Born from Fire

On anger, love, and the hunger to feel everything

I don’t feel like writing.

I am angry.

But the thoughts running through my head are golden.

So I place the tablet in front of me.
An empty document open.

Empty like my heart.

I am angry.

But also fucking crazy.
Happy.
Euphoric.

I am content and empty at the same time.

And yes — it makes sense.
At least to me.

A little reminder to myself:

You always get what you want.

Always.

So calm the fuck down for once.

But I can’t.

I can’t calm down.

Because I wasn’t made for that.

I was forged in fire
and born from dynamite.

Calm feels like uncertainty to me.

Like something unfamiliar.
Something that doesn’t belong to my nature.

I give to the world everything that I am.

And in return — I receive.

The only truth I truly believe in.

This anger…

It’s not destructive.

It’s alive.

It grabs me and says:

Let’s go again.
Let’s go higher.
Let’s ask for more.
Let’s fucking live.

I feel the universe inside me.

Pushing me.

Bringing the right people into my life.
Not to comfort me —
but to challenge me.
To open me.
To stretch me.

I feel everything.

The sadness.
The grief.
The love that never ends.
And the itch.

It was always there.

But now…

it’s unbearable.

I am coming to peace with all that I am.

And I am many.

A proud owner of multiple versions.

And many more to come.

I welcome them —
with enthusiasm,
with curiosity,
with a bit of childish madness.

It’s hard to explain this kind of intensity.

To someone who hasn’t felt it.

How do you explain
that you want to burn through your own existence?

To live so fully
that it ends in ashes?

What words do you use
for something that doesn’t want to be contained?

I was asking myself these days:

Who am I without you?

Without love?

Without the one before,
and the one before that…

Who am I
when the night comes
and I am left alone
with the sky
and my thoughts?

Even in my darkest moments —

I look at the stars
and I feel alive.

I need pain
as much as I need love.

Like a true masochist.

I fall in love
again and again
until I consume it.

But who am I without you?

I am amazing with you.

But I am also amazing without you.

Without you,
I am careless.
Hungry.
Angry.
Unstoppable.

With you,
I shine.
I love.
I transform.

Both are me.

And I love both.

If anyone reads this
and wants advice —

this is the only one I have:

Don’t be afraid of love.

Love widely.
Love wildly.

Love as much as you can.

And when it hurts —
feel it.

Cherish it.

Because it means
you were lucky enough
to love
and to be loved.

The absence of pain
is not happiness.

It is emptiness.

And this life…

was never meant to be lived numb.

I feel empty now
because my reservoirs were emptied.

But they are filling again.

I choose love.
Every day.

I choose courage.
Every day.

Am I strong?

Maybe not.

Maybe yes.

But I show up.

With broken pieces.
With open hands.

Ready to live again.

And that alone —

makes me shine.

Fucking alive.
Fucking lucky to be here.

Nice to meet you.

All of you.

Let’s talk.

Let’s burn.

I am meeting the right people.

I am growing.

And even if they weren’t —
I wouldn’t know.

Because maybe I am delusional.

But they stretch me.

In ways I didn’t know possible.

They make me question everything:

What are the limits?
Are there any?
How much truth can I hold?

And maybe that’s the point.

To question reality
until we find one
that feels better.

And to myself — again:

Remember.

You always get what you want.

Always.

Just not exactly when you want it.

Maybe… two days later.