Medical update #5

W tym wpisie będzie dużo wszystkiego po trochu i niekoniecznie po kolei. Ale tak to ze mną jest, żyję w wiecznym chaosie, więc niczego innego się nie można po mnie spodziewać. Ale zaczynając od najważniejszego:

- Dostałam się na psychologię do Wrocławia. Warszawa jak widać nadal mnie nienawidzi, ale to nic. Chyba już wolę Breslau. Pojechałam złożyć papiery i załatwić formalności, zostałam bardzo dobrze ugoszczona u przyjaciółek, które zaoferowały mi nocleg i towarzystwo. Nie udało mi się zwiedzić miasta, ale tyle ile zobaczyłam wystarczyło, żebym poczuła się tam naprawdę dobrze i mogę bez żadnych wyrzutów sumienia spakować swoje graty i się wyprowadzić. Co zapewne nastąpi już niedługo, jeszcze nie wiem gdzie i jak będę mieszkać, ale coś się pewnie wymyśli. 

- Aktualnie przebywam jeszcze nadal w swoim mieszkaniu w Kielcach i cieszę się, gdy ktoś o mnie jeszcze pamięta i zdarzy mu się mnie odwiedzić. Oferuję nawet nocleg, posiłki i całodobową rozrywkę, jako, że ze mnie jest niezły numer jak się dowiedziałam. Swoją drogą zawsze mnie wzrusza, gdy ktoś mówi, że mnie nie sposób zapomnieć. Cieszę się, że trafiam ludziom do pamięci, nawet jeżeli jest to poprzez robienie najdziwniejszych głupot, których nikt inny nie byłby w stanie zrobić. Dzisiaj nawet usłyszałam od dobrej koleżanki, że już zazdrości tym ludziom, których poznam we Wrocławiu. No cóż, mam taką nadzieję, że ktoś mnie tam jeszcze polubi i nie będę się źle czuć na tych studiach. I że spotkam świrów takich jak ja. 

- Ostatnio słucham dużo MS MR i The Neighbourhood i zaczytuję się w komiksowych przygodach Johna Constantine, co skutkuje dziwnymi pisaninami i ciekawymi snami. A jako, że nie mam więcej do dodania na temat swojego life update, to podzielę się ostatnią pisaniną, która powstała pod wpływem i na szybko, ale ponoć jest dosyć udana. Enjoy:

"Light up a cigarette. Breath in this toxic smoke. Breath out all your worries and troubles. Smoke them all away. Cast your demons away. By this simple act of self loathing and destructive sadness. Why would you do something like this? You’re a mental person. Yes of course you are. But if you know that does it make you sane or not? Anyway. Maybe you’re crazy but who is not. We’re all mad here. Ain’t we? In our strange ways. You’re scared of the future so you pick up another bottle of beer and drink it all without thinking. Light morning hangover never bothers you. You are the master of self destructive behavior. Who knows maybe in the darkest corners of your tormented soul you like it. Love it. Just love to hate yourself. It’s a way of living this hell. Believe in nothing because you’ve seen it all. Heaven and hell. And every shade of gray in between. There’s nothing to brag about. It’s just the way it is, you say. So you light another cigarette and laugh bitterly. We all deserve to die. Just some more than the others. You should be dead. But instead you’re alive and flirting with death. Hoping she’ll find her way to take you. Dreaming you’ll live forever. Living like there’s no tomorrow. Oh you, you bastard. Basically a good person but life twisted you every possible way. Are you a villain now? You reply with ‘Every villain is a hero in his own mind’. You’re an anti-hero. And you love it. So smoke as you please. Drink yourself to sleep. And wake up tomorrow to fight all the demons. Like you do every fucking day"

 

Vampire Smile.

Dzisiejszą historię napisałam pod wpływem osobistych doświadczeń, tej piosenki i pewnego serialu. Tak czy siak, wyszło jak wyszło.

Vampire Smile.

Hello, my friend. You seem to remember every detail of this crap but you’ve forgotten about me. And it would break my heart if I had one. Fortunately I am the reasonable part of your mind. Or soul. Or whatever you want to name this. I’m still here even if you keep telling yourself that I’m gone and everything will be normal. Well, it won’t ever be normal. So I guess you should just stop pretending and fooling yourself. But back to the main theme. You remember? Of course you do. But only the good bits. I know the whole story. You dream? Yes, but you should be careful what you really mean. I know. I know all yours ‘what ifs’ and ‘I don’t knows’. I know. And since you’re a bit of a mess it is my responsibility to make sure you know it too. Let’s start with this whole I remember thing. You felt good around people? Really? I don’t want to be mean but the last time you said that, I was the one who held you when all you wanted was to tear them apart. Limb by limb, take off the skin, make bloody smoothies out of brains and veins. Those was your thoughts, not mine. I only tried to stop you. I’m just the voice of reason. And remember the last time you was sleeping with a boy? You wasn’t asleep. You just lied there, next to him, your hands slowly reaching to his throat. Eye pupils all round and shiny. Trembling fingers couldn’t wait to squeeze this fragile skin. You wanted to strangle him in your own bed. And I stopped you. Told you to be quiet and go back to sleep. That’s who you really are. You’re a vampire smile. All your undisclosed desires and needs. You don’t lust for love. You lust for blood. You dream about lying your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Yes. But you only want to listen the rush of blood through the veins. You like that pounding sound. You want to listen to it just before you dig your claws into, reach to the heart, tear it out and taste the sweet red blood. Taste the skin just before you sink your teeth. More blood. That’s what you really want. Even though you keep on telling yourself that you’re not a vicious predator. That you’re different. Normal. No, you’re not. And it’s not your fault. But you have to embrace it. Accept the facts. So you won’t hurt anyone. Well, I really don’t mind but just for the record, let’s keep us on the bright side. Be reasonable. Stop fighting it. It’s in your nature. It’s in you and me. In us. I know you want him. But you need to know that you don’t want him in that way. It’s all about blood. And your hunger. And he’s far away which I guess is good for him. Otherwise you would just tear him apart and drink to the last red drop. The best part of it you wouldn’t be aware of that. You would wake up next to the cold corpse and be frightened. That’s why you need me. To keep you in your chains. And it’s me telling you to let go. Stop thinking about it. About him. Or anyone else you could just hurt and call it love. Vampire smile. Just keep smiling. 

  

Street Cats.

Jedziemy dalej. Dzisiaj będzie krótki tekst, ale za to jak bardzo melancholijno-nostalgiczny. Będzie wspomnienie lat liceum, najlepszego okresu w moim życiu. Będą też (nie moje) zdjęcia mojej mieściny, która kiedyś była najlepszym punktem na świecie, teraz przez 2 lata zmieniła się w jakiś rodzaj więzienia, w którym odbywam karę za uniesienie się pychą. I za lenistwo. No cóż. Parafrazując tekst piosenki: "That's me, that's me, the girl with the broken halo". 

Street Cats.

I remember. 

Most of the time I’m busy with life, daily unimportant things. But there are those nights when I remember everything. We were the street cats, always trying to stay out of troubles but they would find us eventually. Sooner or later. So we were going out, embracing the night, the streets of our darkened town. We had this one special place, this café with room for smokers. Because we were smokers those days. Some of us still are. We used to sat there, drink a few pints, smoke a pack or two, laugh and talk for hours. We were strangers at first but after one beer we were instantly friends. Or something like that. I remember the first time I saw you. I remember how our eyes constantly crossed above the table. Maybe we were talking. Maybe not. It doesn’t matter now. What matters is that one night when we were drinking in that dirty alley. Indirect kisses by cigarettes and vodka bottle. How I fell in love with you. I always fall in love when I’m drunk. But this time was different. I remember you walking me on my bus station. I remember how I clinged onto your arm. I remember how I squeezed your body with that one last hug. I remember your smell on my clothes the next day. I remember all of that. But now we’ve changed. Everything’s changed. And I have to forget. The last time I saw you, you were walking down the street with your girlfriend. And my heart skipped a beat. Because I knew the very moment I’ve met you that we are never going to be together. But I still dreamed. Hoped. And it hurts every time. It hurts when I remember. And no matter how hard I try to forget I always end up remembering every detail. 

I remember. 

But I’m more than sure you’ve forgotten all of that. 

 ***

But we are still the street cats. Maybe we grow up a little. At least we're pretending to be adults but inside we're kids. Just learned how to drink alcohol. But we still walk on the kerbstones instead of pavements. We laugh at the starry sky, make blurry memories. Drunk walking to the store, saying hello to police officers, hiding vodka with a smugly faces. Good times. Maybe without love but still fun. Street cats. Roaming the streets in the middle of the night, when everyone is asleep. That's our time to shine.

 

For what I am (not)

Dzisiaj będzie historyczne wydarzenie na blogu. Otóż zamierzam się podzielić swoimi ostatnimi pisaninami. Oraz ujawnię swoją facjatę, bo będzie pasować do tematu historii. Haczyk jest taki, że story jest po angielsku, a zdjęcie jest zaraz po wyjściu od fryzjera. Tyle się zmieniło, że nie mam już tak ułożonych włosów, teraz żyją swoim własnym życiem. Ale to nic. Powinno dać jakieś wyobrażenie. A i z góry przepraszam za wszelakie błędy gramatyczno-ortograficzne, mimo tylu lat nauki tego języka, nadal mi się zdarzają.

Co mnie tak nagle naszło na takie coś? No cóż. Może nie chciałam być totalnym anonimem, a parę osób już mi pisało, że lubią czytać mojego bloga i czują się lepiej, bo zdarza mi się ubrać w słowa to, co oni mają w głowach, ale sami nie potrafią. Tak więc krótka historia na mój temat, żebyście lepiej mnie poznali.

For what I am (not).

I am that short girl who has to ask random people for help in order to get something from the top shelf. I’ve always been the shortest one in the group. I am a girl with short brown hair. I just don’t care about my looks. There are days when I don’t even brush them, just let them go whatever they want to be. Wind can be my hairdresser. My eyes are blue and people say they’re pretty. But how can I tell, they’re just eyes to me. I swear a lot when I’m angry. And I’m angry almost all the time. I guess I should have some anger management classes. I also can hit you. Doesn’t matter if you’re a boy or a girl, if you’re twice my height. I’m not afraid of possible wounds and bruises. Maybe because I know that flesh can heal a way faster than soul. And my soul has scars like no other. I like to be alone but I hate being lonely. And I feel lonely a lot. I have a few close friends. I’m not that shy I can go out at night and make blurry memories with strangers. But I’m constantly in need of someone really close, someone to hold me when I’m silently crying and shaking. And I cry a lot these days. I can cry when I hear a song that brings me back memories. Or when I stare at the sunset. Even sunrise. Or when I clean my room and find that one little thing which belongs to you. Or when I go to bed and instead of falling asleep I think about everything bad that ever happened to me. I make up the strangest scenarios in my head. But on the other hand I can laugh like crazy at the stupidest jokes. Or I can smile to myself in the middle of something just because I recall some thing that happened over a year ago. What else? My mind is full of song lyrics, books and movie quotes. My hands are used to holding a book, my fingertips are thicker from pushing the guitar strings. My voice can be shaking at the end of the day because I sing almost all the time. When I can’t sing I whistle. I feel more comfortable around boys. I’ve always been a tomboy hanging out with boys next door. Girls were boring to me. I preferred to climb the trees, bruise my knees and run wild instead of sitting at fake tea parties with lots of dolls.

There are many things that I am. And even more that I am not.

I am not a tall skinny girly girl. That type boys love. In fact I’ve never had a boyfriend. But I was in love. I was in love with a girl but she didn’t feel the same about me. I think I was in love with a boy too. I fell in love with people’s souls not gender or looks. And now I’m all alone. It can be good sometimes. I have all bed for myself. But on the other hand I want to belong with someone. I want a soul mate, a best friend, a lover. I crave for one thing I can’t have, I crave for love. And also I’m scared to make any first move. And I don’t have anyone on the horizon which I would date. There are days when it drives me insane. But most of the time I don’t think about it I just live my life. I’m both happy and sad I’m still trying to figure out how can it be.

I to tyle. Zdjęcie też jest super ucięte, ale jego pierwotnym celem było uwiecznić mój hairstyle. Tak czy inaczej, jak się spodoba pisańsko, to mam jeszcze trochę takich krótkich historii in inglisz, którymi mogę się podzielić.