22 Diaries. Story eleven

How did I find myself there? Why?

That’s the questions I keep asking myself.

At first I thought it was a great place to grow and learn new things. It wasn’t.

Then I thought it was about you, because I’ve never experienced a connection like this before. But you turned out to be a liar.

Then why?

I believe that things happen for a reason, hence the questions I keep asking myself over and over again. Why?

This story was supposed to be addressed to you, but I don’t feel like I can trust you anymore. So, there it is as follows:

I know I’ve been here before, in this place. All the people and all the events. I’ve met them, I’ve seen them. The feeling is so strong that I almost cannot deny that this is the right thing, no matter how wrong it may seem.

You once told me that everything is written in the stars, that She plays every part in our lives, that everything gets Her way. I remember that it came with such a relieve, because it meant that we don’t have to worry about anything…

Perhaps, the thing I thought I was wasn’t true. Perhaps, I believed in the image of me that people created. Hearing everyday how good and unique I was, I believed I was good and unique. Perhaps, what I am is the thing I am right now. Nothing more.

All the things I learnt were just useless things easy to learn. Life itself wasn’t written in the book, though. That’s why I didn’t know how to learn it. That’s why I don’t know how to live a life that doesn’t go beyond the cover of the book. The real life.

And this is what makes a lot of sense.

22 Diaries. Story ten

Once I said to someone that I felt drained, out of energy, mentally tired. They asked: ‘Why won’t you do something for yourself?’

I assume he wanted to suggest I buy something to myself or travel somewhere or go out for a dinner. The thing is, I do a lot for myself. I buy myself flowers, I take baths with bubbles, I eat chocolate, I travel a lot and I buy pretty things.

As a half orphan I feel the sense of abandonment under my skin. I learnt that you can never rely on other people. It doesn’t matter what they say and how many promises they make. They can never love you as much as you can love yourself. So, yeah, believe me I know how to take care of myself. Physically… at least.

I do not believe that material possessions can heal your crying soul. Wonder why I’m so tired? Because I was dismissed. Because my skills apparently meant nothing. Because I wasn’t good enough. That is what pains me more. You do not have to love me, but you have to need me as a professional. Without it I feel useless.

The forgotten dreams lie heavily on me, crashing my inner self of belonging, where towers collapse releasing demons, which chase me every day.

And this is where it begins…