Hi.

I'm not sure what to write. There seem to not be enough words of encouragement that could brace you for what is coming.

You've just turned 20 and it's gonna be magical year. You're gonna wish 21 would be the same. It won't. It was bad but could be worse. I know that for sure because...

22 was an apocalypse.

It started with you blasting "22" by Taylor Swift. Preparing for your university exchange. Getting a bit crazy from all this lockdown but it's bearable. Until it's not.

So you go to the north, on the adventure of your lifetime.

You break down completely. For the first time in your life there is no silver lining. There is no hope. You wanna give up and you feel so so ashamed for being this way.

You don't get up from bed for days.

You reach the critical point where you wish morning never comes.

But it does. And it's scary.

I'm not gonna lie - it's gonna be tough. It will take much more strength than you had. Yet somehow you found it.

So you go to therapy. You cry, you don't sleep, you don't eat but you're still standing.

You're the life of the party. Then the party is over and so are you but not entirely.

You still fight even though you didn't know this at that time.

Then you met Him.

And He's woven from the dreams. And you get up because you want to grab that carrot cake with Him. You dress up because you wanna look pretty again. You smile without hurting your cheeks.

And you sleep well for the first time in months.

I'm not gonna say that you are you again. You're still on the mend. But it's less dark.

You see the future again.

And we're excited to see what happens next.

It was normal Wednesday night.

The Earth didn’t break in half, the sky didn’t fall down and the wave didn’t hit my house.

But it might as well have.

If you’ve dealt with depression you may know this feeling, if you haven’t you can’t possibly imagine it.

I didn’t know at first what happenned. The light has gone and I was surrounded by the sudden darkness. And the Sun has been rising since then but it stopped reaching me. I found myself in a constant shadow.

And you know, it’s been hard before but I’ve always had this childish fire of hope inside of me - the one that was getting me through the day and making me believe that things will get better.

But the matches were taken away from me and I cannot light it up anymore.

It takes everything in me to get up each day. Sometimes I don’t. I just let things happen to me. I stopped living, I started existing.

I go out to people and I’m the life of the party.

Then the party is over and so am I.

I try to catch breath but I have all these worries on my chest. I try to sleep but I don’t want the morning to come. I try to think about future but I can’t even imagine tomorrow.

And it’s another sleepless night when I try to rewind my footsteps and see when did I turn into the wrong way. The way that led me slowly and quietly out of my life. I think of that day.

It was normal Wednesday night.

I sit on a night train but I don't sleep. I think.

Recently I got deeply concerned that my relationships with people are fleeting. I just slightly brush them and then leave them behind.

I've always been worried that the more people know me the less they love me. I know me pretty well and I feel like I'm a bit much.

And I think there's something wrong with me - I meet people, I make friends and then I can't stand them.

So as I look around this empty train, all I can think about is that's what my future will look like. Only me and my shadow. And I've always liked traveling light but now I could use some baggage.

I can't count the times that I jumped off the train on its full speed. Risking everything just so I could leave before they would.

Tonight, I tell myself, tonight will be different.

I will sit and wait.

I will not move even an inch.

The time's passing. People come and go. I sit and wait.

And trust me when I say, it's the most lonely thing in the world - waiting for somebody to find you.

But I stay on a train.

I believe that solitude is just a stop and not my final destination.

I've been lonely for what it seemed like an eternity. I've been longing for the person that would love this view as much as I did. I've experienced the loneliness of sitting in the most romantic rooftop bar with the wrong person. I've been wandering alone through this city, hoping I'd bump someday into the right arms.

And I see it as a miracle, that we've met. How did I live so long without knowing you?

I don't know. I guess I needed time to prepare myself for meeting you. It would have been much easier if I've known all along what I've been living for but I'm not complaining.

You're here.

Or should I say, you were here.

I must admit I miss you terribly. I think about you more that it should be allowed to. And the thought of our seperate lifes, does not always bring me tears but it always makes me feel something.

When you reached your hand out to me, I should've held it but instead I stared at it so long until I broke all your fingers with my silence.

I think sometimes of you, sitting in that coffee shop where we first met. I imagine I go back in time and I walk up to you and you smile because you still liked me at that time. And I tell you that I'm from the future and you look at me and ask:

"So what happens next?".

I'm sorry if I write nonsense but it's 2 in the morning and things like that always make sense under the night sky. I guess what I'm trying to say is "I'm sorry" and "Forgive me" and "I love you always".

However, I'm here and you're far away and maybe someday I will settle down for second best.

And that shall be the end of me as there are great crimes in the world, but perhaps the greatest one is killing the love.

Yours,

Last autumn was colder than usual.

When your words started to make my blood curdle and your kisses felt like frostbites.

And I was deaf to those screaming "run away" because there was no place to run to.

You were the world.

But I was tired.

I was tired that each path led straight back to you. That you were waiting on every corner and the streets were screaming out your name. That every face in the crowd was yours and you were the last stop of all the night trains.

It was until one day when I jumped off the train. I could feel the enormous storm coming.

I gave in it.

And it took all of me.

After a while, it tossed me ashore, soaking wet. I got up off my knees and looked around.

You were no where to be found.

And with the sigh of relief came the thought, that there are other worlds too.

i'm sorry that sometimes i make you feel as if you're flying high but then the next thing i do is ripping your wings off and watching you fall

and i'm sorry that i can't pick up your pieces but i still try to pick up myself

i remember all the times when i asked you to tell me it's okay and you did, even though it wasn't

i remember when i broke your heart for the first time

and how you've let me break it again and again and again

and when one time i cried "enough" and told you to finally leave me

but you didn't

and i couldn't stand how you could stand me and i got so angry at you for not wanting to lose the weight of me

because honestly, i don't think you should love me, i always feel so lonely

and i think i'm ready to fight for us but everytime i pick up the sword it's pointed at you

so this is how it is

you were lying all this time because you see

that was not okay

hope this letter finds you in good health.

I was 12 when I first read Lemony Snicket's „A Series of Unfortunate Events”. Sometimes I wonder if I haven’t reached for it too soon.

I have the impression that many of the books on the shelves of children's literature don’t really belong there. And beneath these joyful stories with happy endings, there are heavy truths falling upon us. Ones that may go unnoticed for children’s eyes.

Interestingly, "A Series of Unfortunate Events" is not a happy story. There is no happy ending nor happy beginning. The sorrow I felt, when reading it 10 years ago, is even deeper today.

The moral that screams out of the pages of this novel is „listen to children!”. To not disregard what they say, stop assuming that they have a vivid imagination or they don't understand what's going on. Children see much more than adults.

I remember well the moment I put down the last book of the series on the shelf and it felt as if I was putting aside my whole world view with it.

At the age of 12, I got overwhelmed by the feeling that being a good and noble person is not enough. I was scared of living in a cruel world, forever divided by a schism, that even my parents couldn’t protect me from. I was thinking that good does not have to necessarily prevail, and that my right may be wrong to others. I felt as if life was about fooling everyone, before they fool you. I was staring at the world map, thinking that the oceans and seas might be in fact the library of all the tears in history.

I immersed myself into the world of Dante, Milton, Baudelaire and I was becoming more and more sad.

As I’ve aged, I started to notice the real message behind this series. When I read it again in college, I could feel the growing anger at the injustice that the main heroes of the book must have faced.

I decided that I don’t want to live in a world where evil lurks around from every corner, where everyone lives in constant anxiety and looks with suspicion at people around. I cannot lose myself in this hopelessness, but I should start fighting to make my life different. To become a person, who seeing an injustice, will stand up and say out loud "I disagree". And even if the crowd tries to knock me down and heckle me, I will stand still and take their shots at me.

I don't want to. I can't. I won't live passively in a world of unfortunate events.

I remember it perfectly. We were at the airport and it was time to say goodbye. After few months of working abroad, you were going back to your country and I was going back to mine.

And as we shared, although at that moment I had no clue, our very last kiss, I couldn't help but think "This longing will kill me".

I had this peculiar feeling that he's the one. And that the world suddenly split into two continents - the one with him and the other without him. I felt as if there was no air at the place I've lived. I was choking on tears and holding on to the memories because soon that was all that we were.

A memory.

First few weeks I was suffocating. Three months later I was sure I'll never love again. After six months I was tired of feeling the weight of my constant sadness. It's been months of back and fourth. It was a bad time.

Now, it's been almost two years since I last saw him and I can barely recall his brother's name.

I look at the world map and I see all seven continents.

And I think to myself that apparently, you can live without air.

#love #sadness #longing #breakup

My most joyful memory is yet to come. But I know exactly what it's gonna be like.

I see myself standing upon a shore, at night, hearing nothing but the crashing waves. There's a lighthouse nearby and I can see its light come and go. I look up and the sky is full of stars. The night is warm so I lay down on a sand.

I think of the first time I met Him.

I think of that day he took me to the opera and my highheels were making noise on these cobblestones. I think about how I missed my last train and he walked me all the way home at 2 am and how he took me in his arms when my feet started to hurt. I remember it started snowing. And I could feel that I'm slowly falling just like snow that night.

I remember how he looked me in the eyes and asked me "There's something here, isn't it?"

And how since that moment to all of His questions I'd say "Yes".

I think of that one time when I failed hard and I was heartbroken but He took all my failures and showed me how to turn them into lessons.

I remember how I heard a word "mum" and how for the first time in my life it was adressed to me.

I think of all goodbyes I had to accept and how I thought I wouldn't move on but each time I did.

I think how many times my world collapsed but I rebuilt it with the help of my loved ones.

And how my best friend passed away and I cried in His arms thinking "I'm nobody's child anymore".

I think that it's getting colder and colder and I wanna get up and leave the beach but He shows up and builts a fire just to keep me warm.

I look at His face and under these wrinkles, silver hair, I see a boy who was to shy to kiss me so I had to make first move. He grabs my hand and asks:

"What are you thinking about?"

And I say:

"I think how many times I wished life would be easier and how glad I am it wasn't"

He gives me that smile that could mean anything, the smile that got me through until this very moment.

"I'm happy, you know?", I say.

He nods his head, He looks up and once again we watch the world together.

"This is good life", He whispers.

I will smile then, just as I'm smiling now, waiting patiently for this to happen.

I was awakened by a soft tapping on the window. I slowly opened my eyes and looked at the watch - it was almost three in the morning. I slipped off the bed and went sleepily to the window to investigate the source of the noise.

There was a full moon. The garden and the forest behind the fence were clearly visible in the white moonlight. At first glance, there was nothing out there and I was about to go back to sleep when I noticed a shadow of a human figure at the edge of the forest. I narrowed my eyes to get a better look at it, but soon I realized it must've been a delusion. I turned around just as I heard our dog barking. I opened the window and leaned through it to try to silence him.

The barking turned to a whining as a dark figure ran out of the woods and leapt over our fence. I saw our alsatian, retreating and hiding in the kennel. Frozen, I was watching the intruder pacing back and forth as if he was considering something. I watched him intently, thinking that I was invisible in the darkness of the room, when he suddenly looked up at me.

I recognized those shining eyes right away.

A smile lit my father's face as he called out:

"Honey, I forgot my keys to the house, will you let me in?"

I felt chills going through me and slowly reached for the phone on the shelf. I tried to turn it on, but the battery seemed to run out.

"Honey," I heard his call, "What are you doing? Won't you let your old man in?"

I looked out the window, shaking with fear.

He was standing there smiling kindly, playing with his old hat in the hands. He waved at me when he saw me in the window. I pulled myself together and shouted firmly:

"No, I won't."

The man narrowed his eyes and shook a finger at me.

"Let me in immediately or you'll be in a trouble young lady!"

"My father is dead!", I called softly, but as the night was quiet, he heard me easily.

His face twisted in anger, he began to mumble angrily under his breath, then retreated into the woods.

I closed the window quickly, ran to bed and covered myself with the duvet. After a while there was another knock on the window, louder this time. There was a violent wind blowing through the door frames and leaks in the walls into the house. I felt coldness and unable to bear being alone anymore, I decided to go to my younger brother's room.

The moon was streaming in through the skylight, which made the hallway well lit. Walking softly, I noticed suddenly that my shadow started waving at me. I stood and stared at it, and it started pointing its finger at the stairs, then pretended to come down them. I was looking at it, mesmerized, when I heard my brother's soft cry from below:

"Lucy, I'm scared, come here quickly!"

Without thinking, I quickly reached the stairs and started descending them. I was halfway through when I felt a sudden tug and stumbled backward. I turned around with a silent scream and came face to face with my little brother. He put a finger to his lips, telling me to be silent, and whispered:

"I heard him too."

He pulled me with him and we ran into his bedroom, locking the door behind us.

The clock downstairs struck three.

The wind was getting stronger and the rain began to beat on the windows. Through this noise, the sound of the doorbell reached our ears. We looked at each other in horror.

"Don't go over there," my brother said, "It can't be real, there's nothing out there!"

We huddled in his bed, trying not to go crazy. The doorbell kept ringing, and finally someone started knocking on the door. Suddenly there was a loud bang. The window swung open, throwing figures of angels off the windowsill. Through the sound of wind and rain, a high wail began reaching us. After some time, we began to recognize the words that the mysterious choir repeated more and more loudly.

"Oh, let us in, let us in, let us in or you'll regret it!"

We were overcome by the urge to listen to these voices, and as I was about to go downstairs to open the door, something told me to back off. I covered my ears with my hands and started walking towards the open window. The rain was pouring in through it, and it wasn't long before my nightgown got wet and sticky to my body.

For a moment I couldn't believe what I was seeing. In the moonlight, shadows were circling around our lawn. They waved at me, shook their fists, and crept along the outer walls of our house. At the edge of the forest, there was a group of people waving at me. Among them, I recognized my deceased father, little brother, some people I didn't know, and then I saw me, smiling so broadly that my mouth started to crack and my face was deforming.

At this sight, I quickly closed the window, barricading it neatly.

Minutes passed and finally the noise subsided. We looked at the watch - it was four o'clock. In the morning, we dared to leave the room and found our mother in the kitchen. Seeing our tired faces she asked:

"Everything's all right?"

My brother and I looked at each other, remembering the note that we found stuck to my window, left by an unknown intruder.

"Yes," we replied simultaneously, smiling at her.

After breakfast, I went to my room and noticed that there was no trace of the writing on the note. I didn't know if it was just some delusion or if it disappeared somehow, it didn't matter. Its content got stuck in my head forever.

"Dear children, even the darkest night comes to an end. The point it to not let ourselves go mad. Have you gone mad?

With all due to respect,

Nothing out there"