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I’ve met someone who I’m thinking of every night.

Twenty-eight heartbeats for advantage. Laughing till early morning, unfinished big (and little) talks, unspeakable words, dozen of dreams.

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My heart is tired, I defend myself. Still have enough power for that fight. Independence. I do whatever I want to do, disappear when I need it but I’m thinking. Thinking intense. When is it over?

And you know what? I do not like low air humidity and cold feet. I’m catching the sun rays and putting them into my pocket, hiding for later. And in the evenings… In the evenings, on my way home from the corner shop I stop, with juice in my right hand and milk in my left one while I’m staring into the stars. Is something wrong with me?

So be careful to not meet me on your way, because I have no place to stay and I will go with you. I will ask if you want to, of course. Do you?

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.

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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.

Dream!

     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.

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     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.

PS.

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.

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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.

One Thing.

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

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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.

Safe.

SAFE.

And small.