A novel can leave me indifferent, yet one single word, if used correctly, can make me die. I take things which are so little, and make them so big. I kill myself, feeling by feeling.

There are some people who are simply meant to belong. It’s like there were born for it; to give their hearts away, to have their soul merge with another. I am no such person. To me, belonging is painful. The idea I had when I was a child was of someone who I could share my soul with. Emotional closeness I labeled it. It was this idea of having my thoughts read out loud, conversing never being a challenge for my thoughts and perceptions wouldn’t be secrets to him, they would be heard and received the right way. I don’t believe in this anymore. I don’t believe that anything is possible.

I separate the universe from my own, private, world. I let people in but only to a certain point. I am open, I inspire confidence and invite others to tell me secrets, and I keep them with me, safe. I even share my own; I pay back honesty with honesty. Whoever see’s me believes me to be a people person. But inside me there is a universe so big and expansive that you could never come to know me. And all those castles I build out of words, and all those questions I raise out of ashes, and pictures I draw from emotions, they are the barrier towards that emotional closeness I’ve always dreamt of. Because emotional closeness doesn’t come without it, because emotional closeness would consist of everything; every breathe and disappointment and illusion. But those aren’t on the market, those are mine and mine only. Emotional closeness would have to hold my conversations too, those that are going on always, always, the ones I have with myself only and the ones that revolutionize my, but only my, world.

Now that I am growing older I am taking off the crimson glasses more so than ever. My words are simple, because so are my most raw feelings; I do not seek out something unauthentic. I understand that I am solitary by nature. That my independence, the one I have probably not even acquired but have been damned with by birth, is the end of me. When a child, even then I couldn’t bare to show a sign of weakness. I would fall and hurt my knees yet I would never ever admit that. I would stand with utmost dignity and fight all signs of vulnerability. Strength has always been my friend. Strength has always been my only option.

Today, too, I choose strength. I choose it above belonging and letting go and being recklessly happy. I choose it because although it looks like I am making a choice, I have never really been granted that privilege. It is the only way I know how to exist, with myself, and that is quite possibly my biggest damnation. I don’t know how to quit being… yes, just being.

I dont know, maybe it was just a phase. I couldnt write because I felt drained out, but the truth is I cannot leave now. There is too much unresolved words to write about. To much emotions; not that many notes.

Damaged people are dangerous. They know they can survive.

A asked me whether I believe I'm damaged today. Of course, I do not look that from the outside, do I? I smile and causally lead a smart conversation, I joke, I feel at ease around people, I attract them in fact, due to my happy face, my constant sense of humour. But I am damaged. Because what you see is just a part of it, an element of the equation that forms my contradictions. You cant see that, because I would never show it. Because although my day seems empty, although you look at me and my facial expression has been frozen for the last hour, so much has changed underneath the layers. Underneath there are revolutions, there are revelations and heartbreaks, and tragedies gone wild, and emotions buried prior to them reaching their full potential. You do not see it but most of me happens on the inside. My life, it isnt lived on the exterior, its lived in me, in my head and in all those feelings which come out of no where and dominate my decisions.

I'm sad. I am perpetually sad. Sadness is my diagnosis. And I push people away, without ever letting them see for themselves, because being alone is so easy. Because I am good at it and have done it for years, because I do not believe in people anymore. They fascinate me, I love them, they are like artifacts I admire in the sunlight, but artifacts are just that, I do not give them power. Because letting them in, letting them become a part of my real essence would mean making them my equal, giving them a part of my soul. And that is dangerous. And that is for the undamaged, for those who arent afraid to lose control, to be owned by others.

I am sad. I am always sad. And I'm okay with it. I guess its become my definition. I am Sad.

I think the notesandemotions era has ended. You just know one day, that it has reached all it could, and there's nothing more you can add, no word sparkling enough. Good bye.