it’s ugly.
I’m not in a rush;
not to arrive, not to reach a final destination.
Every time we think we’ve found “the end,” life proves us wrong.
The world is full of surprises,
and humanity, with all its beauty and chaos, is inescapable:
the good and the bad,
the structure and the instability,
the security and the insecurities,
the light and the crimes that shadow it all.
Tonight I realize something powerful:
I don’t want to control anyone,
and I refuse to be controlled.
I want to release.
I ask the gods, the greater good, and the holy spirits
to shield me from anything that might chain me;
any person, any spirit.
I deserve to fly free.
The weight I’ve carried feels like anchors
dragging behind a massive ship.
But I’m ready to rise.
I want to float.
I want to fly.
I want to climb higher and higher
until the pain that once held me fades into the clouds.
I’ve never felt that I wasn’t enough.
Instead, I’ve often felt others weren’t ready to meet me
in the depth of love I offered.
I poured and poured
even from an empty cup
and still, it was never enough.
Because there is no such thing as “enough.”
When someone asks, “How much is enough?”
I can only say: it doesn’t exist.
Life isn’t about measuring love or effort;
it’s about pouring into yourself
and into those who truly receive it,
so that your well never runs dry.
Because when you run empty,
it’s ugly.
It’s lonely.
It’s the worst feeling in the world.
So I choose freedom.
I choose to stay full.
I choose to set myself free.
Dear Diary, 