#padayon

Tell me I can cause I can't tell it myself.

Tell me that I can cover all the reviews.

Tell me, I can fight this distractions.

© Paolo Dala

Padayon [pa.dá.yun.] - Carry On (v)

Mama, ooh, didn't mean to make you cry If I'm not back again this time tomorrow Carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters...

I cried last night.

I was exhausted, and physically drained from the day’s weight, but the moment my body surrendered to sleep, my mind refused to follow. Instead, it wandered back to places I thought I had long left behind. Memories I had buried—heartaches, disappointments, wounds I swore had healed—came rushing back, vivid and relentless. I lay there, helpless, as they played before my eyes like an old film I never wanted to rewatch. And so, I cried. I cried until there was nothing left in me until the silence swallowed the last of my tears.

I don’t know why this happened. Lately, I’ve been pulling away, retreating into solitude as if it could shield me from the world. I keep telling myself that I just want to sleep early, read a book, or binge-watch movies I used to love. But maybe I’m just hiding. Maybe I’m just trying to silence something within me that refuses to be ignored.

Don’t get me wrong. I’ve come to embrace my introverted side more in adulthood. I think we all do, in a way. But even then, even in the comfort of my own company, loneliness still finds me. And I guess as we grow older, it finds us more often. I finally understand why people drown themselves in beer, why they chase the thrill of unfamiliar places, why they seek distractions that offer even the briefest escape. Because sometimes, life doesn’t wait for you to be ready. It just hits you. Hard. And the cruelest part? Even in moments when you should be happiest, it can make you feel like you’re at your lowest.

But if there’s anything I’ve come to understand, it’s this. The weight of the past doesn’t vanish overnight, and neither does the loneliness that sneaks in when everything turns quiet. Some nights will be heavy, and some days will feel like a blur, but even in those moments, you are still here. And that has to mean something. Maybe it’s not about always moving forward, but about holding on—finding reasons, however small, to stay, to grow, to make sense of it all in your own time.