aaaaaaa nononononono
i wrote and did not expect anything back
so when i got nothing, i just moved on and didn't care

Unfortunately, i got something today.

and-and-

ohiminsuchdeepmerde

100+55+200+100 kcal

9.6 kilos

15 more to go

21 days

day 16th

17,22,24,29,31,5

day 24th

chapter 6,7

flight number LO0027

Black as the devil, hot as hell, pure as an angel, sweet as love.

I'm not brave enough to write to him.

edit: July 16

Well. Maybe i am, after all.
so what, if there ws no response??
I definitely should stop reading ff.

so i'm sitting here studying french/ it's 1 a.m., and plus que parfait mixes with conditionel, and i suddenly come to realize that the dream is long over and will never be back, and summer does not bring relief. Hence, i am not able to do my homework which is to describe my dreams ang get a little freudian.
which somehow enforces me in my stupidity and narcissim.

We are sitting in dunkin' donuts, stunned by the pink tables and distant pop music from the speaker, inhaling the precious smell of coffee and donuts. You are drinking latte, medium size, i try not to look at your lips and take a sip of water instead, thinking if you noticed. A tiny fragment of my imagination draws impossible pictures in my nerves, dalis and magrittes of unconsciousness, and i sink into the stream of it, not noticing.

"...so. you know. and, well, i was just thinking, that, maybe, if you would still want..."
he is nervous, his eyes shining and fingers slowly tapping the table, waiting.

then, maybe, its not that impossible at all. I look at his hair now, remembering the smell, or maybe just dreaming, and go back

I lost myself with the day i met you, only i didnt know it yet.
It was me who stared for hours, it was you who first spoke to me on those funny little plastic fauteils in the hallway.
I took you into dreams and past, you took me into the future.
You teared off the body and released the soul
i ignored the "cautious, love" sign
you knew the sign had no right to exist.

so i stood there alone, soul screaming to the moon, by the blue trees and wet grass, curious animals peeking at me.

and now we're here, the situation too bizarre to be true,
and i get myself a latte.

Nie wiem kim jestem.
And i'm not sure if i want to find out.

It's 4th of July.
Fireworks can be seen somewhere in the background.
I feel fresh and light and wow its never been like that before.

my ten commandments change with every turn in my mind, and right know there is only one left, this being -from tomorrow only fruits and veggies available-
which is gonna last few days, stop, and then change, and it will be -or maybe some fish and tons of water-

ha!
i'm not going home.
i dont have money.
i probably got 1 on my ap test.
i willl have seven of them next may.
my room's cleaness (?) dropped to about -100 in a 1-10 scale.

but i want to go, swirl, laugh, talk, run, love, hate, and dance to the fascinating music of exhaustion and satisfaction and oh-so-soon freedom.

i have something important, the most important thing i could ever have.

and im happy.

and i will be happier.

and oh i can't wait!!

great.
if i could only do it again, i wouldnt spoil it this time, no.
i promise.
so worthless.
piece of dust.
but why does the cleaner keep omitting me?

ta-dam, my dreams fall into pieces again
and again
and again

until the very precised
drop
will fill the goblet
of disappointments

Oh. Maybe its not that bad, afterrr all.

I miss simplicity.

The voices come from downstairs, I know, but in my mind they split and divide and hide in every corner
It's hot and humid, and i smile and try not to laugh when i feel the tender rain on my face.
Oh, ok. i guess i'll miss him. a bit.
like i miss marek and tobiasz and wojtek and steve, and all those nameless men seen on the streets.
It happens. Won't happen to me.
Drinking the water of Lethe
I give myself for the nymphs of stynx, but i have only dollars, and they dont work in the land of the dead, so the nameless souls catch me and tear me apart, and i cannot breathe nor die, caught in a myth i cannot escape.
I wake up
(they're singing happy birthday, and, oh my god, cant they stop?)
as always, curled in that wierd embrion-like shape, which, along with talking to myself and cutting and resignation and gaining weight are signs of depression, and i feel like ashes.
nervously eating a toothpick, i can think that only
once. not anymore.
(they are still talking, singing, sometimes, and i feel ashamed of being myself)

I fail to ignore the feeling in my heart. Not quite missing her, because i never really missed anybody, not quite feeling homesick nor lonely. Just a bitter acceptation of a home empty and getting dirty until i clean it, food not ready until i do it. I dont call everyday like i used to. I guess its because i cant stand the feeling of envy that i dont get to go home this year.

Everything's a copy of a copy of a copy, but those little scares on the character make him unique and perfect.

Deprecha.
Znowu.

Probuje nie utopic sie powietrzem.
Chociaz tak wlasciwie wcale nie chce przezyc
och.

Poszlam do sklepu, w sklepie przerazilam sie niesamowicie onirycznych potworow wwystajacych zza lustra, i ucieklam pozostawiajac za soba 109 dolarow.
co wcale nie poprawilo mi humoru, nie.

boje sie. tak po prostu. nogi sie pode mna uginaja. a to przeciez tylko egzamin.

Shhh......

listen.

feel the cold rain on your face.

Heh. Here i am, listening to the beatles again, each time discovering something new in their music.
Each time a different album, different song, different voice, mixes up with others and creates something so fascinating and magical, and narcotizing (is it a word?), and suddenly im sure that no one and nothing can appeal to my brighter side but them.

-but-

Eleanor Rigby
died.
And nobody will come.
But, hey, look at the brighter side
who listens to the beatles today?

The world hurts, killing me, and i want to escape, escape, ESCAPE, not hear those voices, not listen to them, people who are phony and ignorant, and the beach is far more important than this play, and i discover that its also me, than im phony too, and fake, so meaningless, and i cant help my desire to scream like hell, scream fuck off with my entire breath, but instead i just say sure, i'll help you, and i hate him, and hate myself for lies, lies everywhere, always, surrounding me, being part of myself, and no, i didnt suppose it either, but can u stop smiling like u always do and instead just say why?, cause, fuck, i cant stand those saturdays, and, fuck, itll be the same as week ago, and two weeks, and month, and i cant feel anything more but something burning me from inside, something, that, despite everything, makes me cry when i dont want to wake up, and i suddenly wish that i just never never never saw you again, and i know i cant, cause its in there, somewhere, inside that thing that pumps my blood even though id wish it to stop.

(sometimes, however, events change their course, and erased memory,  tomatoes, painted sky and bangs force that weird contraction of face muscles called a smile)

It would seem that the change happened so quickly that i didnt even have time to realize it, but no.
The world changes and swirls, capturing me with the wind, and nothing is stable and sure anymore, and i do not know what does home mean, and where is it, and why do i want my home to be my castle, and not a temporary tent.
Why did the changes were so unexpected and so sudden and why cant i sing my expose to the whole world
ha.
ha
ha 
ha.
I win this time.


kurwa!
wystarczy jedna piosenka i cale moje tak zwane zycie trafia szlag.      

   

cabinet de curiosités
jak dym po moich myslach
plynie

upadamy
wznosimy sie
trwamy
w nieprzerwanej sinusoidzie istnienia

w koncu wiem co znaczy sic.

I shall please.
and breake the borders of reality and illusion.

(kim jestem?
czlowiek niemogacy okreslic siebie, swojej osobowosci tudziez przynaleznosci do okreslonej grupy spolecznej nie moze okreslic niczego, tym samym skazujac sie na ostracyzm i zycie z dala od populacji)

Staring randomly into the orange sky with moving stars.
Im...
wasted.
yes.
good word.
something's missing in the puzzle, and i do not know why.
And so the center is still a mystery, and edges are getting more blurry each day.
but i dont feel like finding out whats inside
really, honestly, solemnly-----

all i want is to sleep.
(hey, confirm it, you're just too lazy to do anything but sleep)

Oh. and i think im getting mad.
Or maybe im just getting slightly more insane than what i used to be.

pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasestopthetimepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease

My life has been recently revolving around everything that has anything to do with the isles- except of Ulissess (but this is cause i hate the book).
Btw- the last time when i was in his grave, there was only me and Karol. I wonder how many people are there now.
Its your fault.
You infected me with everything thats irish/british- language, climate, culture, even cute Irish guys^^. And, well, their accent. I hope to improve mine, someday.
And sheep.
small walls
the sound of rain on a cloudy day
the smell of ozone on the fields
(cars on the left side)
pounds. bombs. IRA.


but, well, its all locked up safely inside.
Until the time comes.
and it will xD

We will go- across the universe, or even further
to meet the great A'thuin
(and prove that earth is flat)
holding hands
gasping breaths.
and reach beyond the world.
(but fairytales aint real)

Kurwa.

i to tyle jesli chodzi o milosc.
(to nie powietrze)

Nothing is what it seems to be.
*(or am i dreaming?)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(doesnt work)

Its morning, yes. but im not awake.
( I emptied my heart down the road)

Its happening again.
Only in a different place, cause summer is getting closer.

(and, yes, i know. If i'll fail, i'll fail. no returns, no forgiveness. I do not expect it)

Hey, romeo, what'll you say now?
(you shouldnt come around near)
Yeah. a movie song.

Che.
Guevara.
Guerilla.
Guerre.
Guernica.
Gioconda.

at first, i thought-

it won’t work

the walls are too thick

and the key is lost

but the crack appeared

(its a simple reaction: nitroglycerin + heat)

and now a cat looks

at me, smiling

kyo, i think, and i see-

i’m in a different fable now

so clear, so beautiful

so… never ending

the story of wonders

 

me met in the space
full of electrons
not knowing
when did we learn
each others music

and
        


               for a moment
                                     


                                                  we needed
                                                            


                                                                                  guidelines
                                                                                    
                                                                                                             

                                                                                                                     for breathing