If I turn back and look upon all the times I fell for different people in my life I can say that if it wasn’t for my own attempts to see the beauty in everything , to trust people and find excuses for their imperfectness or even their wrongness, to believe in happy ends

everything that inspired me about my intercours with them, everything that “ gave me wings”

was just to a very small insignificant extent THEIR merit

While it was me and only ME

Who I owe the most part of the emotional pleasure and inspiration I got from it.

And every time I saw my imaginary world crumbling down and my heaven-on -earth sand castles starting to dissolve in the sea of the reality

I understood that there was nothing I could really hold onto

Nothing real or substantial

no land I was ever going to reach , drowning in the ocean of my sensitivity and imagination.

But I never gave up. And the history kept repeating itself.

So maybe they are right when the say life finally sucks,

if you accept to see the truth without putting on your rose coloured glasses

Without making it seem or feel beautiful in your own mind

And nothing is really worth it.

Unless we want to follow the valiant Don Quichotte and sacrifice the disheartening reality

And keep our head in the clouds,

Spill out guts out trying to fight with chimeras

and die a hero

for a great damn nothing.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.