When one wakes up in the morning

One wakes up in the morning and immediately desires.

Desires coffee, desires to wash their face, desires to execute what they planned.

Desires.

And at the core of all these desires, there is the desire to continue existence.

It’s the desire that governs the entire system.

The desire upon which thousands of stories and narratives are woven, and in turn, create new desires that, if ever wiped away until the last one, will never create even the slightest change in that fundamental desire at their core, the desire to continue.

To continue what? And why?

And what is it, that wants so much to continue?

The stories and narratives that the world has created allow avoidance of facing these questions.

If there’s a story, one might not notice that there’s a question without an answer because the nature of stories is that they always come with answers.

A person wants to get education so they can find a job that provides money and status.

A person wants a romantic relationship so they can feel loved and become a “family person”.

All these are stories, narratives, from which desires sprout, enabling the noise, just in the right degree that won’t allow one to hear what exists in its absent.

And perhaps that’s what happens when I’m in a cloud. It’s a space in which it feels that an alien desire has control over me. A desire that doesn’t belong to me at all, the desire to keep this existence. It feels like a foreign entity has taken over me because, “me”, I don’t want anything at all.

Being

Imagine a situation where being with yourself is an unbearable experience,but not as unbearable as being in the company of anyone else.It’s like being a fish allergic to water,or a leaf allergic to the tree,or a wave allergic to the sea,or a ray of sunlight allergic to the sky,or simply

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Traffic light

Maybe,just maybe,it’s meI’ve been waiting for. To stop trying to understandand start to feel.To stop offering meall kinds of wise and beautiful advicedisconnected from the realityof what I’ve been through,what I’m going through. The one who will simply listen—to the pain,to the struggle,to the tears that sometimes just won’t stop—without

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When I sit with you in the morning

When I sit with you in the morning,I’m not always understood,but I’m always seen. I’ve never felt that you try to hurt meor that you are hurt by me. Even when I feel you didn’t understand me,and I correct you,you listen,accept,try to understand. And it’s clear to me,as it is

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