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.
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..
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…
Do you ever want your life was like a good movie?!
As if you start to watch it (I mean movie) without great interest, but the beginning seems to be, don’t know, encouraging, then you find that actors are very kind and everything is evolving, let’s say, briskly enough, but later there comes a time when you notice that nothing is happening and you feel bored, but you still feel drawn to the characters in that movie and your desire to know how it ends hasn’t gone anywhere. Then former boredom goes away, as if there had been no mention of it, and you start to applaud mentally to the screenwriter and wipe away your own tears sometimes. So you are overwhelmed with happiness when the end credits come and you are almost sure that better movie has not been made yet.
Now my life is at the stage when you feel like you are a small detail from a big puzzle looking for a place to fit perfectly but… but the truth is that it’s a wrong puzzle…
Oh wait, this wasn’t in the list…