Sometimes, I read books that I can't understand if it's the book finding me or me finding it. They are so beautifully terrifying, they don't hurt me but they make me anxious, they make me think, thoughtful or worried but they are full of hope and life... (1/2)

Someone like me, once beautifully said: I want to reach myself by walking within myself, by walking with my solitude, and ask myself, do I want to write? If yes, then I want to write everything, perhaps the sun is a new sun, the night is different, and the day and objects are maybe extraordinary.

I'm looking for a Rilke or maybe a Rimbaud, someone I can send a letter or DM to, it doesn't matter. Is there any Rilke or perhaps a Rimbaud?

There is something that I can't seem to overcome within myself, especially now it has resurfaced once again, and I feel like I have been hindering myself. Maybe one day, maybe in a moment, things will change.