Myself
All my life, I’ve only fought and survived.
For months, I tried, planned, organized, worked relentlessly, amidst chaos, consumed by my own suffering and the growing pain of the world.
I fought. Against injustice, against the world’s silence, against forgetting, against rejection.
Against myself, to please, to be accepted, seen, tolerated.
I wanted to act, change the world, awaken consciences, give voice to the silenced — while silencing my own.
By shouting too much, I lost my own voice.
By trying too hard to convince, I lost my peace.
By resisting so much, I forgot why I stood tall.
And all for nothing: you can’t reason with fools or drunkards.
You only feed their ignorance, hatred, contempt, and give them reasons to fight us.
While breaking yourself in anger, rejection, and loneliness.
I had to hit rock bottom, once again, to find that fragile, sacred thread:
that of my deep self. Alone, but alive.
I don’t want to fight anymore just to exist.
I don’t want to harden myself to be heard.
I don’t want to twist myself to fit into boxes or formats.
Because I only end up hurting myself, exhausting myself facing the void.
I want to simply be.
Create, without justification.
Write, without strategy.
Love, without masks.
I have no shame for who I am or what I do.
I have nothing to hide or deny.
It’s not my shame to carry, not my place to hide.
I don’t have to scream to be heard or seen, because I only need to be heard or seen by myself.
So this blog will be my refuge.
A place where I lay down my thoughts, my wounds, my impulses, my intuitions.
A place without algorithms to please.
A place where I can be myself, even if no one watches.
And if someone ever passes by — maybe you — I hope you’ll find an echo,
a soft light in the world’s noise.
Welcome to this new beginning.
Welcome to this silence that speaks truth.
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