resvivo
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Read them thrice everything fades here not a face. a frequency. countries hold pieces of me and i call it home. neither one is wrong. axmedovbro.t.me
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A prisoner of its own loop, forever chasing a future that keeps retreating,
forever replaying a past that keeps returning. Never in presence.
I must be a person who always dreams about the past becoming reality. Or the one who deep dives into absurd thoughts — about what could be and could not,
thinking about all the ways that may happen and may not,
depending on the combination of the choices I made and didn’t make, and could have made.
And I wait.
And think about the perfect future that could be.
And also ready to accept the fate of the side I don’t want, but that may come.
too busy to live in future yet never staying present
Living in a delusional life, I guess.
How am I. I may be disillusioned
living the same life,
same routine.
living predictable my casual day, my week, my next month, my next year. It’s just so boring and so sane, yet so peaceful.
the peace
the calm
that never made anyone
a resilient surfer.
you can’t learn the ocean
from the shore
and i’ve been standing here
so long
i started
calling it home.
I guess I need to learn how to let it go. I need to probably surrender. But I don’t know how. And at the same time, I know how.
stay vivo| a.
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