About a man

Old, gray man, about five feet tall walking through my neighborhood. It's been four years now. Why does he constantly seeks for my look? Hello? 

You would say he's maybe lonely, sad, small in his own world. But no. He has such blue deep eyes, kind of scary filled with anger, misery. The funniest thing  is that he knows my grandpa. I think they've been working together. I just turn my look left, right up, or down pretending that I didn't saw him. I know it's awkward, but I can't help myself letting him to look at me. There's something Nazi in him.  I don' t like the way he's talking with his grandson, I don' t like his wife ,who is everything but woman, I don't like his son' s wife, who's maybe the loudest mother in our neighborhood. I saw him this morning again. He was crossing the street. Fortunately, I was driving in a cab (this couldn't stop me staring at him once again through the window), but when the cab was approaching to him, I lower my head down. 

Just in case.

When sorrows come, they come not single spies. But in battalions.

It is cool. It was warm, though. For couple of days. I was cool. Now, I'm warm. I don't have reason neither an explanation for it. It's just the Scandinavian coolness and breeze warmed me up. It warmed up my feelings again. Yesterday, while I was walking through the Kronborg castle, I saw the famous quote in one one the museum shops: ' To be or not to be.' I stood there for a while wondering and thinking about the sentence that made such an impact on a whole literature world. Then I tried to applied it to my current state of being. What if I'm to be and someone else not.  Am I by myself in my own state of being? Or its just a fiction? That is the question. 

I couldn't find the answer. I didn't want to. I like my own state of being, I thought. It keeps me warm. I flew like a bird which spent some time captured in a cage. I had an excuse. It made me feel free now.

What if they catch me again? Am I gonna find my way back?

What if...?

Repentance. That's all I can feel now. What stopped me? What I was thinking? Did forces of Universe stopped me of becoming  an object of compassion? 

I act like a Parisian instead- I didn't let you outsmart me. I felt regret deep beneath after that.

He asked me when the playground was built. I answered listless. Then, he asked for my address number. I was happy he remembered just a part of it, but then I start remembering of all time he'd dial that address. He knew it back then. Why did he erased it from his memory? It's just a stupid address. You will not make your RAM memory full. 

I didn't want him to call cab. I stopped him going for a little bit-I had to bought bread. I got a slightly touch across my shoulders in turn. In fact, I wanted something more. Something real, something touchable - warm. I got imitation of an intimate hug and a Good night  instead.

A little too early

I'm having  nightmares last couple of days. I'm driving a car without a brakes, roaming through the wood road, screaming for someone to appears.  I googled dream interpretation  'drive' and  it says-unpleasant experience.  It happened last night again. 

It must have been connected with his appearance in my life. Again.

I guess.

He came so unexpected, bringing me some very  new dimension of himself. Or maybe I took a new dimension. I tried not to fall under his influence, appearance, smell, look. I tried to resist  - not letting him to drag me. I listened him speaking, waving his hand with ciggarette in it trying to explain me something (which I maybe didn't listened, beacause I was in some other movie-trying to take off his clothes along with his dubiety). I wish I could be a ciggarette you smoke, I thought. I wish you to suck me with every single smoke you inhale.

I was trying to reach him over that chain but I couldn't - law of physics didn't let me. I would fall. It would be funny. So close, but yet so far. The only thing I could do is just feel his smell. It wasn't enough. Being beside someone you can not touch or feel drives me crazy. Especially when that someone walked so quickly through your life leaving everything you desire. I 'm feeling like Hansel and Gretel collecting his crumbs, but I'm not sure where it will lead  me. Is it going to bring me somewhere? Or maybe I'm gonna wonder around like I did in my dream last night ending up in some kind of a dark hole in misty woods. 

I felt proud. I didn't answer on his hidden intentions. Maybe they were not hidden - maybe I just wanted them to be. Stupid female! 

We'll go no more a roving

I try to fall asleep without your presence, without you in my thoughts last night. I tried, I really did.

Oh, Gods know I tried.

I sought for you the moment I put my head on the pillow and tuck myself into the warm and soft sheets. It didn't took long for my heart to take control over my mind. Seconds.

Night - it always gets me somewhere I want to be, especially when he is laying next to me in his  20th century old apartment with gobelins, old books about mechanics and records. I look around, absorbing every single detail of it. The colors, carpenter shades and tiny threads and that blanket with huge rhomboid I always got my leg stuck into.  I get closer to you so you could hear me breathing, feel my warmness, my cold feet. You used to warmed them up. I tried to explain you that they're always cold.  Coldness. 

So, I was thinking there, trying to fall asleep, but it didn't work out. I was looking at your face trying to think, imagine - do anything but without you in it.  How could anyone just stare at somebody without thinking? I could look him for hours.  Observing.

Sometimes you would ignore my hand strolling around your body. You would turn around, just kissed me or start touching my hair.

"Are we going to sleep?", you asked me. I turned to the other side of the bed and fell asleep with my eyes open.

Wear it like a shell

I was sitting the other day and thinking about people's search for happiness. Is there any scientific evidence that man can  actually find it?

 Happiness.

 It’s sounds like a guide to the galaxy or something.  Once you find it, you are fullfilled, satisfied, nothing can spoil it. You become a carrier of the same. But, there is one thing I more into: how strong can be the will of the one to start all over again once he/she looses it? I was always fascinated by human power and will for resistance, for taking one step forward, or, in my case- back.

Past.

We are all, somehow connected to it. It persecute us when we’re not even aware.  Sometimes you find it in a face, song , fallen leaves , Autumn, November, placard in a city centre which hasn’t been still detached. It’s so hard to forget past, but it’s even harder to  resist to it (especially when past was sweeter than present).

“You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking how you'll escape one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present.” John Green, Looking for Alaska

I am...

"Now and then you realize that all of them are constantly making a fool of you. But, you get used to it after a while." 

I paraphrased old friend of mine. She got married at her best age - the age you could conquer the whole world; got pregnant twice and now, her husband is cheating on her. She's OK with that. She told me few things 'every woman should know'. ( sounds like a headline from those chick magazines where they thought you how to behave in your unhappily marriage, what to wear or drink in front of your future husband, whether fart or not!)

"They are all the same. And, I can tell you 90 per cent of women are also the same. Every one of us was standing in front of the mirror and slapping herself in the face."

 I used to slap myself on the face now and then. It doesn't help. It doesn't even help when someone else does it. I turn Billie Holiday instead and feel sorry for myself.

We all did that right? I'll never forget what professor of mine told us girls once in high school:" You are perfect. He doesn't need to know you aren't. You will always have a smile on your face and behind the first corner cry as much as you can. In their eyes you will always be happy, beautiful, satisfied, successful. A lady." She is divorced.

Sounds like a Marilyn Monroe advice, but is this true? Can we show a little bit(much) of our emotions to men? I showed a little too much.

Lady.