Maybe we all should be robots with plastic parts in our brains.
You wake up one day and you realize that you slept in again. You open your eyes for a minute only to shut them again, while you step onto the spinning wheel.
You wake up one day and you realize that it’s to late to change anything. It’s too late to unknown things that you’ve already discovered, and you want them to become mystery again.
All the lies that you were told about life, they spread inside you like tentacles, ready to grasp. Everyone tells you that life becomes more with time, but you actually learn that everything becomes less.
If you thought that being an adult would make you free, you were wrong. Because you were told what to become, the decision didn’t belong to you. And the person who tells you to keep your eyes shut when you wake up is actually not you.
You can do whatever you want, but the only thing that stops you is the thing that you cannot do. Which is getting up in the morning with your eyes open.
Maybe I’m the one who’s not normal
wrapped in delusions
speaking the language of nightmares.
Maybe we shouldn’t talk
just blankly stare at each other.
Maybe I’m the one who’s fake
pretending to enjoy your company
Maybe we shouldn’t smile
symbols with our thumbs.
Maybe I’m the one who’s cold
looking you in the eye.
Maybe we shouldn’t hug
marks on our skin.
‘I don’t like people’ I told you once. But I lied. I lied to you. And I lied to myself.
Being on my own. That’s what I like best. I know you don’t understand it. I don’t expect you to. But I’m not going to explain it to you. I’m sorry.
But being on my own surrounded by people is a completely different thing. I walk the glass hallway everyday. It’s made me deaf and blind. It’s made me invisible. Yes, I know it’s partly my fault.
Sitting on the pavements, they are somewhere. Who are they if not humans? Just a smile and a few words. Is that too much to ask?
You told me that I’m part of the team now. But I don’t feel like part of anything. Just a crack on the wall. Everyone knows it’s there, but everyone ignores it.
I sometimes imagine talking to you. Not about obviousness. About things you probably wouldn’t want to talk about. That’s why this dream can never be fulfilled. And that is what makes me sad.
Sitting in the corner of the room, I can only spin the wheel of fortune. Shall I come out to smell the sweet scent of rosehips. Shall I stay hidden in the endless corridors of my fears.
Always drifting and talking to the figments of my imagination.
Everyone knows the Cinderella movie, right? The story about a girl who was treated unfairly by people she believed had power over her. Wiping furniture, scrubbing floors and cooking meals. That was her destiny that she couldn’t do much about at that time.
Do you think she liked it? I guess, we’ll never know. Maybe she didn’t like it. Maybe she just wanted to run away. Maybe she missed her father. Maybe she wanted not to be. Maybe she felt lonely. Or maybe she was just grateful for everything she had. I guess, we’ll never know.
She was rescued eventually, though. The prince on the white horse appeared magically and salvaged her from the miserable life. He was charming, handsome and so nice to her. He gave her all his attention. He smiled to her like she was the only woman he ever loved. He put her in the centre of his world. Flattering, isn’t it?
She was led on the wings of love. Her life finally changed for better. She was living in a dream, so wonderful, she couldn’t have even imagined.
So, this is it. She moves into the castle and can expect all the beautiful things happen in her life. This is the beginning of her new life. At least, that’s what Disney makes us to believe in, right?
I want to believe that they lived happily ever after. I really do. But life shows differently. Everything ends when the story ends. The castle is cold, it blinds the girl and devours her heart. It’s like a cage where she can only look out the window and watch life happening without her. The prince turns into a heartless stone sucking in every trace of joy from her body. Watching shallow, boring reflection in the mirror every day, the only thing she can have is a lie. Fake smiles, fake conversations, fake love. Is that what she really wanted?
Be careful what you ask for.
Be careful what you wish for.
A pile of dust.
In case you were wondering.
You see… I can’t remember you very well. I can’t remember what it’s like to be around you. But I’m sure it must feel great. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have dreamt of it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have longed for it. I still believe that you’re the answer. The only answer for all my questions.
When I was younger I thought you were the only thing I lacked. I missed you every day, even though I didn’t know you very well. At all. Actually, I didn’t know you at all. Just a face carved in my memory, just a few smiles, just a few jokes. The pictures that my mother drew on a mouldy wallpaper were too blurry. They were a lie. I’d been always lied to.
While I was growing older, I learnt how to live without you. I learnt how to take care of myself. I became strong and independent. The hole was still in me, though. Raw. A piece of my body deprived of skin that hurts every time I touch it. The hole that cannot be hidden and, at the same time, cannot be exposed. The hole that was given to me by the ones who should love me the most.
My heart longs and cries for something I cannot remember. The taste of the sweet syrup in the morning. The breeze in the sea of laughters. The warmth in the kingdom of dreams. The sense of safety.
Instead, I’ve been walking on pebbles. Knowing they’re slippy and dangerous, I take every step very carefully, very slowly, counting every drop of water that slips through my fingers.
I don’t know how long I have been like this for. I don’t know how long I’m going to stay like this for. Lingering.
I’m standing here, on the firm ground
reaching out so high
I’ve been dreaming of flying
to the skies
where I can see my thoughts
where I can unite with myself.
Yet, I’m standing here
chained like a horse
running round and round
with my neat shoes on
I step into puddles
wanting them to be mirrors.
Where do I go
with my broken armor
still longing for something
that has never been here.
born in rain
streaming down my face
drawn in a fantasy
creating unreal realms
revealed in sadness
blackening the skies
i cannot hold a single sphere
dig a hole in the ground
to pour my soul in
Born in rain
I can only become water again.
It’s getting cold. You wake up in the morning and get out of the bed with your cold feet you head to the window. You touch the cold glass trying to touch the sun, rising in the distance. Cold.
The weather has nothing to do with the cold that I carry in myself, though. It’s always been here. Never goes away. Never disappears. Like crystals of ice covering my skin. Why am I so cold?
You just need a little bit of fire, my dear, you would think. But I walked through the fire many times and never felt a stroke of warmth. My body’s weak. Starving. Barely breathing. Vanishing.
I need a hug. Where are you? Asking the only person who could hug me. You know no one else can do it. Do not touch me. Do not come any closer. How sad is that? Always in the arms of strangers.
What did you do to me? Never needed this. Touching, hugging, talking. Always fine on my own. What did you do to me? I picked the fruit from the tree, deep red, and I ate it forgetting how bitter it had been.
Maybe the Mother was right.
Maybe I shouldn’t be on my own, after all.
Pretty little girl talking to you
so innocent, so cheerful
dressed in frills and smiles
her blushed cheeks, her red lips
What makes her real
when you touch her hand
she shyly looks in your eyes
the look of an angel.
The things you see
they’re not always real
Not speaking, listening
but you can’t really hear the thoughts.
Sit straight, don’t breathe
dress in white, always smile
Walk like a lady
do your nails, do your hair.
That’s all you see
that’s all you want to know
You never wonder
about the story hidden behind
You can’t really see
how dark her soul is
Marks under her skin
carved by the rules.
Just leave your hair down
let the wind to play with it
Run barefoot between trees
let your skin to be scratched
Jump into the river
let it steal your heart
Sleep under the stars
let them steal your dreams.
I make a move
because I know you’re watching
say things you want to hear
but I don’t mean them
I cover my head to hide
but in fact I want to be noticed
ignore you every day
just to draw your attention.
That’s what you want to believe in.
That’s your only explanation.
All the things that were supposed to
make me authentic, made me fake.
Do you know that feeling when someone from your surroundings suddenly decides to leave? One of your colleagues, your friend, a member of your family.
Then everyone gathers for a leaving party in a garden or pub. There is music on, people are chatting, drinks on the table. Familiar scents hit you and you just want to have a good time in a good company, not thinking about tomorrow. Because tomorrow will arise in different places for both of you.
Everything what’s good must end eventually, apparently, suddenly. And you’re left only with what’s uncomfortable and bitter. Left with responsibilities.
That party ends tonight and everyone has to say ‘goodbye’, so you also say ‘goodbye, I’ll miss you’ and you really mean it because you feel like you liked that person. At that time…
Are you really going to miss them?
You wake up the next day, drink coffee and go to work. You have your own life to live. Do you give a second thought to them, since they far away and you’re probably not going to meet again? Where is he? What is she doing when she’s not here?
The truth is, I rarely miss people, even though I say it out loud, even though I feel like I could. When you speak and speak. When there’s no end. When you ask and ask, but you don’t want to know about things that no one wants to know about. When you’re not someone special to me, I will not, actually, miss you. I don’t miss you.