Aubade #2 – Yin and Yang

The truth is, there are people who follow everything I create. It’s a precious feeling for me when even just one person is waiting for something new from me. That maybe my two sentences, my music, my visual art, and my enthusiasm can give them more inspiration than someone else jumping out of an airplane. However, at the same time, I’ve made peace with the fact that still: nobody gives a damn…

And that’s precisely what gives me the energy to be who I really am. And when people stop giving a damn, right then, I’ll already be that crazy and interesting artist who grew up, and who learned something from this madness, from these self-expeditions.

In short, my inner vampire, who wrote “Nocturnes” for 50 nights, finally got hit by sunlight and disintegrated.

This was my therapy, my “existential garbage” that I was cleaning up in the dark. Thanks to myself for daring to do it. Thanks to the reader who was reading silently.

So I thought and thought, and I discovered that the morning is a far more interesting and mystical phenomenon. If my night was an introverted, depressive philosopher, my morning is an extrovert, drained of all of yesterday’s complexes. One who is so free that the calm, “wise me” of the evening feels a bit awkward about those extroverted eruptions.

And I realized the most important thing: the “Nocturne” made me discover the problems. With the “Aubades,” I must fight these problems. This is Yin and Yang.

Someone left me a comment the other day recommending some mental health page. I think the page had short quotes that supposedly help people overcome mental problems? Seriously, what bullshit. Am I supposed to follow this page and stop writing? Or will I write better things? Maybe the person who “steals” those quotes is in worse shape than me. Or maybe the person who wrote them is already dead from an overdose.

I discovered the most important thing: one’s own greatest enemy is oneself, and one’s own greatest friend is also oneself. We might receive a sea of information daily, which the brain will definitely filter. This happens independently of us, but we must manage to control what information is most useful at a specific moment in time.

I’m continuing to write. I have no idea what I’ll write about. I’ll just write, stream of consciousness.

In reality, I was always writing. In reality, I am writing three different books that will be published in the future, and then maybe I can call myself a writer. I probably started this public textual activity because I didn’t want to just pop up as an unknown author, and wanted at least someone to know the traits of this creator.

I promise my future readers that, against the background of these grammatically chaotic, disorganized sentences, those [books] will be spaceships.

Yeah… a book is something else entirely, which I approach with really great responsibility, and I think that this direction must also become the main guide for my art, and let’s say it—my life, because I have so much to say.

Until then, these “Aubades.” My sketches. They will be unfiltered, sometimes aggressive, but always honest writings. This will not be analysis, but action. Not sadness, but energy.