July has become January

Of realities and surrealisms that are hard to understand in every awakening, every blink of an eye costing a broken dream and another day in bed.

January cold in the middle of July and every step with a ton on each foot.

Struggling between currents that sink me deeper and deeper.

An unstable pulse, an impossible sleep and a hemorrhage of tears.

I have caused myself so much harm by opening doors that should never have been opened.

I don't know when or how the agony in sighing will end. As easy as saying “everything will be all right”, but so complicated to understand.

How many lies in mantras do I utter to myself every second?

How many walls will I have to run into to understand?

¿Con cuántos más, más, más, más, más, he de lograr salir de este barro de emociones inestables, inseguridades, falsedades, caos, miedo y frustración?

I strive with all that my being can offer, but with the few results that I manage to obtain, a simple mist is enough to overthrow them. Perhaps I no longer have any way out.

Photographers: PJ Wang