Earlier this morning, I decided it was time to “appear” to my closest friends. Just something simple for an Instagram feed, but kinda unexpected for me to do. I chose to show up for people I hold in the highest regard: people I admire deeply, people I feel compassion for. My love for them is, somehow, a transition between respect (for them, for our history, for us) and trust. I don't know. I haven't allowed myself to feel much over the past few years. Maybe it was the smartest choice: to feel nothing, so I wouldn't feel too much (or feel too little). Not feeling is an act of emotional intelligence that hardens you against sentimental foolishness. No one tells you that, by doing so, you're embracing foolishness even more by not letting things flow naturally. You don't allow yourself to fail. You don't allow yourself to feel. You're ashamed of feeling. You don't cry, because you don't want to be seen as weak. You smile when you can, but not too much, because you don't want to be excessive or expansive. You become a living Mona Lisa. Tu es La Joconde, mais en chair et en os. I never said goodbye to friends I haven't seen in ten years. I never said goodbye to friends I'll never see again, because they're no longer on this plane. I never allowed myself to grieve. I never said goodbye in person. And when I had the chance to say it from afar, I chose not to. I vanished. My exit was through the front door, but on my terms, under my own rules, in my own time, by my own decision. No announcements, just absence. Many disappearances. Few explanations. I was gone. Still, life had its own terms. Some people left before I knew how to say goodbye. At some point, I felt I had failed as a person, and that I didn't deserve to be surrounded by such wonderful people, until I educated myself about solitude. It's a tortuous path. A hard one. For some, it's a point of no return: a full stop, maybe even a slow drowning. For me, it was the beginning of a new paragraph. Maybe it was a cruel act to commit against oneself, but the conclusion, in essence, was logical: there's no such thing as a 100% good or 100% bad human being. There's no 50/50 either. There's no linearity, only dexterity in how you deal with the world around you. What you emanate, in peace or in chaos, doesn't need to be either/or. It just needs to be. And when it comes from a place of care, what comes back to you may be warm welcomes, soft landings, safe returns. Feeling, now, is no longer optional for me. I want to feel. I love to feel. I'm not ashamed of not having felt in the past. I would be ashamed if I chose not to feel today or in the future. I respect the past. I honor it. I look at it and I cherish it: the mistakes and the wins. I live the present with the hope of reuniting with those I love in the future, in wholeness. As I said earlier today to those who have greater access to me: I miss you every single day. For real. It is true. Forget about the lying games. Forget about the exaggeration. Forget everything. This is me, being raw. I've learned that I have a lot of love to give, to share, to release into the world, and that it wouldn't be fair to keep it locked in a sealed box under the banner of non-sentimentalism or the strategic coldness of someone too afraid to take a single step without planning it perfectly. I've learned that my friends have always loved me deeply. To not give back, to not share, to not love, to keep it unreleased: that would be the most selfish act I could ever perform. Not a mistake, but pure selfishness. Solitude teaches us about the insignificance of humankind against the greatness of the world. As I once said: I've learned we are like sand in a desert, small, but part of it. Without sand, the desert would be nothing. And yet, it is still an empty place, although it has life. It pulsates life even in emptiness. Actually, I don't feel empty. I feel as full as I have ever felt. Full of good, legitimate feelings. My nebulous path of solitude taught me about humility, and it showed me how all of us, in certain ways, are like grains of sand. We're not alone. We pulsate life, together. I don't see or call myself a humble person. That's the most egotistical thing someone could ever do. Humility is something you live, not something you brand yourself with. Knowing about humility is very different from calling yourself humble. Nevertheless, I wanted to say I love every single one of you who did not give up on me, who stood by me, who remembered me, who became examples of pure love just by existing and reminding me of who I wanted and needed to be. There are a few names I could drop, because they literally brought me back from the void with their full hearts, but I don't need to name them. They know who they are. I have faith. I believe in God. I'm not religious: I'm a believer. People cross our paths for a reason. They stay for a reason. They return for a reason. I believe. From the deepest, and yet most exposed, part of my heart: thank you. I love you. I have faith in you. I thought I saved myself back then, but the truth is: you all saved this human being from my own ego. I owe you my cure. With all my heart and soul. And once isn't enough, so... thank you. --

July 16th, 2025.