Author: volk

just a nice girl who dreams about changing the world for better..

guess-work & reality..

CxIfcWNhG48You think you have foreseen everything that could happen with you in the nearest future but life oratorically signals that your imagination is the way not good enough at all.

before my eyes..

zepdUOYkG-YI feel like some secrets of life were bared before my eyes. I want to stop and I want nothing more to know, but it’s impossible because there is a fucking running track under my feet so if I stop I will definitely hit the damn wall.

I live in Donetsk and..

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I live in Donetsk and.. in short , it’s the time when I hate reality more then ever before…

I can’t even enjoy that short list of things I like. For example, I can’t read books! But I like to read books, one of my biggest dreams is to have my own huge library. I need to read books in order to forget (at least for a while) about the whole madness that revels in my country for almost half a year. But I open the book, my eyes, running, get to the last line and I need to turn the page but I feel curiosity because I can’t remember what I’ve just read about…

And the thought occurred to me that if it was a book, I mean if everything that’s happening in my country now has ever been described in the book, not a documentary, but fiction one, I’m afraid none of examples of small edition would ever been read to the end, because of the incredible absurdity crying in almost every line, and the author would be torn to pieces by critics and likely found insane.


through the veins..

Despite the fact that I don’t spend much time on my little sad blog, I continue to love it. So now I want to share a new note that I found recently: “Did you know there are people-wolves? No, I’m not talking about werewolves. But I’m pretty much sure they exist too. These are people familiarity with whom doesn’t portend pain or frustration until you relax and allow yourself to approach close enough..

But I want to talk about quite different example of human nature.. About those who are always ready to do everything for their own “troop” and those who’ll never be able to spend their own devotion to objects that haven’t natural desire to value such acts and won’t respond in a similar way. Yes, they are not marching in step with the time, because every molecule will rise in revolt and will resist if only somebody attempts to impose foreign truth on them. Live according to others rules is not an option, because to feel like a beast closed in a too small cage by not very attentive zoo worker, has nothing in common with the definition of life that was put in them by nature.”

There wasn’t any date, so I have no idea when these words were written by me. I just know that I always felt great admiration about so smart and especial representatives of the animal world – wolves, as well as I with bated breath watch strong people who know exactly what life they want to live, who always say words they can’t keep inside and never wait for the perfect moment to speak out, who don’t need to read the Bible to know what is right and what is wrong because these definitions are flowing through their veins and stuck in their brain since they were born.

So yes, I know what I meant when I was writing these words..


What if, with that set of qualities that define your character, some of which are instilled due to people who were around you and your own environment at all in maturing period, others – due to conclusions you draw from reading the books or observed situations, especially those that are not rejected by your own stubborn consciousness and not contradict mental settings, existence in this world is possible, but there is no option to be happy?!.
Just as the efforts of a small child who is trying to push a square object in a triangular hole, doomed to failure.

In brief, total discrepancy..


note, summer, memories..

I found a note again, dated 08.08.12 and this is what in it:

“Summer.. You close your eyes and see how you, 10 years old, race barefoot along the dusty road.. or  see how you’re sitting on a tree with an apricot in your hand or splashing in a cool pond and you can even remember how wet hair touched your tanned skin.. then you see yourself with a large slice of watermelon and sweet juice runs down your arms and chin… also you see yourself at the table in front of a huge, as it seemed at that age, grandmother’s plate of borscht… you do remember your own carefree laughter, games and friends, chat on a bench under the sky full of stars, and how you dreamt to grow up faster..
and in those brief moments you feel life again..
I heard that summer is a little life, but it seems that only in childhood.. “


I know that these memories have some value only for me but I don’t want to change anything…


A thought was clear when my head rested on the pillow last night, and the sentences were formed without difficulties. I hoped that there won’t be any problems with the transfer of that idea into the paper in the morning.

And now all I remember – is the individual words and phrases, and I had to strain some forces for writing this text.

A plenty of unpleasant moments overload my memory at this moment. I want to speak out, but it’s hard to begin.

The truth is that disappointments and betrayals are accompanying us all our life. The process of overcoming disappointment people have the habit to call – maturing. It is assumed that we have to draw conclusions and learn from our own mistakes, to prevent any repetition of a similar situation in the future.

I don’t know how about others, but this formula doesn’t work for me.

I read somewhere that there is a material that can be crushed and made in any shape, but after a while it returns to its previous state. That’s how I feel. All the experience and every received blow deformed me and my mind, but only for a while.

I know that I’m not a quick learner, who is unable to learn from the past and condemned to repeat it. I prefer to look at this world in the same way as I always do, with eyes wide open, in expectation, that in my life will be people who never have a desire to knock out my, opened for them, soul.


And every time I write I doubt that thought is filed correctly, but I can’t leave this inside of my head, so it’s fine…