5. ledna 2016

A present

I come to school, tired already, even though it has been only two hours since I got up from bed and decided to go on for one another day.
I come to school and I see people I've known for ages, for eight years, for almost half of my life, I see people smiling and hear people saying Hello.
I come to school and there you are, my best friend - at least for the others. I love you and I hate you, I envy you and I disdain you - but that's not to be spoken about today.

I sit down and there you are with that apologetic face you have when you want to tell me something you presume to be a big deal for me.
There you are and you tell me he will be sending something to me. There you are and you tell me to emotionally prepare for that.
There you are - surprised when I say I know.

You leave and I realize I am smiling. I realize I am looking forward to Friday. I realize I will read the comic book the same evening. I realize this smile will never leave my soul.


26. prosince 2015

Mlha

"Právě jsem v mlze o hustotě asi tak tvarohu odřídila svých druhých deset kilometrů v otcově autě. Táta je jako spolujezdec-učitel hrozně boží a klidnej.
Ale já se asi poseru, jak mi dobíhá ta strašná nervozita a strach. Potřebuju kakao a zalízt si do postele. A obejmout. A nechvalte mě, jak jsem to hezky zvládla. I když na to, že bylo vidět tak na patnáct metrů asi dobrý - ze silnice jsem sjela jenom dvakrát a pokaždý to bylo do autobusový zastávky nebo parkoviště.

Kurva, je mi špatně. Potřebuju cigáro. A panáka.

Fůůů."
 
Výše uvedené jsem napsala těsně po tom, co jsem vylezla z auta. Pořád na tom nejsem moc dobře, ale je to lepší. Dostala jsem od mámy kakao a s mou lepší polovicí jsme se shodli na ingrediencích bramborového salátu. Takže je to lepší. 

25. prosince 2015

Když máte hlavu suchou dřív než hrudník

Mám krátký vlasy. Mám je už tak tři dny, ale ještě jsem si nezvykla. Zahlédnout se v zrcadle je najednou hrozně příjemné. Líbím se sama sobě. Líbím se sama sobě. Líbím se sama sobě. Líbím se sama sobě.

Právě jsem si dala sprchu v hrozně malý vaně. Nesnáším, když kolem sebe při sprchování nemám prostor ohraničený plentou, abych nezmáčela celou koupelnu, a zároveň je pro mě strašně nepohodlné se sprchovat v sedě nebo v kleče.

Ale pak jsem z té vany vylezla a začala si sušit vlasy ručníkem. Takovým tím způsobem, o kterém se všude dočtete, že je hrozně špatný. A měla jsem z toho dětskou radost, jak jsem cítila, že ty nejkratší vlasy na temeni jsou už suché, i když ty dlouhé mi teď máčejí šíji.

Nechala jsem si vlasy zkrátit po roce a půl. O čtyřicet čísel. A mám z toho radost.

New accounts don't help

I spent today creating a new account on tumblr. First because I found out that in my browser there is a folder named Stuff and it's full of adult-oriented tumblr pages and I wanted to have it all at one place. And then, after few hours of watching porn pictures ang gifs, after three orgasms, after a dinner in total silece (okay, with some TV sound behing my ears because you can't do anything else at my grandma's) I created another blog which was supposed to be my secret diary. A secret diary of a girl who tells anything you ask her.

Absurd, ain't it?

I wrote few things at that virtual place and then I just realized... It didn't help. It was supposed to be an escape so that I didn't have to discuss stuff I am currently thinking about with my boyfriend and other people who know me and know this blog exists. But I hate the tumblr text editor and I decided not to be a coward.

Zatraceně, jsem přece holka, co vám odpoví na cokoliv, na co se jí zeptáte. Nebudu utíkat z našeho prostoru jen proto, že některé věci se hrozně těžko vyslovují před lidmi, kteří vás znají a budou se vás ptát.



Hashtag: I'm never gonna be a good poet.

Click. I know that alley. Click. I kill the memory of that T-shirt. Click.
This is an old photograph.


I just got so, so touched by this. No idea whether he really experienced the thing. Probably he had... However, these are the moments when I just don't want to be a good poet, if this is the price. If pain and fear and killing my own memories is the price of being able to write something that will touch others in the deepest parts of their souls. Click.

Neublížit.


Nechtěla, nechtěla ublížit
nechtěla zranit ho, zabodnout rytíři
dýku mezi kroužky - ty prstýnky války...

Malá holka, nevěděla, co dělá...
Oddala se mu... Oddala se mu celá...
A on jí propadl a ztratil se v jejím srdci
a ona teď pláče nad hřbitovními věnci. 

13. prosince 2015

Those girls...

Do you know those girls that keep losing and forgetting stuff? The short, clumsy, absent-minded girls covered with bruises because they are constantly hurting themselves by running into walls, tables and other stuff?

Yeah, I know you know at least one of these. I know some too. And I kinda hate them.

I always thought I was a strong, independent, competent and confident woman. I thought I could make anything. I don't get lost in foreign cities. I don't lose my keys, phone or anything else. I am a master of time management. I am good at improvisation if I somehow manage to forget something home. I am well educated, I know many things from many different areas of human knowledge, I see connections between stuff, I speak several languages fluently. I can talk almost to anybody, I am very tolerant and open-minded and I care about others. I can party, I love people, I am a good companion.

And I am full of insecurity about myself. I have no idea if people see this, when they see me. I have no idea if the up written stuff is even true, because it's how I see myself.
And I hate it when I get clumsy or lost or absent-minded. Because that's not me, is it?

For couple of last weeks I just wish I could be one of the short girls that need other's help and are used to the fact they need it.
Because I was always tall enough to pass the cup from the highest part of the cupboard myself. And I have no idea how to live with the new me that obviously needs help with stuff.