ｘｘｘ
nope, the statement where i was saying
that i can not cut is a deepest ever lie..
i am cutting people off everyday. easily.
without feeling anything as if i never did.
i am cutting off the ones which i found funny,
nice, lovely - i shut off the memories at once.
i forget names in one moment. dont recollect.
that man taught me brilliantly how to be not attached.
why the hell of all the people i can not cut off this one?
there was not person in my life, whom i feel more needed.
(okay, i am sound in a dramatic way now. that is not it)
whom i feel needed to recall and call back, let us say.
i got the reason, it is quite simple. i can not neglect it
because it got deeper into myself than i can reach by hand.
it slided over. it became a part of me.
cutting it i am cutting my own flesh.(
seems.
any possible ways of separation? hm.
no. i have to learn how to live with that.
all that you did once stays within you.
and because i find it strange, i try to divide.
we are both of the same kind that is why.
probably, i should learn how to accept that.
the fact, that. only for one moment i cared.
about the one, whom i should not have cared until the end of times.
...
probably it is Remarque and his solitude, greater that you can obtain.
i am reflecting it into myself now and it makes every sorrow brighter.
flashing. but i love Remarque. he is as beautiful as my breath stops.
...
why do i not (excessively) like to have girls in my friends.
because it is ending always in ridiculous something like --
Belle, i need your help. i am stupid like tree pregnant!
maybe it is possible for me to get married in the first place?!
at a conversations like this i want to make a cruel something.
honestly. why in the first place people go to me with such ones?
people should learn how to deal with their fuck ups themselves.
i do think so. or probably they think i am so much experienced.
well, i am genious enough to be not. our gods like me enough too.okay, moving to the next round.
@темы:
emerald shadows,
violet illusions,
dreams, we're dreaming,
our morbidly pleasant place