letter nr. 121

Dear Love,

I'm sorry I haven't written you since, you know, a while... I'm thinking of excuses now, but I can't really find any good ones. I haven't found the strength to. There, that might do... 

I'm still stranded on this isle of alone. There's nothing going on in here. The sun rises and it sets and rises again. And I... I just stand by and watch and stare. I stare into the nothingness of my existence till my tears and my blood dry on my skin. I don't even know what day it is. I lost count so long ago. I used to be so enraged screaming and hitting the walls till my knuckles showed, but now... now I don't even bother wiping anymore. I just stare... Sometimes I see things, hideous things coming alive. Frail bodies covered by wrinkled gray skin and a pair of glassy eyes staring right back at me from above some elongated sharp set of teeth. Others are huge, raggedy putrid flesh hanging out from their carcasses and their sockets that once used to hold some eyes. Yet they still stare... And there are those bodyless shadows moving swiftly around me but I can still catch a glimpse of their yellow glowing eyes. They all carry the stench of death. They all whisper, mumble words I can't comprehend, their gibberish getting louder and louder, yet still whispery. They don't scare me no more. They dwell in my head. I've stopped carving them out. They're my only friends now.

Anyways, it's good you're so far away from me. I'd probably kill you if you were near. I'd paint you red and stare right at you while you bleed out. I'd crush you over and over again until you're empty too. I'd suck every bit of life out of you, and drag you to my world of the living dead.

You see, that's the depth I'm floating in these days, and, yes, it's good you're not here, as I'm headed even deeper into this bottomless murk. The echoes of cries and wails would eventually fade. The howls would stop. Memories would merge into this gloom. Every reminder of life would dwindle into nothings. There's nothing left to see anymore. There's nothing left to feel anymore. Nothing to hold on to. Simply nothing. 

Fairwell,

Forver, 

Your Nobody 

letter number 43

dear Love,

I thought I have finally found you, but you... you tricked me again. Another illusion. I don't even know why I still believe you're real. It's so obvious you're not. You're merely a dream, a sigh on my lips... and you will always stay that way. I know this, and yet you trick me every time. Every time you make me believe. You make me believe in you, love. And I,  I simply fall for you. Over and over again. I cannot even begin to tell you how you make me feel. There is so much going on inside me right now. You took my air away...It's so damn hard to catch it again. Part of me doesn't even want to... Anyways, I hate you for doing this to me. And I hate myself too for letting you. I feel weak, trembling like a fucking leaf in the breeze of summer morning. Yes, I'm angry too. I'm mostly angry at myself for letting myself believe in you again. I feel so goddamn stupid. I'm writing to an illusion,  a ghost of my past. I know I'm meant to stay alone, yet here you are haunting me, screwing with my head... I have to

                                                                                   .........

While writing this, Leila was sitting at her desk, the dim light of the lamp touching her skin as she finally let her head down and fell asleep. But the shadows around her were still approaching. She could feel them even with her teary eyes closed. They were just there, refusing to leave her side. And there were just too many to fit inside her. Now they somehow got out. They were always around her too. She could now see them. And they scare the shit out of her. She cannot live, but she cannot die either. Her childish attempts to get rid of her shadows are just ridiculous. She's trapped between these two worlds. The one that is around her, and the one that is inside her. But now her inside world is getting out. She cannot control it anymore. It has grown too much. Her desires need to take a shape. They cannot just roam inside that emptiness anymore.

mister e

'Leila!' She heard him calling. 'Leila!' His voice was echoing over and over again. She knew it wasn't real. She knew it was just a trick her mind plays with her every now and then, but still she turned around hoping for a change. Nothing, except the oak trees hovering above the alley, like some giants. Their leaves were softly dancing in the morning breeze. She got carried away for a moment. That lively green around the slides and swings  mesmerized her. She closed her eyes and felt the wind touching her face, playing with her hair. Then it hit her like an arrow. Where were the birds? Suddenly that deadly silence took over her. All she could hear was her own heartbeat getting louder every second. She picked up her pace. 'You need to get home' she was telling herself, 'have a shower and all's gonna be fine'. It wasn't that easy though. Anxiety was literally choking her. She was fighting hard to get some air in her lungs. All the playground was spinning with her. She felt encaged like something was pulling her back. 'Leila!' She heard her name again. This time it was more intense. She could feel his footsteps behind her getting closer. She turned back but still nothing. She wanted to run but she found her feet weren't obeying her anymore. She fell on her knees. 'Leila!' It came from the inside. That hoarse voice ran through every cell of hers. 'Go away!' she started muttering. 'Go away! Go away! Go away! Go away! Go away!' It got louder each time till she was literally screaming. But still, the echo of his voice was a lot louder. She felt like her head was about to explode. The throbbing pain she felt was cutting its way through her every thought, till there was nothing left, except that overwhelming darkness. And she was falling into its abysmal maze. All her efforts to stop it were in vain. There was nothing to hang on to, nothing to slow her down at least. 'Leila!' - she heard her name again. Now, however, it was a soft child's voice. It can't be, she hadn't met him so early in her life. Or had she? 'Leila come, let me show it to you!' He took her hand. Her first instinct was to break free as she felt the icy touch to the marrow, yet her determination was stronger. 'You need to do this, girl', she encouraged herself. He dragged her to the tree house, up the ladder into the petite chamber. The boy was pointing towards something drawn or written on the wall. She couldn't make it out, as it was way too blurry and she was trembling, or more likely shivering with cold. Only when she saw her fingers turning blue she pulled her hand from his. The sudden movement made her stumble. 'Leila! My dearest Leila!' He turned around and she managed to catch a glimpse of his face before she fell again. It wasn't a boy's face, but a man's, just the way she remembered him: somewhat heavy but sensual cheeks, unshaven with a sloppy look, high, predatory nose, and those deep-set hazel eyes which were staring back at her. He had his lips slightly parted as if he wanted to kiss her,  but it was too late, she was already too far below with his voice reverberating in her head.

Ghost

What went so wrong in her life? Or maybe a better question would be: when has it started going so wrong? Her mind was searching hopelessly for an answer through her memories. She had always made the right choices but yet here she is. Running. Frightened. Deeper into the heart of wilderness with those images flashing back in her head over and over again. No matter how high her speed was she couldn't shake them off. His obnoxious perfume mixed with the stench of cheap vodka was still itching her throat, suffocating her. Stop. Need to stop. Need to breathe. Air. Pure fresh air. Stop and clean your lungs. But her feet weren't listening to her anymore. She kept running, her pace speeding up, till her feet were caught in some dry branches and she stumbled, then finally fell. The moist flavor of the ground hit her face. Such a relief. Her eyes were flooded with tears. That pain came rushing back to her. She felt it in every cell of hers. Excruciating. Agonizing. She took a blurry look at her limbs. There were bruises everywhere. And blood. So much blood. Was it hers? Was it his? She couldn't tell. Not that it mattered anyway. What's done is done. It can't be undone. Her hands were shaking. Her thoughts were shaking. Her entire being was shaking. Is this what freedom looks like, what freedom feels like? No. Definitely not. This can't be it. He was still in her head. Haunting her. Terrorizing her. Splitting her apart from the inside. She could feel his grip. Around her wrist. Pinning her against the wall. On her shoulder. Squeezing tightly. On her waist. Dragging her closer. She could feel her own yelp hammering her brain as he forced himself inside of her. She could feel herself cringe at every of his thrust that dismantled her bit by bit. She could feel her helplessness devouring her consciousness. Wake up! You're not there. Open your eyes! The amorphous silhouettes of some trees stared back at her. She couldn't recognize the place. Even though she's been hiding in there many times. How far has she gone? How long has she been out? There was bright sunshine when all this started. And now she couldn't even find the moon in the sky. She's lost. But that's the least of her concerns now. She so fucked. She has left a mess behind. Someone must have found it by now. He had friends. Disgusting, stomach-churning friends. A heinous smile formed on her lips at the thought that one of them saw what she had done. Saw him lying in coagulated blood in front of her piano. She imagined the rage on each of their faces. That filled her with sheer delight for a second. Shit. She's so fucked.

Letter nr. 17

My dearest hope,

Let me start by telling you I'm sorry.
I'm sorry it's been such a long time since you crossed my mind. With all this humdrum agitation going on around I've completely forgotten about you.
I'm sorry I thought I could live without you. It seems all my efforts are just teardrops in the ocean. I can't change how things work. It's been foolish of me to try to control my own fate. Let's be honest, who does that? It's already been written. Maybe by god, maybe by you, maybe by mister No One. It doesn't really matter. It's been written. It can't be altered. Really who am I to try? I can't even take my own decisions. How could I think I'm able to follow my own path?

I'm truly sorry I've been rejecting all your kind offers of compassion and love. I realize it now how much I covet those things, how much I need you, how much brighter my life would be with you.

I hope. There you go, I said it. I hope... I hope you can find a way to forgive me for my blissful ignorance. I hope you can close your eyes to my rebellious acts and we could be best friends as we were supposed to. I'm asking you to come back to me. Let me dwell in your arms, let your sweet whispers of vanity caress my ears. Take away this tremendous amount of reality, I don't really want it anymore, I don't need it anymore, hell, I don't care about it anymore. Let me dream instead. Dream of the ocean's faint breeze on my face, of its sand tickling my bare feet, dream of warmth and pleasure, of tender touches of fingertips, of a kiss worth dying for. Only you can make me smile again by filling my head with images of a perfect tomorrow. Only you can soothe my insatiable desires. I know, maybe I'm asking you too much, but let me never see the sun again, let me slumber in eternity with you.

                                                                                                                  yours 'til the end Akasha

Dream

of a world where shadows dance under the fluttering leaves of willows, where the slight breeze of the night hushes every echo, where the moon smiles in the limpid waters of the river, where it rains with tears of love, where the scent of the roses wishes you sweet dreams, where I can find you...you, you are in my eyes, you are under my skin, you are in my veins, you are in my thoughts, you are everywhere in me. You are calling me and I let myself carried away by your whispers, and I crave to stay in this trance. Always sounds so nice now. Forever yours. Eternity is awaiting and it's ours. I reach out for your hands and I sway towards you. That look... your eyes filled with fire. The universe revolving frenziedly around us. It's perfect. The electrifying warmth of your body runs through me as your fingertips touch mine. Then they lock firmly, tightly, pulling us closer to each other. Skin on skin, your breath on my lips, a moment of utter silence... Just for one moment I was purely happy. But then the air came more forcefully, more abusively into my lungs. And I wake up to see some agitated, stranger faces hustling around me. I try to close my eyes again, but you... You're gone. And I find myself peering into the empty darkness, listening to the roar of the waves breaking bellow my feet. My mind is stuck on this same pattern endlessly repeating itself; it's so addictive, so tranquil...and there's this dream of a world, where...

once we were called... nothing

There was a time when we used to hang out without any reason... we would throw the ball at each other and laugh, we would spy on people, we would build snow castles, we would stare at the stars by the campfire, we would tell each other anything and everything. Do you still remember all that? Now, now I just wonder when, if ever, comes that moment I fake my last smile around you. 
When has it gone so wrong? What happened with ‘no secrets’? What happened with ‘I’ll never let you go’? I guess our past, our heritage has caught up on us. Simple became complicated. Overnight it seems. We can't even tell the difference between love and hate. There is none anymore, I guess. The line between them is so frail, that it's barely even called a line. It's been warped by confusion and defiance. And by that other thing - selfishness. Maybe we've just grown up, grown into this world of self care. Or is it self destruction? 
And we're here smiling and being conventional, trying to hide, to control. We talk about petty things, we make courtesy calls, we keep in touch just in case... I start wondering in case of what? We both know deep inside it won't ever be as it used to be. It's too late for that now. When I look into your eyes I still feel that kiss, you know. It's like you're a dream. I feel I'm living in a dream. I don't even see you as you are now. I'm seeing you as you were then. It feels so real that sometimes I almost forget that you're different now, that we're different now. That kiss... that kiss was something. It triggered a look of sheer bliss in your eyes. It was a moment of ardent pleasure, a grasp of what eternity feels like. You were in me, and I was in you.
But now we're here smiling at each other like nothing has ever happened. It's a you-can't-touch-me, you-don't-know-me, you-can't-hurt-me smile. We're nothing but two puppets - cold, lifeless, careless. We're nothing but two strangers inured to the own self, feeding on each other's suffering. We're nothing...
And yet again we're here smiling and telling lies to each other, too afraid to open up again. We're building our impenetrable walls around us, which become thicker and thicker with every day that goes by. We're perfectly safe now from each other and from everything else...we're perfectly isolated in our shells...perfectly alone...

wish upon a star

There’s this place where whispers are shivering through lifeless creatures of this earth, where time stands still, peering into the gloom, where every moment reeks of that rotten meat scattered all over the ground.

She was pacing quietly, constantly feeling for a spot where she could put her feet without getting too messy. Her head was filled with memories that didn’t even seem to be hers. She kept searching among them for that specific one which could tell her how the hell she got there. But all she saw, all she remembered was this laughter, her laughter, hovering in the air while she was swinging on a truck tire hanging from a high branch of an oak tree. She remembered the leaves dancing in the soft breeze created by the swing, she remembered the acorns smiling at her from above, she remembered the deep blue sky behind those branches, and she remembered feeling happy. Then she jumped. She jumped into an ocean of baby blue eyes. She was floating on them flaring her nostrils for their perfume to enter her whole being. With her eyes closed she was lost in her feelings of elation. Then she remembered where she was in fact. She forced her eyes open, trying to make out something in that darkness, but all she sensed was that hideous smell raping her. Although every tiny bit of her screamed with revulsion, she kept pacing in hope to find something. Anything. There was nothing, just the desperate loneliness that followed her. Eventually she burst into tears. She felt that salty water streaming down her face, then cutting in her flesh. Excruciating pain ran through her whole being. There was so much of it. She started gasping for air. ‘Stop crying!’ She repeated those words over and over again. The effect was the desired one. She was so relieved finally breathing in that air of putrefaction. She started to feel home. There was more certainty in her pace now. She was alive. She must still be alive.

There’s this place that swings above the abyss of life, trapped in eternity. She looked up; there was a clear sky filled with stars…

hmmm? love, you were saying?

How can it be I hear you breathe when you’re years away? I still have things to do, a life to live. I’ve never asked you to come and yet here you are: lurking in the shadows, hiding under a hood, like some coward. Show me your faceless face; I’m not afraid to see you. I’m not afraid to see what you truly are. Just come out and tell me why you are here? Just to mess with my head? Again? You really think flashing your scythe scares me? Blades are like toys to me, remember? You taught me once how to play with them. Don’t pretend you forgot all about that. I wanted you then. I needed you then. But you chose to walk away from me. And now you’re back. The thing is… now is not a good time for me. I’m busy with that meaningless everyday routine of mine. And you know what? I happen to like it. So I’m asking you again: how can it be I feel you breathe towards me? Our time has not yet come. I know that and you know that. What are you doing here? Turn around, leave me be, I’ll do just the same…Let’s pretend I never sensed your presence, I never longed for your kiss, I never wanted to forget about everything and go with you. Let’s pretend you were never here. Maybe and just maybe we were never meant to be…

darkness

She lay on her bed trying to fall asleep. She closed her eyes several times, but always ended up opening them as she had the bizarre feeling that someone is watching her. All the shapes in her room were in perfect order and yet she was experiencing a high level of anxiety. Her breaths were deep and rare, her breasts visibly rising and falling. In an attempt to calm herself down she clasped her hands against her chest. This made her feel even worse – as if she was obstructing her lungs to deliver the oxygen through the rest of her body. A heat wave reached her brains. She was trying to concentrate so hard on something, anything in fact. The shooting stars that were visible through her window seemed particularly attractive, and any other time they would’ve totally captured her attention, but now she just couldn’t stop the numbness. Petrified, with her heart wanting to jump out of its place, tears running down her cheeks she was gazing into the darkness, shaking, she was continuously telling herself ‘this is ridiculous’. Her pupils widened to a maximum. She could feel the presence so close to her. She could feel its stinky breath in the air. She could feel its rage consuming every cell of her. And she just lay there helplessly waiting for it to appear. It never did.

She loathed this form of it with all her heart. It was dreadful and abusive. 

scream blue murder - forgive me father (i have sinned)

She looked down to the water breaking against the craggy cliffs, while the evening breeze drifted through her hair as if it was pushing her further towards the whispering ocean. Mesmerized by its calling with her eyes closed she took one more step to feel the voices closer. If only she could make out the words… They’ve been hunting her for a while now, always there, always tempting her, always driving her that particular spot. She just stood there on the edge wanting to touch the scorching heat of the water.

Out of the blue someone took her hand and pulled her back. ‘It’s time’ he said. The words were cutting through her brains, so clearly, so loudly, disturbing that soft rhythm of the murmur, forcing her back to reality. A feeling of anger took over her for a moment, but it subsided as soon as she realized he was right. She followed his lead silently to the stage.

Her colleagues were already entertaining the crowd with some riffs. The place was crammed and raucous. Every tiny bit of her wanted to turn the other way round and run. She was suffocating. Then she heard him greeting them, introducing their song, they’d spent so much time writing. On the spur of the moment she felt attraction towards him. His tousled long dark hair locks falling down his shoulders, his pitch black eyeliner highlighting the depth of his pupils, his dark lipstick on his lips, tinged with a shade of bloody red, trembling softly as he spoke, the shiny edges of his spiked collar, his glistening skin of his chest showing a little from underneath his laced shirt, his tight leather pants lured her closer. Captivated by his eyes burning with passion she took the microphone and started playing her part. The crisp air of the fan hitting her face, somewhat made her forget where she was. The crowd blurred in front of her eyes into the ocean waves. She breathed in its relieving quietness. All she could see or feel was the blazing ocean. Engulfed in flames coming from within, her heart was thumping, as a sense of elation ran through her veins filling her whole being. Their clamorous screams faded into a faint whisper of the deep water. A barely noticeable smile flashed on her lips. They were all dead. Now she could concentrate all her energy on him.

changes

Yesterday I packed my things and went to see the world without any hesitation. No fear, no regrets, no worries, no plans for tomorrow. There was just the pure curiosity, the thirst of learning something new, different, the wish to evolve into something better. Today I think twice before crossing a damn street. Is this what kids do to you? Is this what being a grown-up means, what evolution means? Responsibility, organization, adapting, chains? It’s like I’m trapped inside my own life, and the more I want to find the way out, the more I get buried in the maze. 

once upon a time

I remember those icy winter days when we used to wake up early in the morning to go to my grandfathers’. There was not a single trace of stars on the sky as we set off. The fog was so thick that we hardly could make out each others’ shape even though we were pretty close to one another.  The streets were empty except some cars here and there half buried in the snow. It was a real adventure making our ways on sledges by them. I would pick up snow, make it into balls and start a war against my brother and cousins. When we arrived at last, dripping wet, my grandfather was already waiting fully equipped; he was wearing his leather apron and was sharpening his set of knives and axes. We would sit in the house and jostle for a better position in front of the only window that was looking onto the yard to see grandpa slay the hog. It took three or four men to hold it down as it was weighing about 600 pounds. Even with chains they hardly could control it. Then grandpa stuck a knife in its neck and kept it there until somebody quickly came with a bucket and held it in such a manner that the blood would stream into it. It was a difficult task because the hog kicked and screamed, but they still managed to drain almost all of its blood into the bucket. It was a marvelous view to see that little that was spilled steaming as it came in contact with the snow. Only when the hog stopped moving were we allowed to go outside and taste the fresh blood. Then it was given to the women who were already boiling the rice and were chopping green parsley, dill and other green stuff that would be used to make some fine sausages. Outside the hog was washed with snow and then scorched. I was allowed to hold the torch for a little while. Then it was put on the huge table and grandpa would chop it in pieces, starting with the ears as we hardly could wait to nibble on the tip of them. By the time the sun was high in the sky people were swarming through the yard taking little by little half of the hog with them. The other half of the meat was portioned and put in the freezer. From that point everybody moved inside. The internal organs (heart, liver, kidney, lungs, tongue, spleen) were minced, seasoned, mixed with some rice and pushed into the guts. And so was the boiled blood. The fat was melt and the lard was separated from the scraps; the head, tail, legs and what was left from the ears were boiled and made into aspic.

Too bad my kids won’t experience things like this thanks to our beloved Europe. Now you cannot keep a damn chicken in your own yard in the city as it is considered a source of noise pollution and olfactory discomfort. I keep wondering why they haven’t prohibited the use of cars on the same criteria…

addicted

Today we live in a world designed to provide us with heavy dependencies. We depend on our jobs. We spend eight long hours a day, five or six days a week working our asses off for somebody who doesn’t give a shit if you live or die. What’s more we try to build ourselves a successful career just to make sure we have enough money, and we most likely forget to live for ourselves, to settle down, get married and have kids. Of course the continuous income is enticing as hell. We need it to buy necessary and unnecessary stuff as we’ve long forgotten how to grow our food or how to manufacture allurements of the eye. So we purchase our semi- or fully-prepared meals conveniently from the supermarkets, sometimes not even knowing how it looked like when it was alive, and our knick-knacks from the ‘time-and money-saving’ malls and shopping centers. We make our choices depending on their special discounts and bargains, and on some advertisements that are just thrust upon us by the media. There are billboards everywhere on the streets, posters in shops, banners on websites, spam in our private mails, flyers in our mailboxes. So, without even realizing it, we come to buy products because they’re promoted not because of their quality or products that we don’t even know what to do with just because they have a pretty persuasive ad. On top of all this we believe that we actually enjoy the guaranteed right to freedom of choice whereas in point of fact we depend on some monopolies like electricity companies, which thrive by providing a fundamental service that we’re practically dead without. We need electricity to make all this new revolutionary technology, that helps us live more comfortably, functional. We are way too attached to the bulbs that illuminate the boxes we call a home, to our electric ovens, stoves, microwaves and all sorts of kitchen robots that save us our precious time, to the fridge and washing machine we simply can’t do without, to our vital security systems that give the feeling of being snug as a rug, nevertheless to our indispensable accessories such as laptops and tablets, which aid us in staying connected to this whole world. We desperately need to check our mails, messages and the like lists on Facebook, where we share banners advertising that life is outside. All the same we nod our heads in agreement, maybe give it a like and keep staring at the screen and running the power. We depend so much on the inside of our home, where we feel protected from the dangers of the outside world. Instead of going out in the treacherous nature we prefer to connect our system to some channel that broadcasts about ‘wild life’ or stare at the fishes in our aquarium when we want to induce ourselves a relaxing state of mind. Instead of enjoying the society of a real person we prefer to make friends with complete strangers from the network. We go even there to choose our life-partners based on some profile matching sites. We became so ignorant that we don’t know how to choose anymore and what to do with our choices. Blinded by this need to make ourselves indispensable to others, we simply slip into a routine of some actions that we think we need to undertake to keep up the pace with the world. Ironically we’re still looking forward to our bleak future.

users

She caught a whiff of a familiar fragrance the moment she entered her room. So sweet, so much different from the pungent odour of alcohol mixed with stale sweat. Her head was still rumbling from the deafening row of the loudspeakers. It was still hard to hear her own thoughts. Her heart started to get back to a normal rhythm as she felt that imaginary safety taking over her whole being. She gently closed the door behind her trying to avoid the squeaking sound, with no success, of course. A flashing image of her mother having that disappointed look came across her mind. She never yelled at her, never beat her, she just stood there with that stupid look on her face. She shook her head violently chasing away that thought. She just didn’t want to think about the consequences of her actions. She felt the wall looking for the switch. As she flicked it the light flashed into her face making her close her eyes. It took a couple of moments until she got used to the brightness. She headed towards the bed, but suddenly she remembered that she wasn’t tired at all, so she decided to go to the bathroom instead. She sat down in front of her make-up mirror and started looking for her cotton ball to wipe her face clean. When she raised her head some hazel deep-set eyes stared back at her. She focused hard to catch some details of what was left of her morning make-up. To her surprise it wasn’t smudged as badly as she thought. The traces of her eyeliner were still pitch black highlighting the emptiness in her eyes, the bluish purple eyeshadow went a little bit pale, but it was hardly noticeable behind those long black eyelashes. The foundation on her cheeks seemed also intact. However, the glossiness of her lipstick wore off leaving her full lips in their pure form. Still, a perfect mask to hide behind. She gathered her locks in a ponytail and started to wipe that mask away revealing her true self. She saw anxiety mixed with anger and hatred staring back at her. She closed her eyes and counted to ten, but when she opened them again those feelings just got worse. She was wondering why she even tried it; it has never worked before, not once, not for her. She could feel her heart pumping blood towards her brain, making her burn. A constant shrieking sound replaced the music in her head bringing her on the verge of exploding. The emotions kept overwhelming her. She was seething with rage now and she didn’t even know why. She couldn’t just hold it back anymore, she had to do something. She stripped her clothes off and hurried straight under the shower. As she was trying to focus on the water she caught a glimpse of the needle mark on her arm. Definitely visible, she thought. She’ll have to explain it tomorrow. All she wanted to do was to scream. Just like a banshee. That would have relieved that intense pressure inside her but she held it back. She didn’t want to end up in a freak show again. The last thing she needed was those curious eyes which would have certainly gathered around her penetrating her private place. No, she didn’t want that. So she screamed inside what made the stabbing pain in her head unbearable. She started staring at her back arm. Surely it would fulfill her needs once again. Without realizing it she was scouting the room for her purse. She found it right next to the chair leg. After some rummaging she pulled out a ready to use syringe. She tightened her belt around her arm, pulled it with her teeth and stuck the needle exactly in the small wound made by the previous ones. At once the feeling of easiness took over her.  The pain changed into a light constant rhythm. She heard the waves of the ocean splashing against the rocks down below her feet. The seagulls were squawking from time to time somewhere far away, hiding from the driving rain. She just stood there on the edge staring at the drops in the freezing water. That moment was the long expected alleviation. No more frightening tomorrows, no more satisfactory reasoning, no more keeping up appearances, no more hiding behind masks, no more pretending it’ll be fine one day, no more concealed tears, no more humdrum living, no more…just the sound of the drops hitting the water…

power of money

Once upon a time there was a child, the apple of everybody’s eye in the small village. He spent his childhood flitting from one smile to another. No fear, no hurting, not even a single twinge of sadness filtered into his life. No wonder he wanted to give back what he received, so one fine day he decided to become a priest, thinking it was the best way for doing that. He was over the moon when he got into the college. All was just turning up the way he planned. Then he met his colleagues. They were like chalk and cheese, funny colorful fellows – each and every one of them, having different social and financial backgrounds, different beliefs, different tastes. The one thing they had in common was their motivation. They all thought that the god business is a good business. Neither his teachers were any different. Some of them even requested an amount of money to give the students permission to sit in their exam. No need to say he was bitterly disappointed. However, he graduated from that university and started practicing as a priest in his home village, where to his surprise the series of disappointments persisted. An elderly lady came to confession. After she enumerated her sins she handed over an envelope containing a sum of money hoping her sins would be more easily forgiven; the mayor came to his office and asked him without any trace of shame to promote his campaign after service. Once again he found himself holding an envelope before having the chance to disagree on the proposition. It was only then he started to realize what his former colleagues were talking about. Money simply kept flowing into his bank account without pulling his finger out. One day he remembered why he wanted to follow this path in life and decided to try his luck someplace else. He got himself a meeting with the archbishop and requested a transfer to a church in a town. It cost him an arm and a leg, but he got what he wished for. It was all over again the same story in different clothing. Today people  simply just buy everything may it be of material or spiritual value.

Let’s just keep telling ourselves that we make the money and not vice versa.

christmas thoughts

I bumped into a classmate of mine the other day. It was christmas day in the morning. She was in a hurry, just like everybody else, rushing to do the last shoppings before the ‘big’ day. She was after the sweet rolled dough filled with nuts, a must have, especially if you buy it from Annie’s Home Made. She said hello, smiled politely, asked about my health bla bla bla. To my surprise I answered  the same way although all I wanted to do was to smash that pretty dimpled face of hers against the wall. I’m hundred percent positive that the feeling was mutual. We had lived once to make each others life miserable. Still, it was christmas. We had to show kindness, right? This is what it’s all about: being nice to people who you haven’t been in touch with for a long time, being nice to people who come unscrupulously to knock on your door and sing a carol, being nice to people who at the end of the year suddenly remember that you still breathe, being nice to people who show up once in a while asking for favors and now they’re just paying their respect, being nice to people you’d rather see two meters under the ground…All these colorful species just keep coming and going through your home and you find yourself smiling and welcoming, setting specific dishes on the table, and everybody is nibbling on the food, which you ordered so carefully from a catering service. Why the hell should you bother to cook if you anyway throw away most of it? But it’s part of the picture: the rissoles, schnitzels, roulades and boeuf salads, the sweet rolled dough,  the plastic christmas tree with the star on the top full of jelly filled chocolate candies wrapped nicely in shiny colored tinfoil, the blinking lights on the tree, on your roof, on your entrance door, on your back door, everywhere, the large red socks hanging from your fireplace where the fire’s still smouldering…When you come to think of it you created this pixel perfect picture just to show these people that you’re not any different from them, that you’re doing the same thing on the same occasion as they are, and maybe you try to attach some meaning to it, you spoil yourself with the thought  that you’re celebrating something called life, where in fact what you do is just the yearly routine, nothing special, nothing meaningful.