Make Me One.

     I want to be your glass of hot milk in the middle of the night and cigarette in the morning. Be next to me and don’t let me go from yours hands. PLEASE. Because I’m useless when I fall apart like that. Tuck me into bed. Whisper a love supreme, my lovely.


     Sit down with me on the bench. I will wear your jumper and put my head on your arm. We plan our life. You’ll buy me a bunch of freesias. Cheer me up when I get sad. Leave me when I will be unbearable. Argue when I won’t be right. We will go to bed, there we’ll make a love to reunite, half naked. You will give me presents, take me on trips. I will be crying for no reason because that’s how I am sometimes – immature. You will be patient, thoughtful, open, funny. I will make you laugh, angry, confused. I will make you happy. You will show me new places and meet new people. With me.

     Live with me. We will be drinking vodka on the rooftop at 5 o’clock in the morning. I will cook dinners for you and sing lullabies. You will take me photos. A lot of photos. I will cry at nights when you won’t come back home, because we had a fight (again). And I will call you on a lunch break to ask how work is going and you will miss my calls because you are always so fucking busy. I will go for couple of drinks on Wednesday evening after work with colleagues and forget to tell you about it, because I always forget things. You will be waiting for me on the stairs outside of our house till I come back because you forget your keys, again. And we will talk how our day was. You will close the window when I get cold and collect dirty mugs which I will leave everywhere. I will organize your office and iron your shirts. We will build an ecosystem.

Will. You. Make. Me. One.

Forget Everything. With Me.

     My nights are too short, my dreams are too heavy. Someone in my dream is grabbing my hand. After that… just NOTHING.


NOTHING is coming everywhere, coming through me. I’m smoking a spliff, watching trains and drinking vodka.

Forget everything with me, my love. Listen to the Universe when it breathes between happiness and misery in the cold winter night.

     And even when my hips tell you what I want tonight, don’t do it with me. I’m still so small and innocent. I am your bliss.

Forget everything with me, Clyde

Boring (person?)

     I go to bed late at night. Wake up early morning. I don’t dream anything. Good or bad. I don’t live, I subsist. I have nothing interesting to say. I don’t stand out to people who I pass every day on my way to work. My life is atrociously ordinary. No one notices me in the crowd. I am one of many – the unit forming part of the cell. I would like to be an individual.

blog now

I can’t be focused on anything. I don’t do anything with passion, I do this because I have to, not because i want to. Life is passing me by. Every day I’m chasing it, disappearing shadow on the corner of the street where I live since last summer. I can’t run fast enough to catch up passing time.

     Men get tired with me. Late enough to break my heart and early enough to let me meet another douchebag who’s going to do same thing. For sure.

I’m desensitized. For good. Frozen. I’m wasting time. Don’t look back. Somewhere between gin and tonic. Somewhere between laugh, dance, crave. Obvilion. Somewhere between phone call. Short chat, about nothing. I keep distance. I do not become attached. And I’m cute. As hell. Always.

There’s no feelings, somehow.

No eye-openers.

No superfluous words.

No redundant smiles.

Is… Unnecessarily.

Do what you love.

     Every day is the same. Flat – work. Book, film, talk about nothing in the evening. Sometimes I eat something, more often I’m existing with an empty stomach.  I wake up in the morning,  make up, dressing up. Nothing surprises me, nothing makes me happy. I fall asleep easily. I can’t force myself to do anything. I feel terribly lonely. I don’t want to tell that to anyone. For what? Only I understand what I feel. Only I care about myself. Nothing makes any sense.


     27 years old. I missed my life. I missed all those good things which would happen to me. I missed him. He missed me. We missed us. No life. No passion. No happiness. NO ME.

I have to make other choices. I asked my mum what to do now. She said I can do whatever I want. What if I don’t know what I want mum? You need to think about it then, she said. So I’m thinking, all days.

And everything can be put into one sentence:

Das ist gelogen.

Meine Mutter.

I cannot love you because I cannot respect you.

     In one week I have aged a few years. I learnt new words:









And a few more, over a dozen. Thousands more. Again. Otherwise. Slowly. Lesson by lesson, painful. I’m looking for love, respect, sincerity, peace, I’m looking for myself. No. Not anymore. I found it. I had been set free. Opened my eyes. And I look. Like never before.


    He was something more to me, he saw in me things which no one before him noticed, even myself. He could make me smile by one gaze. After that, nothing. I’ve got nothing but…



                                                                 sleepless nights




                      harsh words

                                         thousands of harsh words



broken promises

The end. It cracked. There was no me. There was no us. There was no force. For everything. I shut my mouth and I’m quiet. Like never before.

And you will die alone because I will take what I want then walk away and owe you nothing. Thank you for the lesson stranger!

I don’t take care of myself. Someone has to take care of me.


     I head back home reluctantly after work because I know nobody’s waiting for me there. I will find a pile of unread books, empty bed and a sink full of unwashed dishes.

     I still feel young and reckless. Still make the same mistakes, like the same old songs and wear trainers with my dresses.

Let me keep quiet. My head is in the clouds all the time. And I knew I lose so easily everything that I was looking for a while. This time wasn’t different. I didn’t surprise myself. I have some moments of silence. I am somewhere else, I speak a foreign language, think in a foreign language and love in a foreign language. Sometimes I cry but only because it reminds me that my heart is broken.  Again. And I stop trusting people a little bit, for a moment.

     Today I’m glad that all the room taken by me in his life is that space where he saved my texts and emails. We didn’t swap our favourite books, experiences, secrets. He still doesn’t know who I am and what I’m doing here, I still don’t know what he’s dreaming about and what is his biggest tragedy. We live in a parallel space and time, two different cities, different environments. Different jokes seem funny for us, different films make us cry. Something else makes us laugh or awkward. I realized.


     I sleep in underwear, dancing naked in the kitchen in the mornings, eating chips for breakfast and singing loud ‘Boys don’t cry’ by The Cure. Sometimes I smell his skin and fabric softener on my pillow. It makes me dizzy for a minute but I’m forgetting quickly.

     I’m walking in Camden Town. I liked this city afresh. I learnt so much. My skin smells dust and coconut. I catch hot air into my lungs. Step slowly along the sidewalk. Smile to random people on the tube.  I feel alive.


Have you found someone who you can tell everything?

Because I haven’t.

Because I’m worthless

     Screaming inside my head. Every night. Screams that tear my tired chest. Inexplicable fear of dreams.

     When I was a little girl I was afraid of the universe, I was afraid of bad people. Adults tried to teach me how not to show that I am weak. Today I am still scared of the darkness. Still scared of bad people. I’m scared falling asleep when I can hear my fast beating heart. They didn’t teach me how to be strong at night, daytime only, when people look at me. That’s why I’ve never felt free. Well, maybe those few moments in someone’s arms. Anyone’s.


I always thought I’m not ambitious enough, that I can’t do anything properly, I’m not talented at all, that my life doesn’t mean anything. Why?

     Flashback. I play on the sidewalk near my house. I’m wearing a blue dress. I’m seven, have two blonde ponytails and a painful body full of bruises. All this pain tears me apart from the inside. It shouldn’t be like that. Today I spend time on my own. Drinking hot chocolate and reading book. That’s the usual. I’m not happy yet but I’m fighting for better life.

Here, in this country where I was born again.