There are many reasons for us to be alive. There are so many things that we enjoy… and what is after this life is so unknown… that keeping ourselves alive and continue existing seems like the best thing to do.
But what is to be alive? Isn’t it a duty, most of the time? Aren’t we most of the time convinced that we’re choosing what happens in our lives while, in reality life seems to be the one that is choosing for us? We’re so constrained… so attached to our small world of possibilities…but, at the same time our minds are so wild… sometimes too much. We just can’t stop dreaming. We cannot stop imagining that life could be much more than it seems to be.
We get used to the world, to our societies and their rules, we become part of them. We become more and more humans as we grow, and sometimes, more automatic. We become machines that wake up, brush their teeth, and go to work. We give up so many dreams, so many faces, so much peace… because our priorities are messed up. We save ourselves all the time because we live in fear… what are we afraid of?
Life is but flashbacks from instants that keep us alive.
I particularly go to extremes. Sometimes I see myself changing the world; helping people to improve their lives… sometimes I see happiness when I abandon myself because of others. But other times I think that nothing here makes sense, and that there’s nothing I could do. Sometimes I think that I could die tomorrow and the earth would keep on spinning around without any problem. I would be a memory and nothing more. And when I think about it I forget about all my fears… I just realize that this is it, my life… and that whatever I do, and whatever I accumulate here, will vanish with time. Then I observe myself, my fears, my problems and my messed up priorities and I laugh… who cares? I’ve been dead so many times… but here I am, I survived.
And in between all the things I don’t know… I know one. There’s one thing that keeps me alive, one thing that puts together all the pieces of this puzzle that life is: To love, and to be loved. There’s nothing bigger, nothing else can open your eyes to the world as much as love does. I cannot define love because I really don’t want to limit your idea of it. Love, as many ideas, doesn’t have a limit. But I can tell you one thing: it exist. I’ve seen it with my eyes walking around the street, sometimes in the form of a tall man wondering around with his brown hat and big funny sunglasses; sometimes it’s a woman sitting at the edge of a cliff looking at the sea; sometimes it’s a girl holding the hand of a stranger while both of them are lying down on the sand of a beach; some people say that one of his eyes is blue, and the other one is black… I thought they were green, at least when I saw him, his eyes were green. But people say too many things. They also say that love blinds you… maybe they’re right. I really don’t know.
I know, however, that when you’re in love life is nonsense and it makes the most sense. The solitude of the everyday that makes you feel that no one truly cares about you, and that you don’t really care about anyone; disappears. You can love, you can care, you can give without expecting anything in return… tears can come out of your eyes because of someone else’s pain. When you are in love…
Don’t save yourself. Fly… forget your fears. Close your eyes. Love.
Love exists, listen to its music.
Before I loved you, love, nothing was my own:
I wavered through the streets, among
Nothing mattered or had a name:
The world was made of air, which waited.
I knew rooms full of ashes,
Tunnels where the moon lived,
Rough warehouses that growled ‘get lost’,
Questions that insisted in the sand.
Everything was empty, dead, mute,
Fallen abandoned, and decayed:
Inconceivably alien, it all
Belonged to someone else – to no one:
Till your beauty and your poverty
Filled the autumn plentiful with gifts
I took this picture a year ago, you cannot differentiate its shape, and you cannot distinguish the color of his eyes; but it is love.