That’s time when you say “It’s Ok” it means the argument is over, the war is over, but the peace is still somewhere else to be found.

I have a heart of colors, the brain of logics and the hands of lines and conception, but that combination, sometimes, seems weird and it’s not working at all, and I’m stubborn enough not to listen to any “conseil”s, and one who gives me those, I think they’re stupid. And a question pops out everytime: why should you try to find the solution, when you can jump down that cliff and kill yourself? But life is not working that way, it’s more colorful, more tastes, it smells badly and it’s easy to break.

That’s also the way we hypnotize ourselves, that’s always a mess, but we are convinced that things are in order, and we’re happy with it. No. The only way to continue is to stay strong and carry on since we don’t have too much time, and we don’t have space for ourselves.

“It’s ok” is the most disgusting phrase that I heard, it makes me sick, sick of the air, the words, the paintings; sick of the emotional stuff, sick of food, and sleep. And once again, that music hits me again, right to the weak point, then I died a little.

“I have to clean up this mess all alone.” – Les jours tristes

Suddenly I have an urge to talk about today’s weather, it’s gray and there’s no hope, gloomy Monday is gloomy. But in the end, should I care? I don’t know anymore. Innocent people are dying from all over the world, the only thing I can do is trying my best to archive somethings that might be useful for the human being.

And now, it’s acceptable to keep silent for a while.

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