I wrote a book..Actually I ripped it page by page out of myself.


with mediocre love comes great responsibility

Relationships from the type ‘whatever comes along, I might as well keep it as a back-up plan’ don’t just leave a bitter aftertaste in your soul, but are also harder to maintain and require more efforts, time and energy, regardless of what you may fool yourself. Talk about constructiveness! You wish I weren’t right and so do I, but truth be told there’s nothing harder for a man to do than convince a woman she’s needed, desired and longed for enough to stay – even if it’s just long enough for him to stick his dick in her. And women..women find it extremely tedious to consistently fool someone how attractive, strong, together, over-the-top in bed and overall awesome he is.

It all happened, actually it all happens when they thought they wanted same/similar things – a sheltered stop to hide from life’s disappointments and bruises and [possibly] someone to put together what was left of their formal selves. A woman, true to her girly nature, naively assumes this deal is the beginning of her happily-ever-after. And men..men are far more practical – even if being of discriminating taste – after all, even the noblest of gentlemen eventually get tired of dining on 100$ steaks and crave a 3$ hot dog (as one guy eloquently explained to me once). Well put, isn’t it? A cruel mockumentary spin of the ever so effective ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ get-out-of-a-relationship card, which every men inevitably plays in his life. All you’re left with afterwards is the beneficial position of a trapped animal, generously bestowed the comfort of the grin-and-bear-it routine. Lovely.

With the deeply twisted and proficient ability of self-irony, cultivated through years of disillusions, only a woman is capable of sustaining this type of existence. I find it amusing you can intentionally lead someone on, believing your ‘temporarily’ is their ‘forever’, your ‘back-up plan’ is their ‘exclusively’, and your ‘hear me lie’ is their invitation to the most secluded parts of their soul. I know, I know – it’s not his fault he’s hurt me, after all I am the one who invited him in. To each his own, right?
After sufficient time goes by you come to terms with the extent of your naivety and pure foolishness, long after the anger, depression, bargaining and acceptance have kicked in; you are finally able to distance yourself to see he was right to do so. Who gambles everything on a single hand? Even if you’re holding a promising set of cards never underestimate the experience of the player you’re up against, because experience beats luck any time. And love is a straight game of poker – for someone to win, the other one has to lose. Mad it was yourself? Angry you were played? What was he supposed to do – talk you through the game, revealing all his tricks? It doesn’t work that way..

Then you’re told not to overreact, calm down, and ‘leave the situation as it is’.

And women are exceptionally good at leaving something as it is..It’s their queue to let go..of situations and the men who caused them.

just a cliché

Just like a large piece of wool between the paws of a playfully vicious cat. Its sharp claws scratch and pull on the loose threads, unweaving the ball. The cat purrs and pulls harder as the yarn ruffles and tears; it purrs stronger, enjoying the power of its sharp claws. The yarn is still fairly intact, aware its purpose is to [solely] amuse and entertain the cat. This cute, cruel, exquisite, intelligent creature that can end the pain in any given moment, but chooses not to.. There is no need to stop – there’s plenty of yarn even after it’s been torn. The cat loves its ball of yarn. And the yarn loves its cat. The cat purrs. The yarn continues to ruffle.

flowers of life

I decided to try out for myself the infamous plant experiment, which proves that they’re able to understand and sense everything just like any other living creature on the planet.
So I started cultivating two plants.I watered and fertilized them equally.
The first one I kept telling how unbelievably beautiful she was and how happy and lucky I was to have her in my life.
The second one I criticized and insulted on a daily basis; I told her she was a dirty skank and how disgusted I was by her. Sometimes I ignored her for days and other times I spat on her leaves.
Two months into the experiment the first plant called me an inconsiderate jerk, douchebag and a fucking asshole; she blossomed out into breath-taking beauty and announced she was leaving – probably to find someone who would take better care of her than I did.
The second plant doesn’t blossom and is [at best] average-looking, but she keeps bringing me breakfast in bed; she massages my feet; cooks and cleans around the house and claims she will stay with me till the end of time.

long after post coitum

Unspoken words, unable to find a path to the other person, have no choice but to become writings or perish, turning into sadness. Then people silently sit next to each other, not knowing what to do with themselves. It’s a sad story.
People rarely make that final step from falling in love to actually loving someone – they just assume it’s the same. Nothing is further from the truth. We reach out to another human being for many reasons, but the basis every time is pure selfishness – out of fear or desperation; in hope of comfort and companionship; in need of satisfying basic biological instincts (excuse my french). More often than never the other person is just means to an end, although we like to fool ourselves ‘we were meant to be’. Even the most superficial and dull relationships seem like a good investment in the beginning and there’s a very simple explanation for this – people live based on comparisons and contrasts. Nothing stands and/or has any value for itself. And any relationship – even a deeply dysfunctional power struggle with questionable outcome(s) is preferable to the howling loneliness of nights of mindless browsing in search of [any] warmth. That is, until it becomes perfectly clear that even the biggest loser has discriminating taste and can only put up with a relationship born out of desperation to a certain point, after which he starts craving other things. Things such as friendship, understanding, [real] tenderness, perhaps even love (if he still aims that high). Funny enough every single person on the planet is sure they deserve it..they’re entitled to it. I’m not so convinced..
Not knowing what to do with the person we’re with, we just sit there, filling the silence with dreams about we’ll do in the future, but end up just doing each other (pun intended). Sadly, contrary to popular opinion sex only consists in the filling of physical cavities and emptying of emotional ones.. in a way it leaves you emptier than you were before. It’s weird how with the wrong person the emptiness is utterly devastating and with the right one the same emptiness holds nothing but shared solitude and peaceful comfort. People often mistake getting off and feeling relieved with the latter. It’s a big mistake, though easily spotted when it becomes clear that if you’re not having sex, you’re just making small talk till you’re ready for round two.
Somewhere after the first gaze and before the conscious decision to get  involved with that person, we decided to overlook (note the word!) all the differences and focus solely on the similarities..that’s what doomed ‘us’. We fall in love with what we [think] we know and understand, but we love because of the differences, which we stay around to discover, to embrace and to come to appreciate and be moved by. Otherwise we continue sitting – in front of the TV, in economy class seats on the way to the annual vacation and in the end – on each others’ throat and soul. It’s long since we’ve fallen out of love as all initial needs and wants have been satisfied and we never quite made that transition into actually starting to love and know one another.

emotional downSHIFTthing

It’s funny how little we know about ourselves and how much time needs to pass until we start to understand what motivates us. I used to think I was a realist, but with great delay I realized I’m nothing but a common dreamer. Too little too late though…
And I am scared to death. And it’s far too quiet around me, even for a person in love with silence. This time it’s quiet inside of me and that’s never a good sign. The men in my life rarely call when everything’s alright – that explains my previous love of quarrels. They always call when I’m not online long after midnight; when I’ve said ‘goodbye’ or when they sense that someone else has fallen in love with me. A man always knows when someone else loves his girl. It’s too bad they never know when their girl has grown tired of being ‘theirs’ in their own way (of being who she’s expected to be and not loved for who she is).
I’m always sad to part with the image of myself in his eyes for I’ve grown fond of this role as it’s been the only one I know for quite a while now..I don’t know anything else. I will have to learn to be a person from scratch..yet again. Then I remember a guy who drove as I switched between stations, briefly taking his eyes off the road to catch a glimpse of my dishevelled hair and wandering smile. We were looking at each other and nobody said a thing. That silence was filled with promises and life. But that was a long time ago when I was different and he knew how to be with someone rather than make someone fit being with him.
We always know how to waste away the things we want the most. And time passes. It doesn’t heal, but it brings tormented peace and suffered solitude. You forget what drove you apart and start remembering what made you fall in love. The weird thing came when the more I forgot the hurt, the disillusions, the disappointment and the reasons behind all of it, the less and less I loved him. No one could convince me otherwise. Because the day you’re able to forgive everything, your heart will be reborn liberated and emptied.
I light up a cigarette – it has never failed to give me that sense of wholeness, which no man ever could (but all of them promised). I like the way the smoke penetrates and fills my lungs just as I wish the longing for me would penetrate and fill his being. As the desire for him filled mine.
Do you feel scared? Do you need something more?

A girl is always unusually quiet when she’s parting with someone in her soul…

love laundry

People don’t die from love, but love dies at the hands of people.  And when you’ve been loved multiple times, but haven’t returned the feeling, eventually you’ll fall in love with someone with the passion and intensity of all those times,…but he won’t even love you 1/hundredth back. He’ll rape your heart and you’ll love him [even] more for it. The problem is that love, as cruel and twisted as it may be, rarely follows the laws of common sense – you just have to let it be, outlive it and outgrow it. Once you reach a point where you no longer wish to be happy, but simply save yourself (or what’s left of you), you can consider yourself lucky – you’re free. The issue with freedom, however, is that when you’ve lived without it for a long time you don’t know what to do with it once you obtain it. Or maybe that’s the drama with everything in life – we never get it when we need it. Afterwards it’s just useless..
If somewhere along the way you’ve suffered pain, it becomes part of you till the end. It’s just like that feeling you can’t quite chase away when the silence of the night is only broken by the even breathing of the body next to you; that same feeling when you have every right to be happy and content, but instead you’re lost in doubt and ache. It’s no use explaining, no one will understand anyway – people hate things they don’t understand and they transfer the hatred onto the person that’s brought uncertainty into their lives. We all need antagonists. 
Then you remember how:
you thought the world was full of possibilities and life was ahead of you;
you believed ‘staying true to yourself’ meant something;
you thought your conviction and perseverance will suffice;
you failed to notice you’re only human like everyone else. And you carry pain. Lots of it.
No none wants your truths. No one is interested in them. Just as you are blind to the truths of others. You may think you’re the King of the Mountain, but you’re just a fool on a hill. It takes so long to figure that out though. And it’s always after you’ve grown old. Unless you were born old as it happens with some of us. Sad childhood followed by sad adolescence,followed by sad adulthood, followed by sad old age, filled with sad memories. All because no one teaches us how to be lonely from the beginning. If only our parents sent us to bed, school, dinner and breakfast alone.. rather than do what every loving parent would – teach us how to be cared for, loved, nurtured only to render us completely incapable to handle solitude. And it comes about later on to never truly leave..and it’s not just a hundred years; it’s much longer…
Love creates dependency. Every emotionally normal human being feels its absence painfully once they’ve got used to it and it goes away. And love always goes away. Since it’s unnatural to fall in love twice with the same person [I don’t care what those washed-down romantic flicks are trying to convince you], you start looking for someone else to recreate the feeling with. It’s only logical and fair. Ironically, that’s exactly what drives people away.
The sad part is that at some point you’ll realise your life is full of prints by people long gone, never to return. But you’ll meticulously continue doing all those little things you picked up when you were still together… Why do they come natural to you now, you wonder? Because it doesn’t matter any more..