I have learned that much of the pain in our world stems from a system that teaches men to disconnect from their emotions. I am beginning to understand that this conditioning, rooted in patriarchy, compels men to equate strength with emotional suppression and dominance, while vulnerability is seen as weakness. As I reflect on this, I see how it harms not just men, but everyone around them, distorting relationships and stifling love.

I am realizing that true liberation, for both men and women, requires breaking free from these destructive patterns. It is not enough to simply reject patriarchy on an intellectual level; I must also recognize the emotional toll it takes on men, who are conditioned to shut down their feelings and distance themselves from empathy. I have come to see that without emotional openness, without the freedom to feel and express tenderness, men remain trapped, unable to experience love in its fullness.

I have learned that healing requires more than dismantling external structures; it calls for a radical rethinking of masculinity. I am now convinced that men must be encouraged to embrace emotional vulnerability, to reconnect with their capacity for love and empathy. I understand that love, in its most profound sense, is transformative, and that it thrives when we allow ourselves to be open, honest, and unafraid of intimacy.

In this process of unlearning, I am reminded that the path to healing is not solitary. I have realized the importance of creating spaces where men can safely explore their emotions, where they can reconnect with the parts of themselves they have been taught to hide. I am committed to fostering communities that prioritize emotional growth and reject the outdated notions of control and dominance that have long defined masculinity.

I have come to believe that change is not only possible but necessary. It requires me, and all of us, to embrace new ways of being that honor emotional expression and nurture the kind of love that allows us to grow. I am committed to this journey, knowing that it holds the potential to reshape our world into one where love, justice, and connection can flourish.

—

In a world where men must not reveal
the wounds that fester deep inside,
I see now, to heal, we must unseal
the softness that we’ve been denied.

The path is not for men to dominate,
but to embrace what makes us whole;
to find the grace in open hands,
and free us from our guarded souls.

In this, I trust, there is a way
where justice, love, and truth align.
Through courage, we can clear the way
and let our hearts entwine.

— Sincerely, Boris

If I stay a nervous bud
my full bloom will not encroach upon the grandeur of another
& I will invite no retribution
Though the artist in me knows
that a whole field in bloom
Pollinates the world.
Bloom with the artists.

If I stay silent
my words cannot be smithed into a weapon of censure,
and be used to cut me into smaller pieces.
Though the poet takes my words
& alchemises them
into an elixir for healing.
Speak with the poets.

If I smother my fire
I inspire no ire from neighbouring Suns
for whom my shine is a punishable theft of thunder.
Though a sister moon mirrors my light and illuminates the next.
Shine regardless.

If I stay in my armour
my vulnerability cannot become the missile launched at me
by the traitor who begged for my truth
Though an ally reveres my courage
and meets it with the honour of their own open heart.
Open, even though.

That kind of longing you learn once you miss.
Goes by a name only a heart knows how to pronounce,
and doesn’t hesitate to call when you care to listen,
so it absorbs as it unfolds yours every ounce.

Of all the things, it’s absence that can’t be overcome,
a void of crushing torment you have to sustain
alongside hope that one day it will leave.
But that’s like hoping for a night of clear skies
that guides your way home in the middle of the storm.
You might as well sink. As there’s no burden
heavier than the love you can’t give.

Throughout my journey as a child and as an adult, I have come to realize that trust is not a simplistic or singular decision, but a process. It’s not merely about extending trust to others, but about confronting my inner doubts; both about people and about the plan for my life. I’ve learned that my skepticism and reluctance to trust stem from wounds of the past, and from my fear of what might happen if I let go of control. Trust, I now see, isn’t blind; it’s informed by wisdom, discernment, and boundaries.

There were moments when I questioned not just others, but also the divine, wondering why painful experiences were allowed to happen, and why I was left feeling unprotected as a child and later in life as I defended into young adulthood. The uncertainty bred doubt in my own ability to discern who or what was safe. Yet, what I have gained is an understanding that trust begins not with others, but with a foundational trust in a higher purpose, even when the path forward seems obscure.

I learned that trust is not something to be given indiscriminately or withheld entirely. It is an invitation to vulnerability, tempered by the understanding that discernment is a gift, honed through experience. It has become clear to me that trust is less about guarantees of safety or certainty and more about growth through relational and spiritual stretching. There is wisdom in establishing boundaries, not as a form of self-preservation, but as an act of respect for both myself and those around me. Boundaries do not signify the absence of trust, but rather the preservation of healthy, intentional trust.

The deepest lesson, however, is the recognition that trust requires a recalibration of my heart. It is not my role to control or to predict the actions of others or the unfolding of life’s events, but to trust that each step I take, though uncertain, moves me closer to healing. I now understand that trust is a slow dance between wisdom and vulnerability, one that I must navigate with an open yet discerning heart. The fear that held me captive no longer defines my capacity to trust. Instead, trust becomes a daily practice of releasing control, setting healthy limits, and believing that I am safe within divine protection, even when circumstances remain unclear.

—

In childhood’s darkest corners,
Fear lived behind the front door,
A silence I could not question,
But learned not to trust.

Friends, once anchors,
Became driftwood in shallow waters,
Loyalty lost like whispers,
And I abandoned floating alone.

In a failed marriage, trust was a mirror
Shattered by pretense,
Each shard reflecting a version of myself
That I no longer recognized.

Relationships, at times, felt like betrayal,
A wound wrapped in promises,
Yet in moments of intimacy,
I found trust’s delicate bloom.

Now, trust is a flickering light,
Sometimes dim, sometimes strong,
A compass not for others,
But for the faith I rebuild within myself.

— Sincerely, Boris

Raising a daughter has been an unparalleled journey of learning, reflection, and growth. Through the stories of others, I’ve found wisdom that resonates with the deep responsibility and profound love that comes with being a father to my beautiful daughter. One of the greatest lessons I have embraced is that fatherhood is not about control but about nurturing independence. It’s about standing alongside her as she explores the world, offering guidance when she seeks it, and always making sure she knows that my love is her safe place, no matter where life leads her.

I’ve also learned that my role is to model emotional vulnerability. To show her that strength is not in silence, but in expressing her thoughts and feelings with clarity and confidence. This is especially important in a world that often tries to diminish the emotional depth of girls, pushing them to conform to shallow expectations. I want her to understand that her feelings matter, that she is not only allowed to take up space but encouraged to do so fully and unapologetically.

Patience, too, has revealed itself as a critical virtue. I’ve realized that our time together isn’t always about monumental moments but is instead composed of the quiet, steady presence I offer her. She doesn’t need me to be perfect; she needs me to be present. In those small, everyday interactions; the mundane conversations on our walks and on the swing sets, the shared laughter over a meal or movie; our bond grows, and so does her understanding of what a loving relationship looks like.

Finally, I’ve come to appreciate that teaching her resilience is perhaps my greatest duty. Not the kind of resilience that hardens, but the kind that allows her to rise after each fall with grace and strength. I want her to know that failure is never final, that setbacks are simply stepping stones, and that her worth is never defined by the obstacles she encounters. It is in her ability to rise, to face the world with compassion for herself and others, that she will find her true power.

As a single father, I strive to be the kind of man who mirrors these values; not just for her sake but for my own growth, too. Fatherhood is not a journey with a clear destination but a continuous process of becoming. I know that as I guide her, she is guiding me, both of us evolving together in this shared, sacred relationship.

—

I once believed my strength was my own,
Built through hardship and endurance.
But in you, I’ve realized
It’s your presence that keeps me moving forward.

In your laughter, I find hope,
And in your compassion, I understand
That kindness is where real strength lies.
You may be young, but you guide me,
Teaching lessons I didn’t know I needed.

You’ve shown me how to listen,
How to stay patient, and how to nurture growth.
Your resilience is clear in every challenge you face,
You get back up without hesitation.

I’m proud of how independent you’ve become,
Of the way you meet life head-on.
Watching you grow into your own
Is the greatest gift I could have.

You’ve given me strength I never thought I’d need,
And I’m better for having you by my side.

— Sincerely, Boris

Trust begins within. It is an intimate act of self-awareness, a journey of learning to listen to the voice inside, of refining intuition until it feels like an unshakable compass. To trust others, we must first cultivate trust in ourselves; a quiet confidence that our choices, no matter how uncertain, are guided by something deeper, something true. This self-trust is the foundation upon which all other connections rest.

But trust with others is more delicate. It is earned slowly, built through small acts of consistency, vulnerability, and presence. It is fragile; a currency of the heart that requires both patience and persistence. Yet, in the blink of an eye, it can vanish. A single lie, a fleeting betrayal, or even the weight of silence can shatter what took years to nurture. Like glass, once broken, trust rarely returns to its original form. Even in the painstaking process of rebuilding, the cracks remain visible, forever altering its shape.

There is another way trust fades: the slow erosion caused by distance. In time, even without betrayal, trust can slip through our fingers, lost in the space between absence and silence. The image of the person we once trusted morphs, shifts, and no longer resembles the one we held close. Distance, both emotional and physical, can sever the bond, leaving us questioning the very foundation of what was once certain.

Trust, then, is more than a feeling; it is a sacred state of mind. It is a neural symphony, signaling when to lean in and when to step back, when to open our hearts and when to protect them. It shapes our behavior, guiding our actions like an invisible hand.

Cherish the trust you place in others as if it were a tender flame, vulnerable to even the softest breeze. Protect it, nurture it, and do not fear letting go when it no longer feels safe. Your trust is precious, a reflection of how you wish to be held in this world. Trust your instincts; they are the guardians of your soul’s deepest desires.

—

Your words once bloomed in light, sincere,
A stream of truth we both could hear.
Now they shout, of whispering cries,
Drenched in dishonesty, not afraid to lie.

You spoke with heart, each word I’ve longed,
Honesty, bold, unbroken, and strong.
But when did deceit begin to rise?
When did truth crumble beneath the lies?

The lies wear honesty’s disguise,
Sweet poison hidden in your eyes.
And with each word, you drift away;
A stranger now, who once vowed to stay.

Trust is a fragile thing to break,
A bitter pill I’ve learned to take.
Now silence lingers in its wake,
For all that’s left feels cold, and fake.

What’s left to say, when the truth is gone?
The dialogue between us now feels wrong.
So here I stand, beneath your lies,
Watching trust fading, as it dies.

— Sincerely, Boris

Stoic pines are uprooting,
Careless rage
of an indifferent wind.
And when the nerves are exposed
It dies in spent shudder, to our stupefied awe and vulnerable repose.

With a boat made of hope
I'll go sailing
In the search of love
If my heart gets wrecked and crushed
From the storm of empty promises
I'll bury it in the depth of my chest
like treasures from a shipwreck
For you to find it and peace it back together

I loved him with every fiber of my soul,
But the world around us felt like a cage that wouldn't unfold.
The familiar streets, the same old faces,
The comforting routine that slowly lost its place.

My heart beat solely for him,
A love so strong, it felt suffocating.
That his loving arms, his gentle and caring eyes,
Couldn't keep me in a place I can't even disguise.

I needed to leave, to break free from this place's hold,
To find my own path, and make myself whole.
And I wasn't going to give him what he needed,
A love that would anchor him, like a steady heartbeat in turbulent seas.

So I left, before he could keep me by his side,
Shattering his core, and breaking his heart.
In one of my memories, I felt his pain,
Where he stood while I left, his tears falling like rain.

And when it rained, I'd wish his heart sought solace in familiar shores,
While mine sailed to uncharted horizons.
For our story, was like a melody of discordant notes,
Two souls, once in harmony, now drifting remote.

I've found my horizons glow,
Where I sit, trying not to think of him in woe,
For time has changed me,
But not enough to free me from his memories and his pain.

But I'm there again hoping he doesn't think of me, until I saw him again,
Years passed yet he remained unchanged.
But his eyes still held a longing for what could be,
Us, the life I gave away that would have soothed his soul's dark sea.