Cekoram. Po rabot na stvarnosta a so svrten grb na mesecinata. So osamena nasmevka I zalutan pogled. So skrseni sonista I so izvesna idnina.
Ladno e. Ne mi studi. Temno e. Ne mi e strav. Zaspivam. Ne sakam da se razbudam. Odam poleka. Poleka. Nikoj da ne cue. Nikoj da ne mi go ukrade zdivot. Nikoj da ne cue deka sum tuka. Da ne vidi svetot deka postojam. Boli. Ne vristam. Pece. Ne umiram. Nikoj ne slusa. Se smeam. Nikoj ne primetuva.
Nasmevka. Solza. Krajnosti. Zivot so rizici.
Rizikuvav. Izgubiv.
Sega, me demne sepot I senka. Me demnat prasanja.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
thinking.. in the air
It is hard to write this in the plane, having in mind that I am super tired, but still I am not able to take a nap. It is hard period. Another one in the road, another chance, opportunity, second chance of me being happy in the place where everyone else is.
Second time flying the “big water”. It feels weird. In a weird way I feel like I am somewhere in between.. In between what I was and what I want to be in future. Or at least what I imagine being.
I am on a half way through life. Trying hard to survive. Trying hard to keep smiling. Trying hard to say that I can DO this as I have done many times before.
Again. In the scene of life I feel lost. I feel broken, but strong, I feel tired but entousiastic, I want to disapear, but still I want to survive.
I, I, I.. it seems that it is all about me. NO, it is not. It is about everybody else. Everybody that tries to convince me that need me. It is about stupid destiny. It is about hope. It is about temptation. My feelings are just one part of the whole situation. That’s why I write in I style.
The goodbye scene was again present. The small gathering at home, the food, the airport. Many many people, but I was feeling sooo empty and lonely. Like never before. It was different. My father and grandfather werent there to remind me that they loved me. I know they did love me, I just feel it is not fair. It is not fair! Can you here me screaming in the plane, with tears in my eyes. Can you hear my heart mealting? Can you read my letters to God, in which I am ordering him to stop taking people from my life? Letters in which I am writing that this is not fun anymore, and that I can not stand anymore? Can you see that I can not take any other temptation? Can you see that I do not believe any more? If you can , please tell your loving God in which you all believe that I am not sure what is right and what wrong anymore..So do not dare to judge me…
Back on the second farewell. I was survivng the same scene from August, and I was dying. Literally. I was packing my bags and remind my self how my father was making fun of my big baggage. I was seating with the rest of the family and I was remembering his voice and his jokes with my friends and my uncle. I was sleeping and I was feeling his presence next to me the night before I left. I was eating home made “croassants” and I was thinking how he was eating them with me in the car. The same people again in the car. He is gone. The home is empty. Now daddy, I am the one that cries, not you.. We changed our roles. You were crying when I left, telling my brother that it is hard. Now I cry and tell the world that is way harder daddy.
I left for the second time. With broken hopes and fake smile. I left my empty home. I left everyone there that needs me. And I am not sure if I can make through this. I am not strong anymore. I can not b
Second time flying the “big water”. It feels weird. In a weird way I feel like I am somewhere in between.. In between what I was and what I want to be in future. Or at least what I imagine being.
I am on a half way through life. Trying hard to survive. Trying hard to keep smiling. Trying hard to say that I can DO this as I have done many times before.
Again. In the scene of life I feel lost. I feel broken, but strong, I feel tired but entousiastic, I want to disapear, but still I want to survive.
I, I, I.. it seems that it is all about me. NO, it is not. It is about everybody else. Everybody that tries to convince me that need me. It is about stupid destiny. It is about hope. It is about temptation. My feelings are just one part of the whole situation. That’s why I write in I style.
The goodbye scene was again present. The small gathering at home, the food, the airport. Many many people, but I was feeling sooo empty and lonely. Like never before. It was different. My father and grandfather werent there to remind me that they loved me. I know they did love me, I just feel it is not fair. It is not fair! Can you here me screaming in the plane, with tears in my eyes. Can you hear my heart mealting? Can you read my letters to God, in which I am ordering him to stop taking people from my life? Letters in which I am writing that this is not fun anymore, and that I can not stand anymore? Can you see that I can not take any other temptation? Can you see that I do not believe any more? If you can , please tell your loving God in which you all believe that I am not sure what is right and what wrong anymore..So do not dare to judge me…
Back on the second farewell. I was survivng the same scene from August, and I was dying. Literally. I was packing my bags and remind my self how my father was making fun of my big baggage. I was seating with the rest of the family and I was remembering his voice and his jokes with my friends and my uncle. I was sleeping and I was feeling his presence next to me the night before I left. I was eating home made “croassants” and I was thinking how he was eating them with me in the car. The same people again in the car. He is gone. The home is empty. Now daddy, I am the one that cries, not you.. We changed our roles. You were crying when I left, telling my brother that it is hard. Now I cry and tell the world that is way harder daddy.
I left for the second time. With broken hopes and fake smile. I left my empty home. I left everyone there that needs me. And I am not sure if I can make through this. I am not strong anymore. I can not b
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
bye bye
It was cold winter day. Like every other in December.. I was waking up and I was feeling confused. Some weird feeling of loneliness, relief, hope, sadness.. Like in a dream. I was secretly hoping that I was dreaming and that soon I will woke up and everything will be the same.
The day before, I said my last goodbye to my father. In a period of 42 hours, I came back from 6000 miles away, I barely slept, I was hearing my father hard breathing and I’ve heard him taking his last breath and also I through dust and sand in the place that now I call “my parents home”.
All in between I was surrounded by people who were repeating “be strong”. I was whispering “I will” not even realizing what is going on. I was feeling empty, emotionless. In me, everything was dead. It was me in a condition semi-conscious and the rest of the world gossiping about something that I never really understood.
Now I was awake and confused. The mix of feeling was here to remind me that something was wrong. I could cry, but I didn’t. I could scream, but I didn’t. I could stay in my room feeling sorry about my life, but I didn’t. at this point I felt guilty. Why am I not suffering? Or is this suffering? Or.. I have to talk at loud how much I miss my parents? Or even more, how much I miss MY life with my parents? How much I miss being innocent girls whose parents laugh at loud while they shop together and raise their kids in a way that they think is right.. And be there for their kids to show them the world, to show them the beauty of the nature, the beauty of every single day that many people forget to cherish. I was thinking about this and still hoping that something will be the same again.
It is empty. My home is empty. There is no smile in it. There is no reason to stay inside in it. There is nothing inside. Just 3 broken hearths that can never be the same. Hearts who beat now only for one thing-go and visit the “eternal home” of their loved ones.
Is this suffering? Do I suffer without crying? Because I feel that my tears are drained and that my personality is empty. I can not even suffer any more…
I don’t talk about my lost. I try to skip the part that has to explain how do I feel and pass on some other subject. With a smile. Fake..
At this point I don’t even want to try to pretend that I care about what others will think and I Don’t care at all if someone will think that I don’t miss my father or that its too soon for me to smile. I smile because it is easier to walk in life with a smile on my face. Although is fake.
And yes. I do miss my parents. But I miss my life with them more. The saddest thing when someone dies is about people being selfish . We don’t cry because someone is not alive, we cry because we miss them. I miss my parents, but I don’t cry. I don’t think that I love at this point too. As I mentioned. I feel empty and I am walking in every single day empty,. With half heart broken and other half that maybe doesn’t want to survive.
And I will smile.. But don’t ask me why… Maybe because its not a dream.. Its real.. So I smile in my destiny’s face.
As a friend says “because you are fluent in sarcasm”. Maybe that is all I have left.
The day before, I said my last goodbye to my father. In a period of 42 hours, I came back from 6000 miles away, I barely slept, I was hearing my father hard breathing and I’ve heard him taking his last breath and also I through dust and sand in the place that now I call “my parents home”.
All in between I was surrounded by people who were repeating “be strong”. I was whispering “I will” not even realizing what is going on. I was feeling empty, emotionless. In me, everything was dead. It was me in a condition semi-conscious and the rest of the world gossiping about something that I never really understood.
Now I was awake and confused. The mix of feeling was here to remind me that something was wrong. I could cry, but I didn’t. I could scream, but I didn’t. I could stay in my room feeling sorry about my life, but I didn’t. at this point I felt guilty. Why am I not suffering? Or is this suffering? Or.. I have to talk at loud how much I miss my parents? Or even more, how much I miss MY life with my parents? How much I miss being innocent girls whose parents laugh at loud while they shop together and raise their kids in a way that they think is right.. And be there for their kids to show them the world, to show them the beauty of the nature, the beauty of every single day that many people forget to cherish. I was thinking about this and still hoping that something will be the same again.
It is empty. My home is empty. There is no smile in it. There is no reason to stay inside in it. There is nothing inside. Just 3 broken hearths that can never be the same. Hearts who beat now only for one thing-go and visit the “eternal home” of their loved ones.
Is this suffering? Do I suffer without crying? Because I feel that my tears are drained and that my personality is empty. I can not even suffer any more…
I don’t talk about my lost. I try to skip the part that has to explain how do I feel and pass on some other subject. With a smile. Fake..
At this point I don’t even want to try to pretend that I care about what others will think and I Don’t care at all if someone will think that I don’t miss my father or that its too soon for me to smile. I smile because it is easier to walk in life with a smile on my face. Although is fake.
And yes. I do miss my parents. But I miss my life with them more. The saddest thing when someone dies is about people being selfish . We don’t cry because someone is not alive, we cry because we miss them. I miss my parents, but I don’t cry. I don’t think that I love at this point too. As I mentioned. I feel empty and I am walking in every single day empty,. With half heart broken and other half that maybe doesn’t want to survive.
And I will smile.. But don’t ask me why… Maybe because its not a dream.. Its real.. So I smile in my destiny’s face.
As a friend says “because you are fluent in sarcasm”. Maybe that is all I have left.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
deep inside
Step by step
in this dark dark room
i hear a whisper, i hear a cry
one girl falls apart,
one heart slowly dies.
Questions, no answers
Pain, no cure
Hard breathing and dreaming
hoping for something new...
Listen that quiet walker,
listen that lonely dreamer,
listen that broken soul,
listen those warm tears...
Looking for a change,
looking for a revelation
she keeps hoping
but her heart still cries
she keeps the smile
she brakes the rules,
she plays the game
she is going to survive...
One broken smile.
One lost walker...
One hope...
Million questions
"We don't choose our life. The life chooses us"
in this dark dark room
i hear a whisper, i hear a cry
one girl falls apart,
one heart slowly dies.
Questions, no answers
Pain, no cure
Hard breathing and dreaming
hoping for something new...
Listen that quiet walker,
listen that lonely dreamer,
listen that broken soul,
listen those warm tears...
Looking for a change,
looking for a revelation
she keeps hoping
but her heart still cries
she keeps the smile
she brakes the rules,
she plays the game
she is going to survive...
One broken smile.
One lost walker...
One hope...
Million questions
"We don't choose our life. The life chooses us"
me=broken 22/12/2009
I had a nightmare. My body went all in pain, and I woke up right when the tears started to flow down my face. All in pain I was waking up, in the far far America, and I was thinking “is it everything alright?”.
Then, grabbing the computer and waiting for a sigh, if not the phone. Calling and waiting an answer. Meanwhile my stomach, all wrapped in pain barely let me eat. Good news. Home everything is alright. Or I think it is.
Again and again, in 4 months, the same nightmare, the same routine, the same fear, the same hope, the same questions..
One morning, I got call that stated “ come home, father is not doing well”
I knew that my nightmare will become true. I always guess what will happen in my dreams. I hate to fall asleep just because.
Crying all over and over again and looking for answers. Why my father? Why while I am here? Why did I came at first place? Did he knew that I love him? Did he knew that every single day started with the same fears and hopes about him?
Putting smile on my face, while my heart is melting I am announcing that I am returning home. My new, american friends, all wondering what is the reason about my decision try to convince me that I should stay, that I they will miss me.
I try explaining but I stop in the middle. My body fights to get air. Since that Friday, my days are fight with the time. I never, ever imagined that I could pray to see my father alive, if his condition can be described as alive, just to tell him that I love him, and that school is not more important then he is.
Now, after 30 hours in air, airports, states, countries, I am waiting for my last flight and I am hoping that I will be strong enough to face the situation. To face that my father, at this point can not hear, see, or fell my presence. To face the fact that I couldn’t say to him his last goodbye.
Isn’t ironic? The hope that my father will still breath when I see him, without even thinking about the fact that he might be in pain, and the fact that he is waiting me is a true torture for him.
But I gave a promise one month ago. I gave him a promise that I will be with him if situation got worse. Now I wonder, did I really did that, am I good daughter? Is he proud of me?
My brother is here to remind me that I still have someone left, and that I still need to breath for him. For us.. For the ones that had perfect parents and lost both of them, within 5 years, from the same disease.
This is sad returning. 4 days I am trying to find an explanation and reason why? I will probably do that in the next years, and I will probably wont find any logical answer. Because no answer can be right. Because it is not fair to go through all this at this age, when we, and they should enjoy in their best years together.
And please, friends. I know that you all care, and love us. But I honestly don’t want to hear take care, stay positive, get some rest, it will be ok etc. Because I KNOW that it wont be ok, I know that I cant stay positive and I know that I have to be alone to find some answer why this is happening to me.
I just hope, that none of you have to go through this, never. Cause it really separates my soul, heart, thinking and existing. Because it’s the worst thing that can happen to you at the age of 20.
And by the way.. I hate winter, I hate snow, I hate December and January… Cause the winter takes it all..
p.s. i got home, my father still breaths, hardly.. the last days countdown..
Then, grabbing the computer and waiting for a sigh, if not the phone. Calling and waiting an answer. Meanwhile my stomach, all wrapped in pain barely let me eat. Good news. Home everything is alright. Or I think it is.
Again and again, in 4 months, the same nightmare, the same routine, the same fear, the same hope, the same questions..
One morning, I got call that stated “ come home, father is not doing well”
I knew that my nightmare will become true. I always guess what will happen in my dreams. I hate to fall asleep just because.
Crying all over and over again and looking for answers. Why my father? Why while I am here? Why did I came at first place? Did he knew that I love him? Did he knew that every single day started with the same fears and hopes about him?
Putting smile on my face, while my heart is melting I am announcing that I am returning home. My new, american friends, all wondering what is the reason about my decision try to convince me that I should stay, that I they will miss me.
I try explaining but I stop in the middle. My body fights to get air. Since that Friday, my days are fight with the time. I never, ever imagined that I could pray to see my father alive, if his condition can be described as alive, just to tell him that I love him, and that school is not more important then he is.
Now, after 30 hours in air, airports, states, countries, I am waiting for my last flight and I am hoping that I will be strong enough to face the situation. To face that my father, at this point can not hear, see, or fell my presence. To face the fact that I couldn’t say to him his last goodbye.
Isn’t ironic? The hope that my father will still breath when I see him, without even thinking about the fact that he might be in pain, and the fact that he is waiting me is a true torture for him.
But I gave a promise one month ago. I gave him a promise that I will be with him if situation got worse. Now I wonder, did I really did that, am I good daughter? Is he proud of me?
My brother is here to remind me that I still have someone left, and that I still need to breath for him. For us.. For the ones that had perfect parents and lost both of them, within 5 years, from the same disease.
This is sad returning. 4 days I am trying to find an explanation and reason why? I will probably do that in the next years, and I will probably wont find any logical answer. Because no answer can be right. Because it is not fair to go through all this at this age, when we, and they should enjoy in their best years together.
And please, friends. I know that you all care, and love us. But I honestly don’t want to hear take care, stay positive, get some rest, it will be ok etc. Because I KNOW that it wont be ok, I know that I cant stay positive and I know that I have to be alone to find some answer why this is happening to me.
I just hope, that none of you have to go through this, never. Cause it really separates my soul, heart, thinking and existing. Because it’s the worst thing that can happen to you at the age of 20.
And by the way.. I hate winter, I hate snow, I hate December and January… Cause the winter takes it all..
p.s. i got home, my father still breaths, hardly.. the last days countdown..
Sunday, October 25, 2009
pocivaj vo mir dedicko :(
pred brzo vreme pisuvav kako dedo dobi udar i kako ne se znae kolku ke zivee.. Epa, moite doma znaele deka se raboti za denovi, ama mene mi kazaa deka moze da zivee podolgo za da ne sekiram..
Neznam dali ke uspeam ova da go dopisam ili ke prekinam na pola zatoa sto mnogu me boli samata pomisla deka dedo go nema veke i verojatno ke pocnam da placam kako malo dete dodeka go pisuvam ova, a ne bi trebalo zatoa sto sum vo soba za ucenje so uste 3 ca.
vtornik, i poraka od vlatko.. "sase, dedo pocina denes vo 16 casot"
zosto, kako...? zosto bas mojot dedicko, zosto sega?
placev, i sega mi se solzat ocite koa ke mi tekne kako me isprati i kolku se raduvase na ovaa moja sansa.
nemozam...
ke prodolzam drug den ...
mozebi koga ke pomine nekoe vreme i ke mozam da se sekavam na nego so nasmevka ...sega nemozam.. mnogu boli..
pocivaj vo mir dedicko i da znaes deka te sakam premnogu
Neznam dali ke uspeam ova da go dopisam ili ke prekinam na pola zatoa sto mnogu me boli samata pomisla deka dedo go nema veke i verojatno ke pocnam da placam kako malo dete dodeka go pisuvam ova, a ne bi trebalo zatoa sto sum vo soba za ucenje so uste 3 ca.
vtornik, i poraka od vlatko.. "sase, dedo pocina denes vo 16 casot"
zosto, kako...? zosto bas mojot dedicko, zosto sega?
placev, i sega mi se solzat ocite koa ke mi tekne kako me isprati i kolku se raduvase na ovaa moja sansa.
nemozam...
ke prodolzam drug den ...
mozebi koga ke pomine nekoe vreme i ke mozam da se sekavam na nego so nasmevka ...sega nemozam.. mnogu boli..
pocivaj vo mir dedicko i da znaes deka te sakam premnogu
Thursday, October 15, 2009
dodeka razmisluvam za se...16.10.2009
Ponekogas stvarno nemozam da razberam kako i zosto se slucuvaat nekoi raboti vo zivotot. Zosto mora da pominuvame niz procesot na raganje, zivot i kraj. Zosto mora da se soocuvame so toa? neli ima nesto izmegu? neli postoi nesto poveke od samo edna sansa?
Denes e poseben den.. Pred 2 godini na ovoj den, slusnav nesto sto me natera da se otkazam od se vo sto dotogas veruvav.Tose zagina.. Dali nekoj od vas znae tocno sto on mi znacese?
Ne, ne bese samo detska iluzija, ne bese samo son na malo devojce koe se zanesuvase deka ke se omazi so nego. bese poveke od toa. Bese del od mojot zivot. bese moja podrska. Bese moj, na najposeben nacin. Vo mojot svet jas ne go delev so nikoj. Vo mojot svet se bese ednostavno perfektno.
Eden mesec prethodno mu bev na promocija na koncertot. "Izbrani" luge smeea da vlezat. jas kako sekogas se izbutkav da bidam vo prv red. Peese so cuden sjaj vo ocite, a jas kako i sekogas gi znaev site pesni. Me znaese. pa koj ne bi, posle tolku dosaganje. Koga ke mi tekne kolku se raduvav koga mu odev na promocii preku spisanie. Se pravev "vazna". ete me mene kade sto malku luge mozat da vlezat. =)
Sakav da go gusnam ... si rekov ajde nema smisla, ima premnogu luge. Jas i taka ke imam mnogu drugi sansi, jas i taka go imam gusnato 10000 pati ..
Si otidov...
Edna nedela pokasno peev pak. Silno. Vristev kako sto imav navika da pravam na negovite koncerti. Ednostavno begav od realnosta. Vo tie momenti bev najsrekna. Nisto ne bese bitno. Niti ostanatite 20 000 luge, niti ladnoto, niti svetlata. Samo on. Samo muzikata..
Odednas, eden glupav vtornik se vrakav od francuski i ne znam zosto odgovoriv na povikot na mobilen. Slusnav: Tose Proeski pocina vo sobrakajna nesreka.
Go spustiv telefonot. ne kazav nisto. Ne veruvav.
Trcav do doma. Otidov kaj marija. Placese. Se osvestiv deka e vistina ama ne placev. Bev zbuneta.
razmiluvav.. se prasuvav kako e mozno edno BUM da srusi se.. Kako? Zosto?
bev kako vo son. nemozev da se kontroliram kolku placam i pred kogo. Na red plostad legnav na zemja i guskav negova slika. Si odev nakaj doma i glasno go kolnev zivotot. Zosto???? Kazete mi zosto????
BUM..
Dedo odi vo wc i BUM, paga na zemja. Mozocen udar. BUM. 1 sec. samo tolku e dovolno se da rasipe. Doznav deka nema da se oporavi. Star e i centarot za ramnoteza mu e osteten.BUM. ke zivee 1 den, 1 nedela, 1 mesec, 1 ili 10 godini. i ke si otide. bas kako mama i tose. bas kako tetka radica. BUM. i nikoj nema da se seti posle 2 godini zatoa sto site ke bidat premnogu zafateni so sopstvenite glupavi problemi.
tato stanuva. go boli stomak. odime vo bolnica. slusam ima tumor. ne se znae kako ke se razviva. ne se dobri prognozite. BUM. samo taka. se kazuva li takvo nesto tuku taka. Ama na nikoj ne mu e gajle. Sekoj si go kreira sekojdnevieto spored negovite potrebi. Samo jas ne pretpostavuvam. treba da mislam deka se boram za dva zivota vo isto vreme, a deka patam za 3 zaminati. Koga jas ke ziveam togas? Koga ke nosam bolka vo dusata za sekoj del od srceto koj mi e otkinat?
Koga mislam na zivotot i se prasuvam zosto ne e fer kon mene? Koga sum 10000 km daleku i nemozam ni sopstveniot brat da go gusnam? Koga sedam vo glupava komp labaratorija i mislam dali utre ke docekam da se slusnam so moite doma i dali site sto me ispratija ke bidat tamu koga ke se vratam?
Da, zosto ziveeme? za da probame razlicni raboti, da pocustvuvame bolka i troska sreka i da zamineme. BAM. just like that!
Denes e poseben den.. Pred 2 godini na ovoj den, slusnav nesto sto me natera da se otkazam od se vo sto dotogas veruvav.Tose zagina.. Dali nekoj od vas znae tocno sto on mi znacese?
Ne, ne bese samo detska iluzija, ne bese samo son na malo devojce koe se zanesuvase deka ke se omazi so nego. bese poveke od toa. Bese del od mojot zivot. bese moja podrska. Bese moj, na najposeben nacin. Vo mojot svet jas ne go delev so nikoj. Vo mojot svet se bese ednostavno perfektno.
Eden mesec prethodno mu bev na promocija na koncertot. "Izbrani" luge smeea da vlezat. jas kako sekogas se izbutkav da bidam vo prv red. Peese so cuden sjaj vo ocite, a jas kako i sekogas gi znaev site pesni. Me znaese. pa koj ne bi, posle tolku dosaganje. Koga ke mi tekne kolku se raduvav koga mu odev na promocii preku spisanie. Se pravev "vazna". ete me mene kade sto malku luge mozat da vlezat. =)
Sakav da go gusnam ... si rekov ajde nema smisla, ima premnogu luge. Jas i taka ke imam mnogu drugi sansi, jas i taka go imam gusnato 10000 pati ..
Si otidov...
Edna nedela pokasno peev pak. Silno. Vristev kako sto imav navika da pravam na negovite koncerti. Ednostavno begav od realnosta. Vo tie momenti bev najsrekna. Nisto ne bese bitno. Niti ostanatite 20 000 luge, niti ladnoto, niti svetlata. Samo on. Samo muzikata..
Odednas, eden glupav vtornik se vrakav od francuski i ne znam zosto odgovoriv na povikot na mobilen. Slusnav: Tose Proeski pocina vo sobrakajna nesreka.
Go spustiv telefonot. ne kazav nisto. Ne veruvav.
Trcav do doma. Otidov kaj marija. Placese. Se osvestiv deka e vistina ama ne placev. Bev zbuneta.
razmiluvav.. se prasuvav kako e mozno edno BUM da srusi se.. Kako? Zosto?
bev kako vo son. nemozev da se kontroliram kolku placam i pred kogo. Na red plostad legnav na zemja i guskav negova slika. Si odev nakaj doma i glasno go kolnev zivotot. Zosto???? Kazete mi zosto????
BUM..
Dedo odi vo wc i BUM, paga na zemja. Mozocen udar. BUM. 1 sec. samo tolku e dovolno se da rasipe. Doznav deka nema da se oporavi. Star e i centarot za ramnoteza mu e osteten.BUM. ke zivee 1 den, 1 nedela, 1 mesec, 1 ili 10 godini. i ke si otide. bas kako mama i tose. bas kako tetka radica. BUM. i nikoj nema da se seti posle 2 godini zatoa sto site ke bidat premnogu zafateni so sopstvenite glupavi problemi.
tato stanuva. go boli stomak. odime vo bolnica. slusam ima tumor. ne se znae kako ke se razviva. ne se dobri prognozite. BUM. samo taka. se kazuva li takvo nesto tuku taka. Ama na nikoj ne mu e gajle. Sekoj si go kreira sekojdnevieto spored negovite potrebi. Samo jas ne pretpostavuvam. treba da mislam deka se boram za dva zivota vo isto vreme, a deka patam za 3 zaminati. Koga jas ke ziveam togas? Koga ke nosam bolka vo dusata za sekoj del od srceto koj mi e otkinat?
Koga mislam na zivotot i se prasuvam zosto ne e fer kon mene? Koga sum 10000 km daleku i nemozam ni sopstveniot brat da go gusnam? Koga sedam vo glupava komp labaratorija i mislam dali utre ke docekam da se slusnam so moite doma i dali site sto me ispratija ke bidat tamu koga ke se vratam?
Da, zosto ziveeme? za da probame razlicni raboti, da pocustvuvame bolka i troska sreka i da zamineme. BAM. just like that!
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