Tabula Rasa

Night, I hear the calling again, how long can I ignore it? maybe this will be the last time I burn. A constant battle inside me between my brain, heart and my soul. Locked in this small cage they all want to get away forever. The silence whispers its song while the moon cries with rain, the stars stare in eerie silence. What can I do take away the pain that leaves a stain on the mane of my confidence. Night, I want to write but the secrets suffocate my heart, night, rhythmic breathing invites me to a dance with instruments of hell which I want to extinguish. Shadows dance around the room when the clock strikes midnight, desire begs for help while guilt inflicts constant wounds.

Grasping for resolve I will paint a picture without a brush. Stating I don’t want a world without feelings, with personal opinions being choked down before they are born and songs of rebellion drowned in a glass of bitterness and disappointment. Nor I want to feel like young Werther ever again or this will be my end.

Staring in the mirror, behind the glass I see myself move independently of my actions studying my image. With a tight fist I break the walls of our anguish and reach out to pull the other me into this world. We hug like long separated twins and sit down in a dark room talking without words. Painting our nightmares on the canvas of fear then setting fire to it providing a glow of courage. Asking the night to cloak us in its darkness from the eyes of the moon we will waltz around the shield of a clock. Running through sands of time to get away from the crawling morning we will cheat time when we hide under a number. There we will fall in a slumber, filling our hollows, taking the broken parts and connect them into one. We will no longer be damaged, combining every cell until all is well.

With pain subsiding I come out of hiding and let the time catch me bringing me to the present, I no longer resent this world that I hold. Finally I am whole and the prolonged session of slow depression is gone allowing me to feel like I won.

It is nice to write again, it has been a long time. I was away due to work, laziness, holidays abroad. And I had that extra job as Hells personal trainer exe(o) rcising my demons. But that’s over and I have a new outlook on life.

Waiting for the right time to do something means you will probably never do it.

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Express 95

It was beginning of the year 1995 when this particular train arrived at the platform. Knowing I don’t have another choice I crawled inside the wagon and it instantly moved off. The first few years of the journey passed me in a blink of an eye, astonished by the speed I began to worry the ride will end soon but the train prevailed through all.

Once I learned how to walk I was able to look out the window and see the world for the first time. Frightened be the size of it I just stared and soaked in all that I could. When I comprehended the language, that’s when I met the driver of this strange machine. He told me that now we are able to make stops, and while the train stops I am to leave and make memories before we go any further.

And so I did, equipped with a camera, notepad and voice recorder I left the train each time it stopped. Trying to remember as much as my little mind could, I made pictures of my parent’s faces and recorded their laughter, made my first sketches of the land and learned how to write. At the end of each day or sometimes just a moment, I boarded the train again, storing all the memories away in the next carriage.

The driver talked to me again, he said the memories are what fuels the machine and it is what will allow me to grow, therefore for the indefinite amount of time this train will run I should make as many as I can. I was stopping more and more often since, remembering faces, voices, songs, images, smells and feelings. Making a note of them all I gathered them all, first candy first bike first fish caught. First laugh, first tear and first scream all recorded in some shape or form sitting in the rear wagon.

Fleeting moments caught in time filled the wagons, not all were happy, nobody is ever truly happy there were also first fights and first bruises, first streaks of blood and a collection of scars I can’t store away, only carry them.

This Express 95 keeps rolling through life, through the sun and rain and through the snow and pain. People board it to sit with me for a moment and then leave. Seeing places pass by and not a single one is the same even when returned to. After a decade I left the mainland looping tracks few times on an island. Two decades later the rain still goes strong on the uneven surface, we make less stops now but each more significant, each new memory will fuel the train for years to come.

After 23 years we are moving forward gaining speed and adding other carriages. The newest wagon, it is always engulfed by a semi-shadow, in there I will take some of my old memories and repaint them with my new thousand words.

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Slowly getting back to writing here, I have a lot of ideas for new posts it is just the matter of finding time without distractions to write them.

Stars in your eyes.

Sadly I admit we have lost the exact count of stars and seasons we passed.

I haven’t believed in love from the first sight, but then you came out and something strange happened.

I looked into your heterochromatic eyes and I saw the whole universe in your pupil, It was so beautiful.

By far the clearest feeling I had, but so confusing too, my heart and time stopped, eternity trapped in the single second.

As if everything that could be known was a single lesson,  I’m guessing words is not an adequate set of tools to explain it.

Our bodies disappeared and there was no rules, every moment, star formed and explosion was contained in the iris of this girl standing before me.

And at that moment we both became gods because from an eye to eye we created our world.

Next, we built our boat and set sail through the stormy oceans standing firm, even when the water got the best of us and we fell in the other one waited until we are both back in.

Roaming for years we lost hope of safe land after we saw the angels fall from the skies, but you just took their broken wings and thought me how to fly.

Yet I regret you can’t see that every time you sing, your voice heals my broken soul.

But, now I know for certain it doesn’t matter if I’m on the ground, in the water or air, You will always be there.

Paulina

No matter what I do in life I’m only half there when you’re not.

Light in our hearts

You are my lighthouse in the storm. You make sure there is always enough light in our life, when the dark clouds come you swiftly dispel them with one move. When I fall you reach out your hand , when I fall into a deep hole you are there with a rope to climb. You are like the heroes of light.

You nurtured me from the moment of creation , you thought me all the important values in life so I can be a man nobody needs to be ashamed of and I do what I can to make you proud even though it doesn’t always work out but nobody is perfect and I know you understand that. Raising us wasn’t easy I see that now, but back then you did your best we didn’t notice and it worked. You thought me that a heart of gold can illuminate any darkness I come upon. So for years I wandered dirty rivers and undergrounds hammering away like Andy Dufresne looking for pieces of gold, to create the armour of gold for my heart. Finding piece by piece with every experience in life, many pieces were found with your help some given by you for free out of good will and care. Right now I feel I’m very close to completion and hopefully I will be able to bring light into life of others as you do to mine. I was lucky enough that when I was looking for gold I found a really precious gem along the way and plan to keep it for the rest of my life. And I have to thank you for accepting her as your and caring for her too.

I know I can always count on you in every situation, even when I moved away you chase after me to make sure we are doing well. Appearing out of nowhere with a helping hand when our foot slips. For this I am eternally grateful and willing to the sane for you when it’s needed.

One thing that I regret is that I wasn’t a better son but that’s for you to judge. What hurts me more that I so rarely tell you that I love you, I don’t know why I don’t say it but it doesn’t mean that I don’t love you. Not once tears fell listening to Dżem’s – List do m. in the middle of the night. Wondering why I don’t tell you I love you every day when my emotions for you flow like Niagara but I just don’t show it as I would like to. And every time I hear this song tears come to my eyes because I can literally relate to it more than I would like to admit.

Please never question your actions as a parent because you haven’t made a bad choice so far, and not Superman nor Batman can compare to you because your love is stronger than their powers combined.

Dad, I know you often worry about me because I’m sad and my blog doesn’t help me disprove it but trust me I’m OK and if (hopefully not) something would get worse I will let you know.

I also know this isn’t the place you should be reading it , it should be a ink soaked letter in your hands but I write here because I am proud of you and wish others could take example from you. I want to take liberty of speaking for my brother also when I say Mom, Dad we love you and thank you.

Try to imagine

Try to imagine, not all of you will I know that. The idea is for you to find out how some of your acquaintances feel like.

You live your daily life every day looks like the one before and the next with occasional changes. This day was one of them, you went out for a walk across your town, watching people living their careless lives. Then in the crowd you see it, that inhuman creature. Walking around people looking for its prey, for some reason everyone is blind to it but you can see it and that thought alone scares you. Your heart pounds and your eyes meet and you can feel its gaze pierce your soul from afar, you feel like breaking down on the spot but you manage to keep a poker face and turn back to your home with the hope it didn’t see you or at least didn’t realize you can see it.

You return home and lock all the doors to feel more secure, turn on the heating and put the kettle on to make this empty house feel like home. With your favourite brew, you take up your usual activities that take your mind off of what you saw today. Then the evening comes and you hear strange noises outside and all comes back to you. Your pulse rises when you hear your neighbor’s dog bark wildly and is silenced suddenly, you rush to double-check the doors are locked and go upstairs to your bedroom and close the door as well. You listen out for the strange noise you heard outside but there is nothing instead you hear someone trying the door handle downstairs, could it be a friend? A moment later you hear someone trying to open the back door. Your heart jumps to your throat, could this thing find you in your home? You sit still on the bed praying it will go away, and then your heart drops from your throat to the bottom of the stomach when you hear the floorboards creek downstairs and you remember you opened a window earlier because it got too hot from the heating.

Your panic level raises with every step that makes noise under heavy footing, you try to be still and silent hoping it will not enter our room but it gets harder when the scratching on the wall nears your bedroom door. You start to think about everything you did in your life wondering if you made the right decisions so far but when you see the door handle being pressed down you start to lose it. Your eyes are flooded with tears that fall on your shaking hands, the door opens slowly and you know there is no escape. At this point you stopped caring if you live or die all that’s left is to wait for what happens next.

The door opens fully and you sob harder, it’s all clear now, it has found you and you know you will be tortured relentlessly. It’s all clear this creature is Loneliness.

This is my vision of long-term loneliness, I hope it will give you an idea how some people feel because you will not see it at first glance because it all happens behind close doors. And even though you offer a simple solution of finding friends and being active often monotony and shyness will keep that person in shackles like ball and chain. So reach out first to someone from your friend list because they might be too shy do it themselves and you just could make a big difference in their lives.

Can you call yourself a good parent?

This post will be for all the parents and anyone who can solve this mystery with a different solution than murder or psychiatric ward. Everything below is unfortunately real events and facts from our lives.

Let’s start with the basic information, the key focus is on my girlfriend and her family, a family of her of course 2 parents Paulina and a younger brother. At first glance everything seems fine and they will make sure it does just look like it but that’s just a front. By them I mean the parents and son. Paulina lives with me for several years and of course they are not happy with it. There are two main problems with this family, they treat their kids completely opposite no exaggeration and their mother hates me for no reason (yeah love you too mother-in-law). The thing is I can’t understand their actions there is no rational reason for them.

It was like that from a young age. Little brother gets hurt by someone Paulina is to blame for not being there. She needs to work hard for something he can just sit around. One example were their first tattoos. Paulina wanted a tattoo she found, after a lot of asking for it she came to an agreement if she gets good grades at the end of the year she will have it, so she worked real hard to and it payed of, sort of, she wasn’t allowed the one she wanted so she got the next best thing which was a lot smaller tattoo of a cat. Then comes up a little brother who wasn’t supposed to have a tattoo due to age and not doing any work for it but he just says he wants it and guess what he has a huge scorpion on his back.

When I first met them everything was fine their parents were nice to me even though it was fake I didn’t mind. Then I started dating Paulina and things were rolling down the hill and still do. It started with constantly earlier scheduled returns home and other minor things, after a year her mother just like that started hating me and every time she saw me she looked like Trump in Mexico. Her explanation? I have blond hair and she once knew a guy like that and she didn’t like him. Totally understandable right? 😉 There were few more similar reason that weren’t worth my time her main point was that I am not the right partner for her because I was young and she would rather she would find a rich Irish guy or two with a house and a good job so she won’t have to work. Mother of the year advice.

Of course that didn’t stop us like Romeo and Juliet we continued to meet even though she was “forbidden” to see me and anywhere she went she was accused of going to see me for which she was unfairly punished in forms of foul name calling occasional slaps and grounding. Unfortunately we lived on the same street so if I wanted to go anywhere I had to walk past their house and every time I was seen by her mother, Paulina was immediately called home, no mater where she was and still had to take shit from her parents even though there was no intention to meet me.

After harsh another 2 years she finished school and decided she won’t take it anymore and will move out but for the first timer it’s not easy to find a job or a room, so she looked and looked while in the meantime she was on social welfare getting next to nothing but that didn’t stop her parents from deciding that she has to pay rent, bills, and cook for herself if she had anything left. after a while she found a room to rent a and a job, 2 in fact so without hesitation she was gone and free. 2 jobs turned into 3 and I couldn’t allow it. The same week I finished school I moved in with her got a job to help her out and my family supported us too but not hers. Back to unfair treatment, her brother finished school and he didn’t have to pay anything at all and still doesn’t. I’m not talking bad about him, he just exploits the situation of course he helps them out sometimes but the point is none of the rules Paulina had to obey were placed on him and if that’s not enough he just had to ask for things to get them.

I have not seen her parents for years about 6, her mother avoids me like im some incarnation of Satan or carrier of Ebola. For years I drove Paulina 100km one way so she could see her family after they moved out but I wasn’t allowed into the house so had to go straight back. They never visited us at least when I was home. This year we were forced to move out so we decided on their home town with hope things will improve with time but now that hope is almost gone. We live here 5 months and they haven’t moved their lazy asses to an estate beside them to visit for a coffee or see just how are we doing while my own parents drive 100km almost every second week to see us. I guess I should make it clear that I don’t see them, Paulina visits them almost every week but always comes back a lot sadder as they stopped treating her as a daughter but more just like a guest paying more attention to everyone else but her and yet they call her daughter. Put actions behind the words you use.

Another example of their treatment? Paulina’s brother found a girl recently. Treating her like a real daughter should be support their relationship and allowed to move in with them they help her to find a job by sending offers while Paulina is always looked down upon for not being any different and constantly complained about even when she does exact same things that her brother or his girl do. They don’t even call her to find out how is she doing. Paulina call them only (I saw the call registers over years) and they complain that she never contacts them while it’s them that don’t put in any fucking effort.

I post it reluctantly with fear that after they see this it will blow into a bigger shit than it is. Then again deep inside I hope they will read it and finally get some fucking sense in their heads and understand that they are the sole cause of their daughters countless tears and sleepless nights over the years all the days she was sad not wanting to live anymore driving her to depression, that they will understand that they are destroying this wonderful girl like cancer from the inside. And I hope they will feel shame for years to come and most of all I want them to know that I look past their way of treating me, and that KARMA exists and she will fucking coming and I hope that then you will cry every night like she does.

 

And you? Can you call yourself a good parent? If you are anything like the ones above be sure your kids will never forget.

God is a c**t

Most of us believe in god but I think we should find something better to believe in. I mean do you know a bigger asshole? Even my mother in law is nicer than him/it.

“But he is almighty he created earth” – bullshit

If he is out there he is cruel and selfish you know that. He can’t care about people, otherwise world wouldn’t look like it does.

Some of you probably think I shouldn’t be saying it, that i should be thankful for my life. I am thankful, I thank my mother for my life and I thank my father for the quality of it and all the joys I can experience. I don’t thank god for that , do you think he just sits there and decides that you are going to be poor and suffer all your life while you will be filthy rich and have everything. Doesn’t that seem kind and loving of him.

We all had that moment when we doubted or hated god at some point, for example my grandfather died in a way no man deserves to. And to this day it makes my blood boil as well as puts a tear in my eye. Of course he doesn’t give a shit about it.

He is nothing like people portray him to be. If he was than he would do something good, wouldn’t let child molesters to be priests , he wouldn’t let churches and religion to become the most profitable organisations. I don’t need to mention wars and poverty. Maybe I’ll put it differently, did you know that documented number of people killed in the name of religion in estimate of course is 195,035,000 deaths. And for what? For a being which doesn’t care who you are? After all we killed his son.

I’ll cut short not to bore you.

I’m not saying that everything is a lie that there is no heaven etc. I know that angels walk on the earth, I was born from one and plan to marry another one.

End point being that god is a cunt or dead, no difference. And god, if I’ll go to hell for blasphemy I will make some pact and stomp your face in.

Or maybe someone already did 😉