R.M.

I think I've got a big ass crush on Roots Manuva. I like what he says, what he thinks, and the overall air he gives out, mysterious, but cool, crazy, but calm, spiritual, but open. I like men like him, deep, and who need someone to take care of them. 

''Audibly we oughta be
the tenement said : give the sword to thee
down crash and harassing the crew
simply done by the things we do
romance setting the trend, we study the zen
real, reveal, with wine we come again
ever more bouncy, no need to re announce me
dying and crying but they just can't denounce me''

last summer day

I'm a dreamy soul, with no middle to nothing, I'm either black or white, some days so good, some days horrible, some days I feel and see everything around me like it was crystal clear icy pictures, some days - it's all blurred out, and I'm under water, with my eyes seeing nothing, with all sounds and motions slowed down, all echos. I'm not a fool, but I pretend I'm one sometimes, cause that just makes things easier, no need explaining what's really going, right ? I'll be stupid, I'll pretend, I won't care, take me for a fool, flip me around, flick me like I'm a finished ciggy, I will be fine, you know, stupid smart girl, dreamy soul, broken so many times, but she has always gotten up and kept on moving, some days through water, some days slipping on ice, banging her head real hard, getting up again, no pain no gain, just keep on moving, keep on walking, keep on pretending, keep on living, dreamy soul. You're alone, but don't forget, we all are alone, so stand alone the best you can, dreamy soul. You think your life has sucked, cause everyone close to you has hurt you real hard, but that's okay, because you know things by now, you know so many things so early, and you know what's pain, so next time you will be prepared, actually, you always are prepared, dreamy soul stiff hands cold heart, that's how you go, that's how you live, that's how you survive.

Every time you've attached yourself to someone, you got messed up, walking out of a burning house, smelling like ash, all black, only eyes still shining through, grey eyes with so many stories and memories, like an old storage room, full of dust, secret corridors, sacred scars.

I should probably go to sleep. One of those nights, when I had to force myself to smile, ended up grinning in a silly, fake way, laughing at things that make me want to cry, laughing at life itself,  at how ironic it is. Who is a happy person? I don't know any, and I'm not one myself. I met a lady while waiting for a night bus, a homeless woman in a wheel chair. She kept on smiling, kept on talking to me about how we are all a big family living in one planet under one sun, how each one of us is endless, each one of us is an eternal being, and we all come from the same place, we all have a mission in this life, none of us is meaningless. She talked about happiness, and that each one of us can reach happiness when we complete our mission in this world. I watched her, while she was smiling, talking, believing, I was observing her energy, her strenght. My bus arrived and  I wished her a good night, having no idea where she was going to sleep or, if she had a place at all. She told me I looked like her daughter.

Each one of us is like a running river, our paths cross, then separate. We keep on moving.

Every road I take leads me nowhere. Every road I take is endless. I often wish I wasn't, but I still am.

k.

I've been thinking about my past relationships, how many of them I've had and how many of them went all wrong. Also I've realized how badly I've hurt some of my ex's. Quite a few of them, to the point where we'd never say hi if we bumped into each other, and if we said something, it sure wouldn't be something nice. Also I think I've figured out the main reason why things went that way. At least my main reason, from my point of view. I was mistaken by blaming it on my immaturity, lack of responsibility, wanting freedom and independence, lack of commitment... I feel now, that these things weren't the main reasons, even if they added up to the big picture.
I think nothing ever worked out because I wasn't living reality, imagining so many things, and involving a person who had fallen in love with me into my spider web of craziness and weirdest visions. I guess I never once loved a real person, I only loved my own created visions and versions of a real existing people. It's like trying to dream together with someone else, but that never worked. I wonder if I will ever manage to shake away this mist off my eyes and hit the reality, touch it and let it crystallize in my mind. I'm hiding from love, romance, or whatever you call it, cause all those things mean drifting even further away from reality.

midnight

I still can't get over talking about some things, and maybe I should. What happened to me will follow me all my life, especially if I never let it out, scream it out, or just tell someone about it in some way.

Tired of pretending

You know, I really really like you, and that's really silly. But I don't feel bad or embarrassed about it, because it all feels so natural and predetermined, that my feelings take over my rationality, my sense of reality. Now, I won't try to fight it cause it'll make it even worse. I won't try to deny these feelings I'm having. It's a fact that you're constantly in my thoughts, and you don't look so bad wondering around up there.

Bomb shell.

Some days I feel like I'm gonna go absolutely crazy if this world doesn't radically change anytime soon. It probably won't though, so I must change myself.

Too close.

Who am I?

What you decide to be is what you become. Well, not entirely. I still do think that there predetermined characteristics existing in each one of us.

Now, can you rip them out ? Can you get rid of them, replace them ? I don't think I could. Maybe I'm lacking will power and I'm weak.

One thing I'm sure about is that even if there are some negative things one cannot completely get rid of, with big effort one can still evolve and turn these flaws into something less evil, less dark, less extreme. Working on your own self pays off.

26

My hands can touch, and my heart can feel. If you came close enough and put your head on my chest, you would hear my heart beat. Maybe it would beat faster, if you were so close. But you see, I'm too shy to even dream about that. What if you say no? What if I get hurt? What if.

When impossible becomes possible, call me.

I'm talking to myself, only myself. I'm unaffected by my own words. They come and go, meanwhile I think to myself - who is this idiot talking? What is she trying to say? I'm learning to speak, just like a child, who's repeating the sounds surrounding him, just like a chick trying to flop it's fluffy wings. But I'm not succeeding. It's not working. These sounds coming out of me, these sounds aren't me. These sounds, these words aren't my real thoughts, merely copies of my thoughts. Copies of those copies. Not even that. It's the echo of what's really happening inside me, my head, my body, inside of who I really am. All that comes out, like an echo, is warped, reshaped by surroundings. It's like we're communicating through a broken phone, and you're receiving only half of what I've said. The visions in my head aren't connected to this world, I can't find a way to express what's inside me. I wish I had a projector in my forehead, so we could turn off the light and observe my dreams and fears and visions moving on the wall. Like a silent movie, that no one understands. I keep on trying to match my thoughts with my words, but they come out misshaped. I close my eyes. No point explaining. I shut myself. Off. I often think, what an unfair world it is that we live in. We are so limited, we are in chains. We're afraid of our own bodies, scared to get hurt, we're ashamed of our lust, we are put into these boxes, labelled, like - religion, society, norms, expectations, limits. Afraid to be individuals, exceptional, different. We are chopped up like fresh pieces of meat, and then displayed on the counter, we are used just when we are useful, other parts, that no one needs, are thrown away. They don't fit the standards, you see. No one wants those weird looking parts. They won't sell, you see. Fuck those parts. 

Well you know what, don't fucking buy me, feed me to the dogs.

Think Before You Ink

 I guess things you decide to ink on your body are things that you feel represent you and your philosophy at that certain point of life. Now I think, if I've done the mistake of making a tattoo at the age of 15, it would probably be saying ''fuck you all in the ass'' or something similar. People change. Think about it before getting a tattoo. Also, check the spelling.

26

I can do what I want 

I'm in complete control

That's what I tell myself

I've got a mind of my own

I'll be alright alone

Don't need anybody else

I gave myself a good talking to

No more being a fool for you

Now that I see you

And all I remember

Is how you make me want to surrender

damn your eyes

For taking my breath away

For making me wanna say 

Damn your eyes

For getting my hopes up high

For making me fall in love again

Damn your eyes

I get stuck into music clouds for hours..for days, months sometimes. I get stuck in music and nothing else is there for a while. Floating in sounds and noises, my head is a stereo, my heart is a drum

24

Everything comes in black and white, good and bad. Everything comes with two sides to it, like those yin and yang signs, a two piece puzzle, that you cannot separate. It's like as if you really wanted you could dig out some gold in a shit hole. If you were searching long enough. Also, you could find a golden egg full of shit. You know like, it can never be just shit or just gold. Like pure. There's no pure evil, or pure goodness. Nope.

Today I saw an old lady in a shopping mall, talking to herself, about how expensive the bread is. While listening to her endless monologue, I grinned at her, at this world, and I felt like crying. Sometimes, sad things are beautiful, distilled, real. These kind of pure, sharp images, full of sadness, loneliness, past..they fill you up with life, not ugly, not beautiful, just real life. It hits you like a sudden sharp noise in a room full of silence. Something different.

23

I wanna leave, wanna leave my body, my head, wanna leave it in pieces, little by little, I wanna forget and at the end disappear all empty, pieces of me everywhere I've been. Things I've painted, I've said, I've screamed, written out, whispered, touched, wanted and wished for. Never gotten. Left behind, misremembered. Wanna give all of me, all I've got to everyone, and I don't even care who, or why. Just take it, take as it is and try to understand it, cause I can't. I don't want to keep it to myself no more. I don't need it. For me it's useless.