to do is to have.

Philosophy, literature, reflection, and photography all of them are swirling in my head. I’m trying to stay pragmatic in reality, just to give shape to what they stir inside me.

Solitude makes me feel insane, the chaos of the world strangely keeps me sane.

War is to blame, peace is to claim, and silence is a shame.

There is always a gap between living life and describing it, and in that gap lie your entire self and all your ups and downs.

True peace comes not from comfort, but from releasing yourself from conflicts of interest.

If any emotion is layered with morality, it will never bring the truth to the table.

The tragedy is that permanence was mistaken for truth, while change itself may be the only truth.

We are creators and destroyers, thinkers and sufferers, gods and animals.

He asked: Do you remember how it all felt when you were born?

The love you need is the one that’s passionately wild.

Once a person becomes self-aware of themselves, their thoughts, motives, desires, and pain, they can no longer live blindly or hollow. Self-awareness doesn’t just enlighten; it also grounds you existentially and exposes you. It becomes a kind of burden, unavoidable, and you are compelled by it. You have to listen, because it holds the full spectrum of human experience: the good, the bad, and the ugly; love, pleasure, sorrow, grief; pain, adversity, tragedy; and even kindness, happiness, emptiness, openness, wisdom, knowledge, and conscience. With all this, it holds you accountable.

I’m the kind of person who falls in love with someone who speaks not just to me with love, but to my soul and consciousness, reaching beyond the noise and distance of the world.

Kiss me… I’m so unhappy. Let me forget this unhappiness through your kiss.

Even people’s griefs can become joyful when they recall the ones they have overcome.

Sometimes, people try to deceive you in your lowest moments just to rid their own suffering.

I always thought I should have been born in another part of the world. But since that isn’t possible, I began watching world cinema. Through it, I inhabit the lives of others, feeling the weight of distant lands, faiths, and histories. Cinema lets me touch every corner of the world, absorbing it through my senses and imagination. I realized that the crueler an experience was, the more melancholic it seemed, and I have always belonged to the broken ones: the country stained with bloodshed, the city drowned in sadness, the streets steeped in emptiness, and the people emotionally fractured, trapped in mundaneness. I feel alone and unseen there, yet this solitude is exactly what I seek. I have always wanted to carry the raw, original weight of it, not the kind of faked healing that hides behind borrowed hope. I want the wound itself, raw and unmasked.

People don’t need drugs to stay deluded. But they do need them to face the truth. Because delusion is effortless. It’s built into society, into religion, into relationships. It comforts. But truth? Truth strips you bare. It doesn’t care about your feelings, your hopes, or your identity. To face that, the mind craves a buffer. A distraction. And sometimes, that buffer is a pill, a drink, a hit. Because truth, in its nakedness, can be terrifying. Not everyone wants it. Fewer can endure it.