I looked around my room and i saw a lot of papers and there were notes on them. I wrote them down weeks ago. I had insomnia. I looked in my phone and found so many notes written as textmesseges. Never sent to someone. Never meant to someone. Maybe the adress was me? I will stick them together and they will make a story. Story about feelings, sences and experiences. Here is the first one.
Sometimes i don’t know who i am.
Sometimes i feel desicions i make are not mine. It feels like someone else is living inside of me and using my heart, brain and body. And my soul there is trying to fight with that someone.
Sometimes i feel constatly under pressure. Is it me, pushing my self down? You have to live fast, you have to make right desicions, you have to have drivers license, you have to have nicely designed instagram feed. Are you already a bit famous? Do you have a lot of fallowers? Have you traweled the world? Do you have your degree? Are you having successful career? Did you bought something from latest H&M fashion line? Are you living with your soulmate? Does your flat can host enough people? Do you even have one?
Sometimes i do not remember how to smile. Lift your lips a bit up, meybe show a bit of your teeth.Well you have to do it. Remember? When you were a teen your parents invested a lot of money in them.I am sorry. I did not invest enough in my heart to smile now.
Sometimes i feel like growing out of things. Activity that made my eyes shine just month ago suddenly does not seem important. Dream that i loved two years ago has faded away. Faces that i loved to look at became ugly and suspicious. There is nothing in me. I am empty bottle that used to be filled with rich taste, summer breeze and laughter around fire place.
Sometimes i hate going out because i lack my identity. I am undiscribable, but not because i am everything..because i feel nothing.
One day i walked in to the woods. Wind was breezing but i could feel, that spring is coming. I saw glitter on the ground. It was there propobly from new years eve. That night it was fun for you. You threw them up in the air and wished luck to friends standing close to you. You drank champagne and looked in to the ayes of others. “This! This well be the year of my life.” You thought: “I will fulfill my dreams”. You again threw glitter in the air. Like blossom from apple trees in spring winds it was falling all over you. Then you ran to the car and with your friends you went either home to eat and drink a lot and sing some songs or to the club where you danced your feet off.
That day, when i was there.. those colorful sparkling glitters where dropped down in muddy ground. I steped on them.Close by there were some empty trash cans and beer bottles. I thought – this describes my generation so well. We sparcle in shit and everyone is just going over us.
Sometimes i feel there is someone else trying to occupy my body and soul. What if that someone is small girl who lived in the times of war and her passion was music. And because of her i have to listen to old tracks. What if old souls are playng games with us? From up there they are using as like we used to use toys for playing when we were children.
What if we are dreams of someone else?
What if we are souls of war children?
Hey Nineties kid
are you depressed?
Maybe more or less
Are you depressed?
What if we are no-one.
And it is just me fighting with myself.