there are findings I never knew were to be discovered... much less kept... finding is harder than reaching or looking for. Finding comes without warning, maybe with a sixth sense (not something I believe in), an uneasy feeling of "there's something there... should I approach it? Is it safe?"

for so long you just deem everything dangerous... anything, anyone is a possibility of pain. 1 percent of change for hurting? More than enough to bury what I just found... won't risk it.

but the sixth sense (you know, the thing I do not believe in) is stubborn. Almost as much as myself. I kept strotting and finding, pretending I never saw anything. Some people would jump on whatever I walked upon... I'd just deny it ever happening. My pace turned into a fearful ride over a tunnel vision of what I deemed safe enough - leave it to the regular folks to deal with what I'd found. I'd hand them easily - "go ahead, have it" and before they had a chance to reply I'd be gone. Looking for a wider street, with no logos or storefronts, no balconies or the chance of being seen at all... Against that sixth sense, I gave it all away to even the undeserving. Every finding was usually too heavy for me to carry it... I'd appreciate it, I'd think of all I could do with it... but I'd leave it to the "stronger folks". You know, the ones who stepped over me with a fake grin as I pointed at my finding and said "I found it. You can have it - I give it to you". so... I gave it away. Always... finding and giving. Sometimes not even finding anything... yet still giving it away. What "it" was? I'll never really know. Not because I lack self awareness... because I don't care anymore. oh, how I'd hate myself if I ever came across written words such as "I don't care". I'd relate to them... I wrote them a million times over in the same page until all the white became black and the paper destroyed itself... Yet I always felt a shameful guilt over admitting something as honest and truthful as "I do not care". I do care. Three decades had to get by - 30 summers and 30 winters... before every colour shifted and the findings became my own by right. And pride. again... pride isn't a feeling I am used to dealing with... especially when you get all your identity based on the wrong perceptions... the ones you repudiated but nevertheless accepted and even went through the trouble of shaping them into your life, your being, your actions, your loves and hates, your fears and shames... three decades... that is a long time in the digital world, isn't it? And yes - I am trying to hide the fear of knowing that 1/3 of your life is spent sleeping so three decades are... a daunting reality of how soon it'll all go away. I won't feel anything... Surely. Not after stopping breathing. And it's not like I'm gonna miss anyone... but... and this is the biggest word in my current days...

it's not enough. Not enough for the joy. Not enough for the laughter, not even enough for the sleeping nights I do not spend alone anymore, with my fists clenched against my chest, my arms crossed as if I am about to face a battalion of soldiers without any other protection...

my fists will forever be clenched, my jaw will forever bring me headaches... cleaning and cleansing, water and light, all of these compulsions are forever... but forever does not mean they don't stop... they do. I found out they do... and now that I had a taste of how it feels to keep what I find for myself... I don't care anymore. should I feel pride? Is it sinful? Not that I believe in sins... or most of the words I even express in here... tonight my whole weight will be on my crossed arms, each fist closed tight against the shoulder. I will face the soldiers, the death that peeks through every night. Only... because the time is ticking. and good, amazing things are coming. I don't care anymore... about all that was keeping me "safe" which was the most harmful thing I could ever put myself through... look out for the safety of giving. The safety of handing out your findings, your treasures, your being. That is only the safety of loneliness. Valid? Yes. Worthwhile? Not in the long run... and let's just say the run isn't that long in the end... so... keep your findings. Look for them. Dig through them and enclose them inside of you. Near the heart, touching it. Don't forget about your findings, they'll be there. And one day... it'll make sense. someday... you'll realise all the findings have turned into pieces and then... you just reach for them, compose a nice bright image and you'll be stunned at how beautiful your being was this whole time... no safety amounts to the joy of this insight. Stop caring. Do care when the time comes... don't waste your time... let it go but save yourself first.

the music is (s)low... the water is fresh, the breaths are still... fearful but I can close my eyes and open my mouth to relax my jaw... because soon enough my fingers will be relaxed, my head won't hurt anymore and I will not fight imaginary soldiers every night... or even if I do, they'll go away as soon as I open my eyes and (_____)