I do my thing, and you do your thing. I am not in this world to live up to your expectations.
And you are not in this world to live up to mine.
You are you and I am I,
And if by chance we find each other, it's beautiful;
If not, it can't be helped. - Fritz Perls
I must confess—I fear nearly everything…
Until I discover, once again, that I truly fear nothing.
And on that day, I grow a few millimeters taller as a human being.
That first kiss? Always the scariest.
The second is better.
But no two kisses are the same.
Each one brings its own rhythm, its own mystery,
its own storm to weather.
And those challenges never go away—
not even after a thousand nights of kissing.
I don’t blame.
I don’t forgive.
Not myself, not others.
I’ve come to believe that no creature—earthly or divine—has the right to judge.
I only try to understand.
Everyone. Everything.
I am not religious,
but I hold great respect for those who believe—
in someone, in something,
in everything, in nothing,
in one invisible god or a crowd of ancient spirits,
in divine order or universal chaos.
To me, they are all seekers.
Each one reaching for truth,
not knowing they know nothing.
I am heterosexual, yes—
but more than that, I’ve discovered I am simply… sexual.
It took years of misunderstanding myself to arrive at this clarity.
Like sushi, fresh mozzarella, and a well-aged wine,
it is one of life’s quiet, sacred pleasures.
I believe in love—
far beyond craving, repression, or fleeting pleasure.
Love that listens. Love that lingers.
I am not reactionary.
I believe in progress,
and in the people who chase it with hope.
At least until power seduces them,
twisting dreamers into tyrants,
corrupting their vision
until they repress, oppress, and manipulate—
all in the name of the very progress they once championed.
Is this the fate of humanity?
To always be ruled by egomaniacs?
I do not judge.
But yes, I am passionately opinionated.
Surely, you’ve figured that out by now.
I hate washing and ironing clothes—
and I’m terrible at it.
But apart from that,
I can do almost anything.
Sometimes, I even cook something decent.
I adore harmony.
I try to arrange my life
like a painter arranges space on a canvas.
Everything with intention, everything with distance.
To the outside eye, it’s chaos.
But I don’t care.
The real mess is inside my head—
where nothing stays where I left it,
and there’s hardly any space in between.
Still, I grow.
And now and then,
I sit alone,
pondering this strange, beautiful life.
I wonder why I’m still walking this road solo.
I think. A lot.
Until once again, I run out of room in my head.
And then…
there is you.
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