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I live in a house full of crosses, the ones on the rosaries placed on each door you might think, but no.

I live in a house full of crosses, more like a cemetery of dreams, a never ending path of agony and nostalgia for what could've happened or probably what could've been done better.

I live in a house full of crosses, and in all of them you can see the infinite list of sins for which I have been crucified, there they are, carved with the sharp nails on those fingers that point at the sacrifices done for everyone else's peace.

I live in a house full of crosses, this house lives in me, it surrounds my mind and seems to be following me wherever I go, can I move out?

There are thousands of ways to connect to people, thousands of ways to feel loved and to love someone; nobody ever teaches us how or when to love people, nobody tells you what’s the right thing to do or how to take care of the people you love; but deep inside, we all come with a tiny book that we write on our own, there you’ll find a few instructions, you write down the things that would break your heart, the things that you would never like to experience and the bad things that you know that, if someone ever tries to do to you, you’d run away. What do I do with this tiny book? you might ask, there are a lot of answers to that question, but here’s the main reason I like to read my tiny book sometimes:

In life, you’ll find a lot of people that will help you fill out the pages on your tiny book, people that will hurt you, but will also help you learn the lessons that the universe is trying to show you so desperatly, thank the universe for that, because there are also people that will try to love you, people that would give everything they have just to put a smile on your face, they can be lovers, friends, family members. And at some point you ask yourself, how do I love these people? How do I make sure they know that I love them too?

Open your goddamn tiny book