Zmęczenie

Surabaya zamyka mnie w sobie. Absurdalnie w stosunku do sytuacji i swoich potrzeb przestaję odczuwać potrzebę zmiany. Również też gdy piszę te słowa szaleję w środku klatki zbudowanej z niematerialnych granic tego miejsca. Tej nudy i nieszczerych uśmiechów, braku celu i obcych wartości. Ambiwalencja została wyryta na istocie Surabayi przez minione pokolenia i wydaje mi się, że nic już nie jest w stanie tego zmienić. Na pewno nie ja.
Krążymy w kółko obijając się o siebie. My i manifestacje naszych pragnień. O ileż prościej byłoby gdybyśmy byli jednym i tym samym? O ileż łatwiej byłoby, gdybyśmy nie musieli każdego ranka zakładać masek i udawać, że pod nimi nie kryje się głód ulotnych emocji. No, tak. Wszystko pięknie, ale i Ty i ja dobrze wiemy, że nie da się rzeźbić w powietrzu.

The day three of my very own inception. Time with the music, personal fears and nasi goreng.

 Hear the thunder binding air

Ground in tremble feathers' grave

Molten wings of wax and pride

Childish dream of man.

Please forgive me I reached for skies

All I wanted was to see

Whether it was you who bring

The light that warms this frozen stone

The moss that whispers its hollow tale

Hear the sirens chanting home

Finding joy in coming storm

Voice of void calls through the wind

Twisted nether swallows in

Please forgive me I drank from seas

All I wanted was to see

Whether it was you who hide

Solitude within the bluest depths

Your smile in one of empty shells

From different sides

Yesterday night I spoke to my sister, complaining about my recent emotional condition, whinning how much I would like find some who would understand me completely. Then my lovely sister told me something that obviously pushed the right butting in my head. "Simon, I would like you to find some, whom you would understand completely instead" - she said. I started to process all my past relationships and friendships and believe me, oblivion of my own discovery scared me to the very soul. Anyway, I had to write something that would serve both as the appology and the confession.
For my sister, for people who happened to became victims of my self-centred living and myself.

There is a line painted in shame and lust,

It runs down through the forrest echos and sight,

Faces of those who passed but still in presence,

Faces of those whom I loved untill turning the book's pages

I'm tasting my empire made of bone and dust,

It's a bitter taste of freedom with the sweeter smell of brass.

Thought you might consider myself as a king,

I'm just a deceiver, who's putting souls on string,

Collecting soundless pieces of shattered hearts in stain,

Torturing the spirits, whom I dug up just to play.

I'm sitting in the forrest, shadows move around,

There is new deceiver coming – he will put me down.

He will fool me a like puppet driven by third hand.

Notice that I'm altered by the end of play.

I'm king no longer, I'm just face on tree,

Lurker among the lurkers, a shade with human needs.

Irrelevant character of disappointment

Hi there, I'm Simon and this is going to be the very first post on my new way of expression, which happened to be the blogging.
Normally I would write a poem or a short story, but this time I feel extremaly lonely, so I'll just let you to taste my mood. Just don't lick it too harsh and don't dance on my bleeding face, please.
Normally I would say my life knows ordinary ups and downs, but Glen's Hansard's voice yawning from my speakers convinces me to believe I'm stuck between the trash. I can't move, so I'm screaming but no one seems to notice or care. I'm just an observer watching people live. Every single emotion tastes like it was used by someone just five minutes before it was delivered to me. Am I here truly? I can't stop thinking about what would happen if I stopped breathing suddenly? Would I miss the love, the friendship, the compassion and all the other feelings in their abstract condition? Would I miss anything? I hope so, because I have spent my entire life trying to experience a real passion of unknown kind. I'm imagining myself as a shadow without formed shape but filled with desire to be seen. I'm moving behind pillars of the theater, where predictable play is being played. And bad actors get all the roses..

OK, that was an introduction to my current state of mind. Oblivion of our very own selves is fucking painful, but you know this already, right?
Today I took my friends to celebrate St. Patrick's Day in a pub. I had this serious crash on one girl's brain. She was... exceptional. And I introduced my friend to her. You know the rest of the story. Guess who was left as the broken hearted sucker hoover fixer guy?
With all my trust issues and puzzled mind processing I don't care about random people who happen to cross my  patch, nor do I care about their feelings toward my person. However I really cared about this single extraordinary girl.
Have you ever grabbed a pillow and screamed out your lungs? That's what I'm doing inside my skull right now. There's no pillow, but sound of synapses breaking apart and only Marcel Proust who's trying to prove  that my suffering can bring the experience of equal value to unfulfilled love. And I really want to believe him, because it's the only thing I can do at the moment. Heart like tempest is beyond my control. Mind can reason but cannot win, so the balance of reality and its facts stay intact. The only thing that shifts is the phantom taking down the shatters of my self-confidence. But, well, this is the natural consequence of trying and failing, isn't it?
I'm not mad, but disappointed that time of trial passed and I have to move on. I do not regret any single moment nor feeling - they will be mine eternally (I hope!). I do not feel betrayed by anyone - I also let my desires to rule over my actions. Like I said, it's all about the loss of a chance to grasp on an abstract idea. I'm not alone and I doubt I will ever be. I'm not unhapppy, people won't let me. I'm a just a curious man who's asking himself how would the brights and shades of forever-lost alternative looked like if things went differently.

I think I fell in love with her. I'm also little bit drunk right now.

Good night