I loved to dance but I do not dance anymore, I loved to make paintings, but I do not paint anymore. I loved to meat people, I do not meet anyone. I loved to speak, most days I am silent as there is no one around anymore to speak with. I loved to love, I do not love anymore. I loved to touch a girl, look into her eyes, yet I do not anymore as year by year I am single. I loved to write, I do not write anymore, except this article. I loved to think, imagine, hope, to the future, I do not anymore as I do not see future anymore. I loved to walk memories of me but what remained? Nothing more to check within and as past. I loved myself, I do not anymore. I’ve been sad, and sadness defined me, but not anymore.
I’ve been in regret and sorrow, in shame, in judgment, I am not anymore. I loved to explain, check, investigate, I do not anymore. I loved my family, friends, I do not have anymore any of that. I loved my car, I do not have any. I loved the sun, yet it is winter. I loved the breeze, yet I do not experience this.
I loved to see myself, in future, as who I will be, yet everything is different, what I would never imagined. I loved to overcome obstacles, yet nothing to overcome, as nothing will come.
What happened, Juraj, to love you have been? Where that love went? And I am not saying about love in context of positive feeling, nor feeling of love at all, as love, is not a feeling, my words before, explains what and how I see and understand love, yet love I do not use towards anyone in any context as a word. Juraj, where is love as you?
I asked myself, thousands of times, who I am, how come I am. Am I? Yet many may think that I stopped to walk m process, as my activity everywhere I stopped, yet I never stopped to investigate myself, and walk me, and challenges and difficulties. I never stopped to breathe, as my breath was only thing, with self-forgiveness, thanks to which I am here.
Thousands of times, walked the same points, thousands of times, stood the odds, thousands of times, stood up. Thousands of times, fallen. Those who watched me, through all my days, through the years, should I thank you or should I ask you to leave? Yes, I see, can not ask to leave any part of me, you was always with me. But we can laugh about it, how many times, you looked at me, and wondered, how come I did it again, despite all that knowledge, all that realizations, despite all points walked, despite all of everything, despite all, again. To stop judgment, but hey, what this word even means, it make no sense.
So many polarities witnessed and understood, so many stopped, and yet I have to ask myself, how I can create life?
Yes life, because in creation of death, I lost myself, I have no idea how to create life, what life means, of what life is, yet I am life. I have no idea, what I am as life. This seeing, where creation of death led me, not seeing how to create life, how? Thousands to questions answered, can be great support to anyone, yet not doing so, because of this one fall?
I watched your lives, yet mine and yours, are so different, that none of you, can see it, except those who walked with me. So different yet the same, this paradoxes I see, I have no words to describe this. I have no words to describe me, as who I am, as words. I tried, I had to use many and still it was not valid, not valid description of me.
And standing water, as me, crashed the rock of me, water more solid then rock, yet still, who can understand this words, except those who walked those roads of clashing powers?
So much I could say, but not anymore, as who understand? I tried, not anymore, I loved to speak, yet where’s that love?
Faded, still not gave up on me, as I asked, why? Why you simply don’t?
Shining, through lies, standing in storms of hate, transforming yet not knowing next day will come. Still here, always, not knowing next day will be, but still is. This day, is still, stand still.
And those words, using, as me, and I said thus will be and is and was, yet many of them, not of me, not from me, not me, some of those words, are not mine, how is it possible ?
Created impossible, and had to face the revenge of me, through impossibility of creation, yet still done. But only for that reason to face those points ? Seems to be silly, so much effort, so much patience, so much details, and this precision of this creation, where I amazed stood and watched this to face only this point and again everything lost as had to move on. How I can explain this, if only you, who walk with me, saw it. Even, can I, to anyone? How much books I would have to write, to explain all those details, linked together, in creation of such moments.
And this seeing, in and as moments, as how much points had to come together, within and as impossible precision, still manged to happen, for this one point. Is it worthy? Or even, should be? What even this word means, as I asked.
And I wanted, someone would understand, and see, what it was, and yet it again only you, no one else can, as you was the creator and you witnessed it all, only you.
Will you ever give up?
The words, do not exists, yet you create them, you bring into existence that what do not exists, how is that possible, how you can, to resonate through space, where distance is not valid, how you can, negate distance?
How you can, make distance obsolete, how you can, make impossible possible?
How you can be me?