So I have to get back to a point where it all started, the roots of all my problem: myself, deep inside. I have to re-learn things, this time with more precaution and slower pace. So I will get back to handwriting. Some of the things in my notes people will never see, some I will transcribe here after a deep thought.
Healing is not enough. I have to reconstruct and be honest to myself. I have to accept the fact that people have free will, and so do I. Consent must be respected, discontent discontinued by disregarding regrets.
And so I bid you adieu for this chapter of my life, and welcoming you to a phase of waiting. You will meet me again, as the same person but older and hopefully wiser.
A few projects ahead: I am producing a new horror series for Youtube, composing new songs for my solo (or probably duo) album, and getting back to writing literature.
Some people I know choose not to produce. They are waiting for some sort of muse or something, or a good time that, heck, will never come. I pushed enough to make these people make something out of their miserable life, that I forgot how miserable I am. Fortunately I am blessed with this melancholy and energy to create. So fuck you bystanders, I ain’t gonna wait. You can wait all you fucking want. I’m doing this, secretly, daily, until the day I decided to end my life.
A plan is a plan after all. Without acting, even nothing will refuse to exist.