Still Alive

Searching for Meaning

The meaning of life. The spark of life.

We search for reasons to live, yet at the same time, we withdraw from life and die slowly. Myself included.

After the death of my Twin Flame, I have simply been ticking along.

Wishing to leave this place and fighting with him — because he would not allow me to follow him.

Every day starts with a new morning, waiting for the evening to come, hoping to meet him again in the dreamworld.

Sometimes just in the simple tasks of everyday life, sometimes on battlefields alongside mythical beings.

I have lived through his death in countless worlds, died myself in many — and yet, morning after morning, I awoke again here, in this body, in this politically insane world.

Wanting to leave, yet knowing deep down that there is still much left for me to do.

The Long Goodbye

Today, it has been four years and eight months.

Since he shut down this incarnation’s biochemical machine — never to restart it again.

Depression is a deep and often recurring process.

Last spring, I actually felt quite well. I was building, growing plants, and started sharing my shows on YouTube.

By now, I even host live broadcasts every Sunday.

I have also embarked on a training course, aiming to create something of value from all that I have lived through — from which I have somehow managed to resurface.

Perhaps it is this training that has made me feel so fragile again.

Yesterday, after another session, I visited his grave and remembered how we used to talk about death and dying.

Back then, I didn’t truly understand his words:

"I don’t want anyone to feel obligated to visit my grave."

I thought it was just a reaction to the topic of our conversation.

Yet I responded with a strange sentence — a sentence I still don’t fully understand.

It didn’t come from my mind, but from my heart.

From that part of the heart that remembers who we were — and still are — to each other, untouched by the rules and attitudes of the physical brain:

"Still, I would like to know where you are buried. I would happily come and talk to you from time to time."

He looked at me again with that sad, deep, and protective gaze and said:

"I will make sure you know where I am buried."

Seven years later, he left.

And the strangest thing was — there was never any doubt in me that it would happen.

It was as if the conversation had taken place in some other plane of reality.

And yet, it had simply been a morning coffee together in the unit.

As I write this now, I realize — it was a small celebration of his birthday. February 2014.

And today, he has already been gone for almost five years.

Time and Madness

Time flies at a maddening speed.

Since March, tremendous changes have been unfolding across the Universe.

With my sensitive psyche, it has thrown me right back into the time after his death.

I am still alive.

Though I am tired and long for people to stop fueling wars and death, I am still here.

But if the rulers get their wet dream fulfilled, then the death of young, flourishing men will no longer be some distant, foreign tragedy — it will be right here, in our own homes.

Then it will no longer be a matter of opinion.

Then grief will visit every home in Estonia.

The so-called "heroes" will be brought back in black body bags — if they are brought back at all.

And then there will be no more graves to visit, no places left to go and speak to your loved ones.

War is not like the "Estonia" ferry disaster.

It is violence — something our rulers seem to dream of like a wet fantasy.

When Estonian men are killed, the Estonian nation itself will vanish.

And yes, that seems to be exactly the goal.

In addition to the transfer of 10 million EEK from the FEB fund, the destruction of our nation was agreed upon.

Holding On

And yet —

I am still alive.

Every day that I breathe, I carry within me the possibility to bring something good into this world.

Even when the journey feels heavy and the world seems dark, each moment holds the seed of a new beginning.

My story is not over yet.

As long as there is life in me, there is also the chance to love, to create, and to believe.

One step at a time. One day at a time.

And so I continue — living on, carrying hope, and building new worlds.

Be safe in your own power of Hart

Elle Vihman

Translated from Estonian to English with the help of ChatGPT.