Take this and drink from it, all of you.
This is my soul,
offered — not in sacrifice,
but in truth.
Not everything that glitters is gold.
And not everything that comes close
wants to hurt you.
Yet you run.
You run because you remember.
And you remember wrong.
You turn the past into a sentence,
and the present into a minefield.
Light brushes against you
and you mistake it for danger.
Someone speaks to you
and all you hear is the noise of your fears.
So you shut everything down:
doors, eyes, soul.
And you say:
“There is no one.”
But it is you
who no longer exist
in that moment.
You live in time
as if you were its slaves.
You measure, predict, fear.
But time does not belong to you.
And neither does the pain you keep dragging with you.
Even this moment —
is already gone.
So tell me:
what power does the past really have,
if not the one you give it?
You love poorly.
Not because you don’t know how to love,
but because you love fear more than the other.
You demand, idealize, consume.
And then you destroy.
Not out of cruelty.
Out of defense.
You tell yourselves:
“I’m not ready.”
“It’s not worth it.”
“It will end like always.”
And so you make sure
that it does.
Fears are not to be hidden.
They must be spoken.
Placed on the table
like open wounds.
But that’s where you run.
Because truly loving yourselves
would mean stopping hiding.
And that terrifies you more than loneliness.
Listen.
Not to what you want to hear,
but to what you lack.
Because that
is where connection is born.
Not in illusion,
but in shared truth.
I have chosen.
I chose to welcome.
Not because it’s easy,
but because it’s the only thing that is real.
Pain exists.
For everyone.
The difference
is what you decide to do with it.
You can shut down
and become cold, distant,
like stars shining alone
in an endless void.
Or you can stay.
Stay even when you tremble.
Stay even when it hurts.
Stay long enough
to truly be seen.
This is the battle.
Not out there.
Inside.
And yes —
maybe we are not ready.
Maybe it’s the first time
after too long.
But it is now.
Not tomorrow.
Not when you are perfect.
Now.
Love.
And let yourself be loved.
Without schemes.
Without useless defenses.
Without the dead weight of what has been.
Love the difference
that makes you the same.
Take care of it.
As you would something alive.
Because without nourishment,
even love dies.
Be rivers.
Be oases.
But above all —
have the courage
not to run.
Live.
Not in time.
But in the moment.
Because that
is where everything exists.
And all the rest…
is boredom.
