It’s not the beer. Not the smoke.

This calm isn’t borrowed
It’s mine. 

Someone once told me:

You need a person who can be a teacher that guides.

who can treat you like a princess, gentle.
who can be your parent, protecting.
who can be your friend, listening.

I want to believe that.
God, I want to believe that.

October 9, 2019
It’s me again. I have time. I have thoughts.

I called so many people. Listened to so many voices.
I didn’t just hear them, I studied them.
Compared them.

I heard lots of voices, and I keep observing

Who’s more comforting?
Who replies faster?
Who feels safe enough to stay?

Then I went silent.
Because that’s not why I called.

Did I reach out
to connect?
Or to evaluate
who’s worth the reach?

My mind.
it rewinds,
reroutes,
rewrites.

Is this judgment?
Or is it fear,
wearing logic like a mask?

I breathe out the noise.
Talk again.

And someone says:
“Good to hear you’re doing good.”

And I smile.
Even if it’s half.
Even if it’s tired.

Still...
it’s real.

- Ikkel Y. -