simon

beginning to hate the way writing in english became mandatory.. sometimes i think in english but sometimes i think in croatian, and i really hate having to translate my thoughts before writing them down..
dunno what i wanted to say.. damn, i'm gettin increasingly screwed up, disoriented, unhinged..
 

i didn't lose a friend cuz his GF demanded it.
i lost a friend cuz he values me just enough to do as told.

funny how people tend to judge.. easily.. other people.. germans are loud to the french, french are dirty to swedes, swedes are cold to italians, brits are uptight to portugese, swiss are order-obsessed to us.. 18 celsius is optimal temp for a croatian, too damn cold to the kenyan and goddamned hot to the inuit.
so why is it so damn hard to accept the fact that we all live in our own realities, that my reality is not yours and yours is not mine? and that what you see is YOUR perception and your reality and not MINE. so how can you judge me if you are not me, and you don't really know?
i KNOW when i'm pissed i KNOW when i'm happy I know when i'm disillusioned.. cuz i FEEL it, i don't just see outward expression of what i believe to be one thing or the other. when you perceive the same thing you merely GUESS, and you guess from your own shoes, not mine..
bottom line?
i don't know myself yet.. how could anyone else know me?
the only person you know is you. only person you can judge is you.
and as usual, PLEASE no comments. take it as it is. or dismiss it.

restlesness turned into recklesness.. an overwhelming feeling of "i don't give a fresh fuck". still bursting with energy.. raw, uncontrolled.. angry.. the kind that makes people run into walls screaming. the kind that once made me rip the seat out of my car.. and jump on the hood roaring..
i kinda like not giving a fresh fuck. i have never had too may internal limits.. all my limits have had to be imposed outwardly. as i grow older, i grow wilder.. with no inner limits and decreasing regard for the outer ones. the only one limit i have ever had, the one in which i CARE, is barely there.. i used to care so much..
there is a total kinda liberty in not caring. not giving a rat's ass..
guess i'm going crazy.

dunno why i have been leavin' so many lil notes.. truth is i've been so restless.. damn, i'm always restless.. but t's like i'm gettin worse by the minute.. sometimes i feel like i'm gonna burst.. fuckin' xplode.. too much energy, too lil chances to spend it.. cept driving.. i do so much of that shit.. one huge scream coming down my right foot.. burn baby, burn.. is it any wonder i've spawned a child made of liquid energy??! too old for this crap..
and no.. i will not fuck just anyone.. but i will fight just about anyone.. everyone.. the bigger the better.. good god, someone.. anyone..  give me a cross look, just one.. and i'll give my sharp lil tongue and my baseball bat.. one or the other.. maybe both..

this line of work i am in.. chasing deadlines all the fuckin time..
so tired..

i have no friends here.
i am noone here.
noone really knows me...
 
and words are just words.
not emotions.
 
to feel the emotion you have to stand close enough to see the color of my eyes.

becoming an expert in closing the books. letting go. or so I. says.
so why did she make me another batch of "movin-on-drops"?
dunno.
i hate fuckin lettin go. it goes against my very nature.

bivsi decki maju cure, a ja imam hordu manijaka koji bi me zveknuli.
za popizdit..

sex without emotions.
leaves me cold. and hungry.

piki ima presladak nosic i hoda kad prica na mobitel. vozi bicikl kao da je traktor. ne pitaj.. ima 4.5 godine ali je visine i tezine skolarca. ima 4 rupice iznad guze, kao i ja, a ne dvije. dize desnu obrvu, kao i ja. promijeni sto pozicija u snu i onda tresne na pod. pod oko kreveta opasan je jastucima.. piki moli andjele cuvaru mili cuvaj mene malenog i .. (onda nabroji bar 15 ljudi, psa i kucu). stalno hoce da ga skakljam po ledjima i citam uvijek iste slikovnice. vristi od srece kad dinosaur u "night at the museum" plays fetch. voli juhu, ne voli meso, kao i ja. izmedju jogurta i montea odabrat ce monte kao i mama, ne jogurt kao dundo. piki je sinoc srebrnim flomicem zamazao pod, ekran TVa, ormar, hlace i majicu i dobio samo jednu susku. za plavi flomic na zidu u hodniku ni jednu. kao, to je ipak samo zid. piki me grli, kaze volim te mama kao da hoce da mi srce ostane u grlu i ugusi me. nadje crknutog leptirica i nece ga baciti u smece jer ce "je jadan" i "sad ce ozivjeti". tutne mi nogu pod nos i kaze "nogica hoce pusu". stalno trazi dalezokor jer ga nikad ne pospremi. gleda national geographicov dozlabogadosadan DVD o asteroidima kao da je neznamtigabogsto i zeli ici gledati "semir" kroz veliki teleskop.. poslala mail u zvjezdarnicu u visnjanu.. piki sutra ide na more. pliva bez rukavica. "cura" mu se zove katarina, ima 14 godina i uci ga roniti. a ja sam jos uvijek u zagrebu. sranje.

somewhere that the person whose calls you always answer (whose msgs you always reply to) is the person you are in a relationship with..
makes perfect damn sense.
'cept by that criterion i am in a relationship with two of my exes..
 
 

err is human, to forgive divine.. and i ain' no god..
ipak, mislim da mogu oprostiti gotovo sve.. pitanje je samo koliko puta kome..

"I think about the meaning of pain. Pain is personal. It really belongs to the one feeling it. Probably the only thing that is your own. I like mine."
 
"If the milk turns out to be sour, I ain't the kinda pussy to drink it".

funny.. my guess would be that the ones who comment other people's lives have least life of their own.
the more bitter the comments, the more barren the life from which they speak.
amazing.
yet nothing to (do with) me.