Please, God

I don’t get it! Have someone be, and suddently cease exist. I don’t get it, I swear!
We were given this – this… super complex thing called life. Feelings, our personality, the humans around us. We were given this, where “this” means literally everything and “everything” is motherfucking complex.
Someone smart once talked to me about the people reaching God as they grow old, I always thought they are doing it to pray for a smooth ending, but I think they are doing it hoping that “everything” won’t just end, because, dear God, if you really do exist, you can’t turn us into nothing. You can’t turn them, my mother, my dog – into nothing, but if you do, I think you’re doing it because you don’t look us in the eye, invisibly almighty heavenly entity, and I’m not just saying this. Today when I looked Pusha into her eyes, I saw her love, her pain, her serenity – but I swear I also saw her desire to stay with me, I swear she knew what imense pain she will cause and I swear she didn’t want this.
When I dealt with death for the first time, I felt anger. Second time – I felt pitty, and now… I just feel this isn’t fair. And it isn’t – so make it up for us! Let there be Heaven and have everyone roam happy, because they deserve it.
I heard that once you age dealing with death gets easier… but now YOU ARE, and tomorrow might not be.

Duality

I’ve always considered myself a nice, kind, warm person. Not the best there is, but anyway – I felt pretty good about myself. I’m the girl who’s loved by beggars, who cries at movies and news articles and… a lot of things! I hide this 99% of the time. If you’d ask me when’s the last time I cried, I’d say I don’t remember, because I wouldn’t remember the last time I truly cried for me, but shit, I cry for a lot of shit in deep secrecy.

I’m not saying I was feeling Mother fucking Theresa, but remotely close.

I’ll write more about this sometime.

Core

Usually I have nothing awesome to post on here, altho’ a lot of awesome stuff happen, but I live them differently. Awesome moments last way shorter than grim ones!

Tonight, something happened that reminded me that no matter how lonely I may feel sometimes, it’s not really true. One silly sentence changed it all: “i remember u are prude ”

Silly, right? But I’m such a little girl inside.

I am happy at least someone knows this.

Thank you for putting me into the passenger seat tonight.

Spring

I am not ready for Spring.

I realized the winter scenery fit my life better. I miss the short days, which is weird, because they haven’t even regained much power yet. But they fit me better.

I’m not sure if it’s a matter of surroundings, since some couple of days ago, I was defending my life more fierce than a dog defending his bone. It’s not that bad, it really isn’t. It’s not that bad right now.

I guess part of my adaptability involves taking great pride in those regular, good ol’ days. I feel like a phone’s battery. Wear me out and I’ll eventually die in your hands. Plug me in – he hee!

I feel pretty charged right now. Things have been good for these couple of days, but… can I, please, keep the winter daylight? Feel my days fast forwarding?

I am not ready for spring because I am not ready to yearn to feel truly alive.

 

 

For a moment there..

I thought this is my good year. I mean, I’m finishing high school, in autumn I will enrol into the nurses school! Finally! But as I am looking at my oversized red swollen hands, the joy fades away.

It’s cold here, inside my so called home. In the bathroom, I can hear the ice crack beneath the floor, the rug in the kitchen is frozen solid and the water pipes froze. My hands get red maybe after 2 minutes spent there. I can’t manage more than 15 maybe, I can’t use them any more and they ache.

I think yesterday was the day I finally woke up and realized where I am. Maybe the village charm is drifting away, altho’ man, it’s beautiful out here! Imagine a beautiful winter, the most beautiful winter scenery – I see it every minute. Beautiful!

But even with all the beauty surrounding me, I still feel doomed. Ehh, I never stopped being doomed, but sometimes I forget it. Main depression reason? Remembering the damnation.

My hands feel tingly right now. I think the blood heated up or something.

I still think about my mother. I’m sure she went through this.

Doom, more doom.

Metamorphosis

I’ve always wanted to be strong. I was always strong, stronger than most maybe, but I’ve always wanted more. I wanted to be untouchable.

I have reached 80% of that maybe. I am giving it only 80% because there are still things that can bring me down. Death, huge poverty, sickness. I can’t control those, but I can control my feelings outside those circumstances to a 90% point.

Wish come true! Am I happy? Sorta. Expected it to be more. This proves once again that humans are assholes.

Sorta.. sorta…

No me gusta.

2014 is bad

I realized it this morning, when I began wondering if last night I was wishing for genocide at that exact 00:00 moment, not because I carry a hatred for the humankind, but I don’t want to die alone, and I did want to die.

Every past year at midnight on New Eve, I’d wish the same: have a home of my own, one I would never leave. This year I didn’t wish for that. I had death in my mind louder than any shit fireworks my neighbours were throwing.

I am freaking out! What if this year my wish was supposed to come true, and foolishly me wished for death instead of a home?

I don’t want to die, unless everyone else dies with me.

Grinch in peace

My mom gave birth to me when she was 20.

I don’t have a lot of memories of her back then, I… didn’t care much about her. My father meant the world to me and that was enough. It must’ve hurt her. I must’ve been pretty obvious. Kids tend to be obvious.

I remember she was beautiful. She was desired and loved. She had her high school sweetheart following her all over the world, where she’d break his heart every time.

She was pampered at home, dad took care of her.

She wasn’t happy. Schizophrenia hit when she was 28 and 15 years later she died.

What the fuck is gonna happen to me when I’m fucking 28?

I can already see a great deal of her in me.

This Christmas, I’m sending away my family, to let me Grinch in peace. She’d do this to us all the time.

She’d rarely go out. She’d Grinch in peace.

When she did go out, she’d be crazy and… crazy. In a fun, childish sort of way, but still – cuckoo. It was embarrassing. I’d scold her. Maybe I shouldn’t have.

I’m usually crazy. I’m not sure if I’m ever crazy embarrassing, I might be, but then look at A., one of my girlfriends, she carries a bottle of cognac in her purse. And R.- she was very crazy embarrassing.. until one year ago.

What stops us? What will stop me? Will it be a step further towards mental death? Will I give birth to 2, 3 imaginary friends and party on and on in my head, exiling myself from society?

Maybe it’s my dreams that keep me on track and the fact that, hey, they’re not far to reach. I gotta stand up to that Florence Nightingale nickname, don’t I?

It might be a lonely road.