Настроение сейчас - xrenoova

vseem privetik..esi kone4no we eto kto nit 4itaet...:)
ja nenaju wo mnu delat..ja uwe nastolko zaputalas v sebe..i ne viwu smisla ni v 4em..wivu toka radi kaakih to opredelennih ljudei...wo bi s nimi obwatsja...no ja opjat na4inaju osoznavat wo ja na4inaju ottodaljatsja ot vseh...dawe esi mnu ne xo4etsja..ja na4inaju uxodit kaak govarica v sebja..na4inaju bit 4awe naedene ssoboi..ja toka okolo goda uwla ot etogo vide depressa...no poxodu opjat vse zanova na4inaeca...ja stala namnogo 4awe bit naedene ssoboi so svoimi misljami...wo mnu v golovu toka ne prixodit..vi bi nali..kogda menja postojanno sprawivajut wo slu4ilos kada vse normalno...ja na4inaju besitsja..
ja snova priexala domoi..i bolwe ne xo4u sjuda priezwat..no mne prixodica ja delaju eto isklju4itelno izza materi..no mne kawetsja ne budu etogo delat...
kada ja sjuda priezwaju to ja stanovljus sooovsem drugim 4elovekom..ja sama ne ponimaju wo so mnoi proishodit..ja stonovljus kakoi to o4 o4 zloi i menja prosto razdrawaet kawdoe deistvie...ja na4inaju ogrizaca s materju..ne govarja o svoem dolbonoi baate..ja nexo4u pri4init nikomu boli..no taaak polu4aeca..
voot tak voot...v kratce...mne o4 slowno vse viderwat...na mnu vse povislo kaak na vewolku...ot takoe u mnu sravnenie s soboi..u menja 4stie golovnie boli..oni po4emu to stali vse bolnee i bolnee..tabletki ja uwe wrat ne xo4u..
ja rasstaalas so svoim parnem...i mne eweee ot etogo xuwe...aaaa...kaak we ja vse nenaviwu..

Настроение сейчас - Self-Ironically: Sure Nobody Misses Me

   I refuse to start speculating on how it is you hand in hand with discontent that ignite fervent self-expressing and desperate activity in human beings, as seeking out universal truths is as unlike myself as operating bound by realism. What I do intend to do is spilling small quantity of you unto long-neglected pages and watching it being absorbed in order to establish your estimated depth.
   It would have been so much easier and  more reassuring if I could rely on someone else's ways mirroring mine so that to soothe myself with faith in the periodical law of... states of relationship. But...  unfortunately for myself, I guess, I'm too self-centred to grasp others personality which leaves me in constant wondering, though generally unharmful in fact and in prospect. And now this... this uncertainty, that preamble... they leave me restless like a spectre bound to neither suitable options with as much to do as exposing you, Misery, to the open, knowing that hardly any eyes would care to bare these letters, glad for my little drama to pass unnoticed, and yet dreading both.
   Oh my dear sweet inspiring Misery, skipped heartbeats, sleepless hours, resurrected Dreaming, feel of flow of life itself I owe to you, I do, but... hell it hurts! Will I never be given Blood Red roses again, a passion, an emotion in all its diversity? Will I leave my exeptional cove to mingle with the vast sea of others, unforgivable, insignificant, dull and not stirring any interest?Will I have to settle for calm chill of Snow White blossoms, a sensual indifference, pure reason and respect in better case?  More important, will HE settle for that? What is He planning to do or what is He executing His will already? Has He armoured himself with my unconcious advice and started what is to be a painless severance? Why, damn, why? What have I done wrong?Am I to blame at all? If not, then egocentrical perception (the best developed one of mine) is not to solve any of this and I'm only to wait and smat scrapes of space with inarticulate questioning.  Who am I kidding now,  I manage to bore even myself...
   Well, I reckon that's a cheery enough thought to end with.
   Sleep tight, Meself. Damn you, Misery, and Bless you.
   Sincerely yours,
   K.

 
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