Words cannot embrace,
Hearts guide us on the true path,
Breathe and souls unite.

Chapter One - Heart's will

Hello, my bird! 🐦

How badly I fucking want to knock some sense into you. 😤 But then I remembered my therapist's advice: it's better to write letters when rage overflows and thoughts get tangled. Today, this seems especially fitting. My desire to smash your already miserable face instantly turns into a flutter and a strange warmth when I see the look in your eyes, full of love for me. 💔
I imagined our possible phone conversation: one moment, I'm hurling insults at you, the next, I'm saying words of love. Screaming and anger turn into gentle whispers and back again. Madness.
Oh fuck, If one imagines the consequences of such a dialog, in the silly letter, it seems impossible to find a flaw 😅

Who would've guessed that ditching home with just one bag would bring not just pain but also crazy happiness, only to be followed by more pain? Relash - feels like I'm always trippin' over my laces. 😅😔

But first, something else. Cause everything's mixed up in my nightmares.
Now everything's mixed up in my dreams. Every night I see the high mountain border crossing between Russia and Georgia, that night I met the guys in Stepantsminda fleeing from a crazy tyrant clinging to power. That same night I first met you. Every night I dream of that day when the new repressive anti-LGBTQ laws and selective persecution forced me to make my last pilgrimage to Russia. With tears in my eyes, I rushed home to hug my mom and family one last time, wish them a quick reunion, and leave, knowing I'd never come back. I left for the EU to seek asylum. I dream of my outfit woven from despair—hate and ignorance propaganda branded me an extremist and criminal, forever dressing me and thousands of others in prison robes in society's eyes. People are told we're inherently perverts, rapists, terrorists. Every night, my friend, I dream of the fog of my past, where I had to hide myself all my life. Now, similar fog surrounds my future too. Also, every night, I dream of my beloved Georgia with its welcoming streets and churches. I dream of Paris, where I first felt safe and free to be myself. I dream of my silent scream of despair, echoing in my head and poured out as dry tears.

"How the hell do you wake up to this shit every morning?"

I had been living in Georgia for a while, but I was just a tourist there. No chance or way to get documents and stop relying on Russia. But here, I finally have a chance.

Oh, yay, guess what? 🙄 So, I'm giving my dreams an outlet by creating this painting. I think I even burned out my video card looking for the right images
Now the painting is complete, but why the fuck do I see you in my seemingly self-portrait instead of a release from my nightmares? 😳🎨
On this canvas, I see you running from yourself to the people who should have been your main support. But should they discover the truth about you—that you, oh horror, have fallen in love with someone of your own sex—their greatest mercy would be to turn their cold shoulders. I see you, a person shaped by a world where trust is a rare currency; a world where the only rule is to survive and remain part of society, you must keep your thoughts to yourself, speak in riddles or only what is expected of you, and act in contradictions, never, ever removing the mask. I look at this painting and understand why you decided the best thing you could do was to try to take control, overcome depression, find yourself a bride, and be like everyone else, leaving our closeness forever to the daily lines in the secret chat of your hidden Telegram account. I see you on it, and I forgive you.

And fuck yeah, I wish I could say you made the biggest mistake of your life🤬, but life forgives all mistakes. And each of us will find happiness, perhaps in ways we never knew we could. Maybe without the unimaginable depth of intimacy we once shared with you, but certainly happy. With someone else or alone with ourselves. There are no irreplaceable people, my bird, only unique ones. 🦜

I'm angry and torn-I can't accept your choice. But I know that whoever you entertain in your bed at night, trying to distract yourself from your own pain, you will wake up every morning thinking of me.
My heart was shattered by feelings! Torn apart by the sense of all the unrealized love for you. Torn by anger at my own weakness (or strength?), when I accepted you with your choice, not trying to confront it through words or, God forbid, manipulation, even though it caused me unbearable pain. I was torn by the fire of desire and lust, remembering how your eyes devoured me with sinful hunger when I stood naked, kneeling at the threshold of our home. And yet, I was torn by a quiet hope and a deep, dark pit of helplessness before human choice.
I was furious and ripped apart—couldn't stomach your decision. But i knew whoever you entertained in your bed at night, trying to distract yourself from your own pain, you'd wake up every morning haunted by thoughts of me.

My heart was shattered by feelings! Torn apart by the weight of all the unrealized love for you. Ravaged by rage at my own weakness (or strength?), when I accepted you with your choice, not trying to confront it through words or, God forbid, manipulation, even though it tormented me. I was torn by the fire of desire and lust, remembering how your eyes devoured me with sinful hunger when I stood naked, kneeling at the threshold of our home. And yet, I was torn by a quiet hope and a deep, dark pit of helplessness before human choice.
But even more, my soul was ripped apart by rage at God for allowing such a perverse order of things, in which you were forced to make such a destructive choice.

In the stark landscape of my life, you stand as the solitary oasis where I can pour out the depths of my soul. The brutal onslaught of Russian aggression against Ukraine not only severed familial bonds but also tore away my dearest childhood companion, a friend now lost to the clutches of war. For 2 long years, silence has filled the void between us, a silence heavy with the weight of unspoken words and irreconcilable choices. I find myself unable to reconcile his decision to bear arms for the very force that has wrought havoc upon our land. It's a revelation that shatters the illusion of familiarity; perhaps I never truly knew the depths of his convictions. My mother, yes, she holds the closest and most genuine bond with me. Yet, the subject of my affections for men remains a forbidden territory in our conversations, a chasm of understanding that may never be bridged. Thus, in this desolate emotional landscape, you alone remain, my sole confidant amidst the wreckage of shattered connections.

This pain's all about you—and that means it's only spilling out in this damn painting and this damn letter. A letter I'll probably never send your sorry ass. Though... you probably already know every damn thing written in it about me. 😡😔
And now, the painting is complete, and on it, I see you, desperately seeking salvation. Actually, I'm glad that in it, I found an outlet for these emotions. 😌🎨 And instead of hurting you with my anger, I get the opportunity to change something. For myself. For you. For others. 💪
And now, as the noise in my heart quiets, I hear the gentle whisper of my heart—all the pain, love, betrayal, it all becomes insignificant. What remains is only gratitude—for the connection we shared, for its boundless horizons, and for the lessons about myself, humanity, love, and loss that this journey has taught me.

I often think about how life just passes by. A life in which something irreparable can happen at any moment. But we manage to lose people not only for these reasons. We manage to lose people by thinking with our heads, making decisions with logic. Ignoring the call of the heart.
Recently, in your days of despair, you told me that the municipal services had erased the "God is alive" inscription from the wall near your house, as if to declare that even He had abandoned you. But you know, I am the best example that God simply does not need monuments. My life, which often unfolds in the most beautiful way during the darkest times, does so for one reason—because I have learned to forgive ignorance and make decisions as if guided by the question: "What is His will for me?" But in reality, I don't ask; I listen to the quiet voice of the heart.
Now I understand that thanks to this faith and the goal to be an example for you and to be the best example for those who have also been victims of ignorance, homophobia, tyranny—I will cope with everything.

People, words, and feelings often deceive, but when I manage to take a pause, cool down, and reflect—I find this quiet but confident voice of the heart. Thanks to this voice, I know I am on the right path. ❤️
Yes, my friend, I will cope with everything. I will adapt to another culture, learn the language, gain official asylum, find a way and the money to bring my family from Russia, and then I will be able to open up to the world without fearing for their safety, becoming a full member of society. 🌍✊
But more importantly—as before, I will be the best example for you and others. So that, having grown stronger, someday we can return home together and defeat the ignorance sold to people by this bloody power. 🛤💪
Believe in me, as I believe in us. Together, we will overcome. 🌟

P.S.
Dedicated to all who, like me, find peace and acceptance in this painting. To those who choose the path with a heart, carrying light and love, dispelling ignorance. To those in need of this light. And to you, my bird. 🕊
This is a tribute to the soul's journey through darkness and light, guided by the unyielding spirit and the compass of the heart. May this painting be a beacon for all who seek to live authentically and love unconditionally. 🌟❤️

Time to Act
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