Lessons learnt, mission made.

The past two months were full with ups and downs (mostly downs,duh), and during these troubled days only the following worn-out sentence kept me going:

When you reach the bottom end, there is nowhere to go. Shit can't get worse from a point.

Well, as we'd expect it, there is no bottom end and shit can get worse. Before learning it on my own, my dearest recent surfer from New Zealand warned me that my theory was faulty. Now, admitting that I've crossed the 'hopeless' line in my downfall, I stopped for a second. What could be a man's last, desperate glimmer of hope? The straw that eventually proves itself strong enough to pull him out the mess he created? This post will make an attempt on answering the question.

I had my first adult speaking class this week. Roaming through various topics, we ended up at religion. Given that all my students were moslims, the conversation turned out to be a kind of 'convince Peter about his beliefs/make him forget about his disbeliefs'. But I made a shortcut and even surprsising myself, I ended the class with these words (give or take):

'No matter what we believe in, which God we support or ideas we fancy, there is always a moment in our lives when we are down. And life looks so grim that we can't see because of our sufferings. And we cry out for somebody, something, a superhuman being, a kind creature who listens to our pain and sooths us, placing it's hands gently on our shoulders, and whispering 'You can get up now'. And suddenly, things turn around and we get our confidence back, our motivation, our emotions and everything is fixed.'

Needless to say how selfish ending it was, but my own words rang a bell in my head. Are we strong enough to fight our way, even during a constant and obvious decline?

We have to be. It's not a choice we make. We gotta find a passion, a hobby, a love, a friend, a job, a god, anything, that keeps us focus and organized.  Religion is not the only lighthouse in our world to guide us through the pitch black which we created by blowing out the candles.

I feel like the moment has come in my life when writing can't be a hobby anymore. I'm bare naked now, stripped from my family, love, friends, country, happiness; I put myself into the situation. This has to be the very moment when smudging my shit won't work anymore. When turning to the past, to the comfort, to the guided childhood would be a fool's errand.

Well, fuck it then.

It's time to play my game as I always wanted but as I never could, never dared. Clearly. No smudge, no blur anywhere: just the perfection of a diamond shall shine through. May this diamond be small, low-value; but it'd be true.

And being honest and true is beyond everything in this life. And from now on... so as writing.