I’m not one of these perfect women with their perfect lives. I still have no idea how to get what I want. And I want it so much!

     He’s been quiet recently. There’s no words between us. Blank spaces. In all this mess I’ve lost my tongue and I’ve drowned my ideas. I don’t know what to say to avoid awkward silences. Again. I used to have so much to tell, today I don’t say anything. And on the end of my tongue I have so many hidden thoughts, unspeakable sentences, experiences. I wish I could share all of this with him but I don’t feel like he wants it anymore. Maybe not now. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe never.


     He has bitten my sensitivity. Today I can going back home barefoot through the sidewalk full of glass, exhausted. I have time to do make up how I like – red lipstick and eyelashes only, on the top. My eyes are so big and I have those glasses that I don’t know what era they are from (60’s or 70’s). I put them on my nose and don’t look back. That’s what he said: don’t look back. So I look in the future, even if I am these fifteen steps before him. He got lost, I went further.

     I keep quiet recently. Sometimes just getting angry, exploding. I will never grow up. And I know it’s not this place and not this time… For the rest of my life I will feel same, that I meet people in improper moments, unsuitable places. And more often I’m thinking about packing my suitcase and escaping as far away as I can.  And don’t confuse my life anymore.

There’s silence between us because we are lost for words. Don’t you think I’m exaggerating?

Who’s gonna…?

This big city – it’s not mine, at all. I’m walking on the street with an umbrella in my hand and headphones in my ears. I don’t recognize people here, I don’t meet any friends. Still I don’t have my place on earth, but I know it’s somewhere where the sun is shining the whole year and where I would wear short fancy dresses. I like rainy London, I guess, maybe because I’ve met some amazing people here. We walk together on wet streets, breath fumes and freeze at the bus stops. Everyday I look at the city through the bus window, I forget easily.
     I wish I could do everything different still. Still I would like to be someone else and somewhere else.
He tastes like moisture, November to me, sneaks in my mind to my bed quietly, slowly. He is still that one person who I think of every night, even if I know it’s a little bit mad. And I’m still waiting for his call and hope he will take me for a walk. Because he promised he will, one day, not today or this weekend but in the future… Doesn’t matter. He won’t.
     I need settle down. I wish I could have my own flat, cook dinners for him, feed our cat and play with his dog. Hanging pictures of us, from every corner of the world, on the wall and buying cheap furniture form IKEA. I wish I could have a place to go back with him from our travels around the world.
Who’s going to love travels like me?
Who’s gonna love… me?

One Thing.

     Today I want to only one thing – to be with you one day.


To walk barefoot through the stream, holding your hand, listening to the way you speak to me. To have sun and dust on my skin, crying only when falling makes skin scratches on elbows and knees, only a few blisters and ice cream for comfort.

Chasing with a dog through the forest, looking for mushrooms (always finding only the poisoned once, cause they are the prettiest). Your kisses on my forehead, trying new dishes with you in different corners of the world, waiting for your arrival to London, falling asleep in one bed with you, being cuddled by you and being forever safe and small.



And small.

     Grabbing hair is so sexy that when I see the woman in this pub where I am at the moment and she’s touching her hair like that… then I desire her. I want to go to bed with her. I want to kiss that hair, I want to have it on my face, I want to smell mango and peach. I have hidden desires you know? You might get to know them if you come to me and ask why I am here alone. Ask me if I would like another drink. Will you ask me?

     Seduce me, take me home. I hope there is big bed in your room. I don’t need anything else, maybe just cold sheets which we will warm up together.
I want oblivion.


Don’t forget about a thing called LOVE.

     I remember I always wanted be in love. I don’t want to anymore.
Smudged makeup, picking stuff in a rush, watching films till 4 am, laying in bed till late afternoon, vodka, harsh words, a thousand harsh words. That’s what love is to me.

     And… looking straight into the eyes, talking straight to face. With no breaks. So emotionally I think sometimes we’re going to explode.
And… phone calls in the middle of the night, txts full of pretensions and messages full of sorrow recording on the voice mail. Partying till 6 o’clock in the morning, beer on the bench in park near university, green clouds, laying on the grass and staring in the sky. That’s what exactly love means to me.


     He closed the door, once too often. I knew I wouldn’t go back there anymore, like time never goes back. I’ve looked in to his eyes, for the last time. The last time I’ve seen bruises on my skin. I closed the door. My heart hasn’t broken up. The last tear showed up on my cheek. I got in to the taxi, into my own flat I had a shower. Since then I fill my days by reading books, many books. It’s the time which left me after him, without him. Sometimes I’m missing him but not as much as I should.

Love may be killed.

     I have a clear conscience. Fucking border between my heart and mind. Fucking few worlds that you cannot make up. I feel that I’m going round in circles and want so badly for everyone to give me a moments peace. For a few days. Phone to be silent. I don’t want to ‘have to’ and ‘should’ but ‘want’ and ‘can’. I live too fast. Time is not curing my wounds, time is passing by me.


    I want to get away from this place. I’m checking trains every day and thinking about escaping from here. But I have obligations. Adulthood is still scaring me. I still ‘have to’ something and ‘should’. That’s the hardest thing to learn. Because I still ‘want’ less.

brighton     I’ve become lazy. I am so lazy that I’m afraid of normal existence. I feed myself with sounds, beats, samples – all of this rumbling and tumbling inside of me. I get smoke into my lungs, clean my mind. Every single noise get into my head, harder and harder. For a moment i forget where I am and what I’m doing here, but you grab my hand, I’m laughing, speaking a thousand words. I melt. I forget. I remember. I don’t have to anything.

If you know how I feel