A lesson never learned.

She stared at the ceiling and from time to time she closed her eyes maybe she’ll fall asleep. No victory on that front. She sat now on her bed, crossed legs and head in her hands. She thought at the past days. She thought about today. A tear ran down her cheek as she realized what she has done. Soon enough a tear became two and an insatious cry rushed over her. 

She couldn’t stop as she gave a thought to everything she did. It ripped her apart realizing that once more she threw it all away. She threw herself away. She never wanted this but something behind her screamed that it was the only way. She remembered the words her mother once told her… ‘Trust no one but yourself’. But what can she do now when of them all, the one who betrayed the most was herself. She made a promise to herself, she swore on her her father’s grave that she won’t do the same mistake again. Here she is, crying her lungs out, losing the count from the last time she said it would be the last. She began to feel like it was in her nature to break it all over again. Bits and pieces of the passed came to her mind making it hurt even more. She wanted to run, but this was the thing before she got here and before that and the list goes on and on. 

She looked at the bottle on her desk. As her nerves started to tickle in the back of her head, she got up, still crying, took the bottle and opened it. She looked at it with more disgust than she ever felt before. She opened the window and threw the bottle as hard as she could. She took a deep breath as she heard the glass shattering on the cement, but that was only a small piece of what she wanted to leave behind and it only made it worse that she had to get to this point. She felt more helpless than ever. She never wished to turn back the time than in this moment. She felt as if she was again in the 9th grade. Wrath was the only emotion she felt for a while. Again she felt it. This time not at the world, not at the people around her like she used to – it was easier to pass the guilt elsewhere – but at herself as she realized the she was the only architect of her own destruction. Long ago, when she thought that she was taking the pain away she used to say that self destruction was such a pretty little thing… she used to be the one telling herself that the only person that she needs is herself, that she wouldn’t trade her believes for anyone. Oh, how wrong she was. And this hit the hardest. The fact that she wasn’t her facade, the one she built from that dark day of June… it hit. And it was a decisive move. 

It made her feel everything at once and then nothing at all. She stared at her reflection in the window and felt nothing. She didn’t know which one was worse. Everything or nothing. She thought of how she could fix things. Until now she was successful into making it ‘right’ one way or another. This time was different. This time she knew that even a deal with the devil wouldn’t mask the truth that scratched her spine. And it felt like claws. She laid herself on the bed trying to shove the thoughts away only for one quite moment. It wasn’t the case as the sun started to pierce through her curtains. A new day was there, but unfortunately not a new life and certainly not a new her. She had to face it all over again today.

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Whisky Fever.

I’d like to stay for a chat. Not a small talk. An all night long talk. Let’s share a glass, or two, or the entire bottle. It won’t do us no harm… the talks thou… I bet they’ll get us tipsy.

I’d stay for nights to talk. I’d stay for even more to listen. I’d like to share an old good Chivas when you tell me your happiest memory. I’d tell you what was the one that made me the most content with life. And then the stories will flow.

I want to hear what made you this way. I want to know what made you change your ways. I want to descifire the puzzle that you are in between sips.

With every hint of orange dark chocolate that I swallow I want to find a new pattern in your self. With every marzipan incense I take in I want to search and create a new definition for you. With every pungent sting I want to explore the insights of your mind. With every sip I work around in my mouth I want to discover another piece – a piece of what makes you happy, a piece of what makes you tremble, a piece that makes you sail away, a piece that reminds you of you, a piece that makes you tell me about your childhood, a part that speaks about your heart, a piece describing bits of your soul.

I want to feel that peach scent in my mouth that tells me what makes your blood boil.

I want to be that powerful taste. I want to be the whisky that makes you shiver and shake. I want to be that almond spirit flavour that raves you when angry; that spirituous savor that ignates you in every single way and for every single thing. 

If this a 25 year old, I want to be The Icon.

I want to discover in you that aroma that not only will make me drink but also extract the uniqueness in scotch. I want you to make me be that genuine essence of ‘everything nice’ that can be found in the right spice.

Give me that rich gold chroma so I can be that luxurious long lingering sapor.

Let the bodies hit the floor.

Fuck.
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Fuck me and my mistakes. Fuck you. Fuck him. Fuck her. Fuck him especially. Fuck all of you. Fuck my belief that it might get better. Fuck my way of holding on. Fuck all of the people who don’t like me. Fuck that bitch. Fuck the one who fucks her. Fuck that city. Fuck that city, too. Fuck your friends. Fuck what we used to be. Fuck college. Fuck those songs. Fuck the past. Fuck the games. Fuck your lies. Fuck those fake people. Fuck your opinion. Fuck that nonsense. Fuck your morals. Fuck your attitude. Fuck your weaknesses. Fuck your promises. Fuck your admiration. Fuck love. Fuck hope. Fuck my ideas. Fuck my dream. Fuck your world. Fuck their society. Fuck that damn smile. Fuck those eyes. Fuck your face. Fuck those fancy clothes. Fuck his money. Fuck her skills. Fuck his talent. Fuck the so called blood. Fuck their pride. Fuck your name. Fuck this damn world.
Fuck off.
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Type a message…

Still counting.

Do these moments even evolve somehow or I sit here waiting for another stump to crash? I can see the snake eating itself in the same tremendous cycle… Every day, every week, every month and so on and so forth. To keep dreaming, to be daring… what for?! But if you do it… how do you do it? When do you do it? Do you just say “Fuck it. This ain’t for me.” Oh, mate… I wish I could. Compromise… that costs. It costs a lot of money, even more than the cost of a fucked up mind. Don’t you ever say “this is it” but then back down because you have no idea what’s next?! And how do you take/make the next?!

Between beers, cigarettes, a party there, a book read here… what the hell is this? Life? Hahah… funny. Not. Most of us used to watch films or TV series and thinking “Mate, college rocks. I can’t wait.” That happening somewhere in the seventh grade and then in high school we couldn’t wait to get out of there. Now we realize that college is that place where you are broke, barely alive from all-nighters spent either studying something that won’t be a priority in a “career” or drinking our brains of, a group of friends just as fucked up as us, no prince charming or a needy princess… just lectures that don’t make any sense and exam after exam… well… Fuck!

This was just my mind bursting after 48 hours of not sleeping, reminding myself that I have this thing called blog and the urge to bug other people than my roommates.Don’t you sympathize?!

“Beer you later, Bastards!”

I am.

On the 7th day, I go again. I go on with a game.

I am a woman. I am young. I am power. I am a wanderer. I am a collector. I am ephemeral. I am a reader. I am a writer. I am an Old Spirit. I am a player. I am the dissident. I am eternal. I am follower of the old ways. I am a smoker. I am a lover. I am a Faustian mind. I am a heart shaped box. I am sanguine. I am an addict for music, art, coffee, history, mystery. I am my weaknesses. I am bloody. I am a dark mind. I am a creator. I am a demon. I am a traveler. I am a destroyer. I am an escapist. I am a dreamer. I am a paradox. I am a hunter for pleasure. I am a visionary. I am negative. I am The Game. I am the Seven Sins combined. I am so much more.

I am everything in between who I was and who I will become. I am everything I want to be in this very moment. I am the perfect of the Imperfect.

For this is something I wanted to do for some time now… the start of a new era for me, something in my favors. Light and Dark. Fire and Ice. My Soul and my Mind. The Pages and the Ink. Everything my mind sees and creates is going to be impregnated on pages. I get inspired from everything surrounding me… animals, humans, elements, objects, space and time, life…

Enjoy your time, Bastards!

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