Hand in hand

In the dark two of us meet. Our relationship is not defined but we stand both in the darkness. We are both at the same time kids and grown ups. We are in our outfits for special occasions and I have make up on but we’re sweating. Your hair is a bit messy which is not specific for you, your shirt is unbuttoned and tucked in the black pants, sleeves are rolled up to your elbows and your dark eyes give you the determination you need. My blonde perfect hairstyle is not so perfect anymore but it’s till standin, and my dress is turning to overalls so I could run.  Our palms are sloppy but we clench fists. I step forward, you step forward and then our gazes meet. We are strong but scared. We are wrong but right. At the end of the tunnel there is a party we should go to. And I feel like we ran from something dangerous and both of us needs a strong partner. But I need help with that feather. You nod and I gulp. Your eyes shift to the light and I turn towards it as well. I know I should be cautious about you but I also like what you give to me. Yes, we complete each other. And I serve forever for some things I was wrong about, and you already have a chain around your neck.  But we want to break it, we want to rip our nice sweaty clothes and make a warrior’s uniform. We want to break free and forget about everything. We want to create and travel. To be free and innocent. I want to see the stars with my own eyes in the desert again, and you said that you will take me there. I want to trust you but you are a fox and you think that I’m a cat doing things like a tiger. I want to be a princess even though I can stand side by side with you. Do you have that wide of a perception? I will let you be whatever you want to become, I will build you. But I need help. We should run towards the light and then, side by side, slowly taking each others hands while tightening the grip. But please, I want both of us always to have their own lamp in other hand.

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Loneliness, fear and myself

This is an essay which I wrote for a friend’s homework, I hope you’ll like it:)
I haven’t written in a long time, and I decided that I have to post something, even if it’s only a few sentences. It’s so strange reading your own old posts!

Loneliness. Fear grows fastest while you’re alone. Raindrops are pounding the windows harder and harder. The Sun hasn’t risen today at all, only the light-gray clouds which were suffocating the day and which never gave the Sun to rise have appeared. I am alone. If I accept these raindrops as my friends, what else have I to fear of except them alone? Maybe just the loneliness and the uknown in the emptiness. Loneliness and I are sitting and listening to the raindrops and the wind which is pushing them agressively onto my window. I am afraid they might come in. Fear is starting to scratch the door of my room. What are we exactly afraid of when we are left alone? The thin dark hand, demonic eyes and death coming with a scream or maybe even the silent spider walking on our back? And why aren’t we afraid of it when we have a company? Because we are afraid of the Loneliness itself, but we do not want to admit that. The time we spend on our own wakes up inside of us the fear of the unknown, more precisely, the fear of ourselves. And that means that we actually do not want to know who we are, and to get to know ourselves. The wind is starting to shake the windows, I am standing still, anticipating the following – windows are suddenly opened, the raindrops under it’s strenghth are falling on my face and clothes and they are getting wet. I am now alone and soaked. Raindrops are not my friends anymore. Now I know that I am wet, and my biggest fear has come true, I see my own self.

Spies

The moment when your entire world comes storming down to you with the toughest and the hardest questions to give the right and full answer to, you just bent down a bit, unconsciously, and your face slightly drops and in your eyes you start carrying the burden formed with heavy look or tears trying to release it, but fail to. Just when you thought you are over that, over those questions, when you moved forward into other direction, when you started concentrating on yourself and not on the world, people and life never-ending philosophies, which endure only in the minds of the hurt and the disappointed adults, something triggers The Ring and it suddenly appears around your neck, so you are obligated to destroy it in the fires of Mordor.

It’s a foggy, cold, and a bit windy night, with the sharpness of coldness in the air which cuts your skin, razes your muscles and shakes your bones, luckily, it’s not so strong tonight, so you can take a walk. We were walking in silence, under the impression of the happenings that took place a few minutes ago. In my opinion, they are so unimportant and irrelevant, those things happen all the time, they come and go and it is not something you should waste your energy on. Save every piece of peace and happiness you are given, don’t bother and make problems up, it’s useless. Anyway, we started walking one of my favorite streets of the city, which I discovered by myself in a casual walk last spring while I was looking for sister’s hairdresser. It was a first quite hot day in the spring and I was wearing only black shirt, jeans and shoes on after such a long time. When I was younger I had not understood the street and it’s location, it was always so different and it appeared as in a magic trick. It seemed like it was always in a different location, leading you to various spots whilst I could never find it on my own. I remember once, we were in the visit at cousins’, and we passed the street, getting somewhere were we intended to. I still wouldn’t know how to explain the position where I had found myself back then but I could find it by my intuition.

Trust. The thing we all want, we all say that we appreciate, that we value it a lot, and that we have a hard time trusting someone. We could present it as a priceless gold mine everyone gives to one another, but tend to lose it very easily. Trust is a very big component of love, sometimes I tend to identify love with trust. When you trust someone, you can say anything and know that it will be kept as if you buried it at the bottom of the ocean, you can behave as you wish, without thinking or refrain, you are completely free to be yourself. You don’t feel stupid if you have chocolate on your nose, your shirt is stained or if you don’t have money. Because you know that the person won’t judge you, won’t try to put you down. On the contrary, he or she will join you in your silliness, help you to whip the chocolate or stain, friendly tease you and loan you money without the word. Trust is when you know that someone will be there for you in every moment of the day or the night, no matter with who, and no matter how much time you need. But before everything, trust is when you know that someone will treasure you and keep you, your secretes and all your little things, inside, without sharing it, but saving it, in their hearts. Trust is when you  know that someone will make all the spies disappear, and all the voices go away, when the men in the white coats come, to be there for you and to chase down the walls around you. Trust is when you know and when you feel that you gave your heart to the person and he or she took it with as much of gentleness and care, as you had when you gave it to them. When your heart is failed down by only one person, you start doubting everyone, but eventually you get back on the old track. But if your trust has been turned down enough number of times you will start doubting everyone and everything. Because if someone decides to fail such a thing, how can that person love you, have any kind of gentle feelings towards you and at the end, any good intentions? Trust is like the water on Earth, when the Earth represents love. Without water there would be no life and Earth wouldn’t be Earth, it is the thing that stands our planet out of the other ones. I am the Idealist, the one who as he faces the world he sees the cruelty, dishonesty, duplicity in most delicate things as love. Fake moralists are everywhere, they all love but no one knows what love is. They are all so lost in their own visions and perfect stories while they don’t see that there is nothing honest and trustworthy in any of the things they say. Trust is a long-lost things, just as the love is. The Ideal things do not exist. The biggest and the most honest and true loves are born out of trust which is bringing the knowledge of the person with itself. Will I be able to trust anyone ever again? Is a question I asked myself as I looked through an old and dusty window on the ground floor of an old building, hiding the complete, thickest darkness which no one dared to disturb for who knows how long. Can I trust myself? Was a question I asked but I realised that it is not legit, because in what way can I or can I not trust myself? Can I trust myself to do what? It is completely irrelevant, or is it? It is a question I heard great number of times and I have never led myself into thinking about that matter. I will not question such a thing because there is no need to, I trust myself completely.

So we remained silent, talking on occasions. I can’t tell you the things that are going through my head, at the end, it’s still pointless to say them. Maybe the time will come, maybe not, but I would like it to come.

”I see the weight of your world in your eyes” was the sentences that broke me. Why did I even break in the first place into such thinking, and at the end why did I break down? So you hugged me and I hugged you back and in those moments at first I only cried but later my thoughts started going with such a speed that I wasn’t aware of the reality for some time. I hate the speed they can have sometimes, and the reason is-I’m not present in the moment. In the whirlpool of my thoughts the ones that stood out where ”they are everywhere… the spies”. I don’t know who or what the spies could be, but they are probably questions, doubts and disappointments.

But the spies came out of the water
But you’re feeling so bad cos you know
But the spies hide out in every corner,
But you can’t touch them no
Cause they’re all spies they’re all spies

….

They can’t touch you no
Cos they’re just spies

The bold text was something that kept going through my head later.

The thing that probably hurts me the most is that no one is, or doesn’t want to take in, to show, that they don’t know what trust or love means, but they go around and fling with it.

And if we don’t hide here
They’re going to find us

Is my absolute favorite part of the song

The person who has your trust is someone who should be always for you, who is no matter with who, where or when will pick up the phone, get his or her coat and be there, not just in their comfortable zone. That is very hard, the thing is, don’t tell things you don’t mean, or you can’t do.

I stepped out of the trolley. Up there, in front of the museum, the yellow lights and the fog seemed to make quite a party! You could go there and be present, but you could never be a part of it and join the dancing.

Thinking Out Loud

According to Allan Watts and Maya Angelou we are all the same, we all come from the same source and that is the big bang, which every and each one of us has in him/herself. We all carry a part of rivers, stars, trees, and each other in ourselves. If a man dreams a big dream we have a part of it in us as well and we can do it, but the same stands if someone commits a crime. Maya says that we should not be afraid of anything that’s human, because it is us. But on the other hand we all judge others and their acts, we are all setting up standards, following some rules etc. We judge LGBT population and their acts, while the only thing they’re doing different from the rest is kiss a person of the same-sex. Is that so horrifying? I wouldn’t say so. We are only part of the energy, we are all one. There is no matter. The thing we call matter is only a special moment and state in which energy is showing. And we still have so many things in out head going around.

E.g. lately I have been thinking about love as many of my friends  are in those waters right now. I don’t know where am I. Maybe I am standing on a tiny rock in the middle of the river, but that’s just a wild guess. Anyhow, I have always thought that you can’t meet your other half, someone who is your soul mate, who you will marry, at early age. I have always thought that it will be in my twenties or so. Also, I have never thought that when I marry once that I will never divorce, it depends, but it has always been so weird to me to spend your whole life with just one person. Just imagine, you are sitting at your living room one night, watching TV and you should start getting dressed up for a visit to your friends. You have, let’s say, a ten-year old kid, and you look at the person sitting across of you, you look at your living room and don’t you just think ”this is so boring. There is no change, no excitement, for so long everything is the same”. Is it possible to love a person for 50 years, to feel the same as you were in your twenties? fifty years? To feel the same as you felt in your twenties? But again, how can a love simply vanish when you love someone? When you truly love the person? Not just the looks or the things he or she has? Not so many people know what the true love is. It’s not just a crush or heart racing when you see someone, it’s not just liking someone because he or she is nice and interesting. Sometimes true love, I think, can lack a few of the said things. True love is when you don’t mind if your hair is a mess and when the other person doesn’t see it as a disaster and imperfection but as a characteristic of yours. True love means that you don’t really care much if your lipstick is half a way removed or if you have chocolate around your mouth when you just ate it, yogurt on your nose when you just drank it from the cup which is sold in the bakeries. True love is when you forget about those things, when the person you’re with doesn’t mind, but loves those things about you whilst not thinking how idiotic you are. You know you love someone when you give your money when you don’t have it anymore, just so the person wouldn’t wake his or her parents and you won’t ask for it back. It’s when you leave your jacket and don’t mind if you don’t get it back for a month or so, when someone doesn’t judge you for your socks with a whole but laughs and says ”Don’t worry, I have plenty of those”. Real love is when you look at the person and think of so many things that he or she loves, does, is, all the nice things that you could do for him or her. It’s when you just need the presence of the person to feel calm, happy, complete, when you can cry, laugh or talk random things without holding back. It’s when you know that you want to be with him or her eventually. It’s when you try to keep the distance but you fail because it’s a torture, because it feels empty and cold. True love is when you’re happy when the person is happy even if you don’t agree with a choice that has been made. You know you love someone when you chose to hug the person before everyone else in hard and in bad times, when he or she is your priority.
Once my friend said that the love of your life is surely somewhere out there but the question is if you’re lucky enough to meet him/her at the right time at your life. I would disagree before but now I am questioning my conviction. Maybe there really is someone out there for us? Now there is a theory my language teacher once said and that is that there is someone made for us but it can never be realised, because of the society in most cases. Many of us would like to think that there is a person who is made just for us and I believe that there are cases of real love here and there and those people are made to be an example of real love, that is their task and purpose. I still doubt that there is one and only one person who is made for us and with whom we can achieve the real love, but I am not saying that my opinion can not be changed.
One of my friends said that we maybe can’t know who that person might be, or that we might not be aware of it, and that we should question our expectations and wishes. Now that is maybe possible if you are at some transitioning period in your life and you are changing your point of view, orientations etc. We all have a certain ideal of how our perfect love should look like, we all have a list, dreams, but if there really is our true love we would recognise it when we get to know the person, even if it’s a complete opposite of what we had in mind. We should open our minds and hearts, listen to the wind and silent whispers more, we should be at peace more.
I haven’t expected any kind of big love stories at my early age and I don’t think that we should be bound much at this age.. I also usually mentally puke when I hear the ”highschool sweethearts” phrase. You are with only one person your whole life and there is only two case scenarios which can happen. First of it is to be with that person your whole life just because you don’t know for any better and you are scared, and the other one is when the middle age crisis comes you are going to hook up with a college from the work at a business trip.

Elastic Heart

He entered the house and was expecting to see her waiting for him. His perfect little Anna. Her white, pale face, soft skin and big brown-greenish orbs with long lashes and full lips which always smile to him. A packet of white teeth showing behind the smile. He loves her with her brown long hair and long fingers with always perfect done nails. They both worked a lot and it wasn’t like before, but they love each other don’t they? Does he know what she’s thinking like before and vice versa? Maybe that’s the key problem.

He entered the house and right behind the corner in the hall way she was standing at the door at the end of it. She was leaning on the door with her hands crossed and a soft smile on her face. He smiled back as always. She would usually grin back afterwards but not so often lately, not this time. He took her face in his hands and rubbed her cheek with his thumb. She was smiling but not looking at him anymore. He sensed the mark beneath the foundation
“What happened?”
“What do you mean? Nothing”
“Who was here?”
“No one”
“Tell me what happened!”
“Nothing!”
“Who was here?!”
The first thought that ran through her head was “you” but she remained silent.
“Oh God, why are you dong this?”
Minutes ago she was pouring more drink in her glass, thinking about him, she wasn’t sure was she drunk or not, what made her drunk so much, was she angry, insane. They both just needed a break, the time to go back, to take a trip somewhere far away, to look into each other’s eyes. They still loved each other, if they didn’t they wouldn’t be in this situation right now. So she was pouring drink after drink, smashing a glass at the floor at the end, falling down in tears. Their dark-purple sheets, big bed, perfect view, everything she, they, have ever dreamed of surrounded her. She picked it up and covered a scar that glass has made. Everything seemed perfect.
He went to the kitchen
“It seems that another glass has been broken, like we had more of these” he said and turned to her. She put her hands at her back-pockets and started walking
“Probably, maybe it’s the housekeeper”
“She wasn’t here today”
“Maybe before..”
“What is happening? Why are you doing this to yourself? I can’t stand looking at you like this!”
“Well then don’t look at me” it hurt so bad to say this but what else was she left with? They were only hurting each other.
She came into the kitchen which was connected with the living room with only bar separating it. She poured more
“Stop it” he grabbed her hand while she only grinned.
“Don’t do this” he repeated while she took the glass and nonchalantly went to the living room.
“No more drink for you! Where is the rest?” He threw away the bottles he saw. She walked into the kitchen and pulled another one. He took it away and threw it as well
“Why are you doing this to me? To yourself? We said we wont ever drink and this is… what night in a row that you are drinking? I won’t let you get hooked on this shit” he pushed her away into the living room, his face inches away from hers, the window wall behind them was spilling one of the most beautiful city views, but like that mattered nothing to them. She just laughed a bit
“Are you drunk?” He asked her as she looked away and laughed through her nose. Was she drunk? Who knew that?She was numb and drunk all the time. If it wasn’t alcohol, it was him.
“I’ve got an elastic heart” she said. He knew very well what she meant by that. Her pace was slow, just like a cat. She had dark-blue jeans and a plaid shirt a bit unbuttoned, she took her necklace off. She walked barefoot and took the glass, proceeding to the bed were she sat. He climbed the bed as well and sat beside her
“You won’t ever drink again!” He took the glass and took the last sip of whiskey, throwing the glass at the wall, smashing and falling into million wet pieces. He took her by her head with one hand, pulling her hair a bit, their lips parted and wet from alcohol. Seconds passed before they smashed their whiskey lips together eager for each other, for the taste of their lips and alcohol on them. The kiss was passionate and heated, she put her hands in his hair, pulling it harder each second
“Is that clear?” He asked taking breath. She nodded her head
“If I ever see you drinking again I don’t know what I’m capable of doing” as he said the last sentence they both looked at each others eyes. He has dark, chocolate-brown eyes.
“I basically trust no one” she whispered
“Don’t you trust me?” He asked
“How can I?” She asked with worried eyes as tears escaped them
“But you are mine. Have I ever failed you?”
“Just don’t let me go, no matter what, don’t ever let me go. If I run, chase me, if I back you off, pull me closer. Reassure me and tell me that I am not right, I beg of you”
He kissed her, now with even more passion
“..never” he said through the kiss
“Let me go” she said
“Never”
He pulled her even closer
“Why are we doing this to ourselves?” She asked
He didn’t say anything, just deepened the kiss
“I love you” she said
“I love you, more than anything”

Rainy Paris

Rainy afternoon in Paris, the smell of coffee and croissants and smooth jazz were occupying Anna’s senses. She is having her afternoon coffee as always in a nearby cafe. Newspapers are at her table and a little white dog named Kiwi is silent and yet full of energy, going around the table, finally settling itself on a chair beside it’s owner. It’s an early autumn and the cafe on the corner where a tree is standing wide and tall with its massive and strong branches and dark-green, and now wet from the rain, leaves, is filled with dark brown chairs and tables alike. The floor is in black and white diamonds and the wall is at the lower part wooden and white, above is plastered beige tapestry with slim and little orange and brown flowers. It looks quite vintage if I may add, and the pictures of many iconic musicians are hung up. Anna is sitting at the window, the entire wall is like a window. The rain started falling harder. Tables are set without any specific order around the cafe. In the middle of the window-wall the front door are standing tall, separating the left and the right part of it. The cafe is quite empty, there are only one or two occupied tables, besides the one where Anna’s sitting, in the darkness of it. Behind her, on the right wall the bar is set. From the bar deeper into the cafe the space is shrinking and the light coming from outside is much weaker. Anna has just eaten her cookie and is half way down with finishing her latte so she is taking the newspapers and is starting reading
“Kiwi, stand still please, steady! Good boy!” As she says that she gives him a treat and continues reading an article.
The little bell hung above the door has rung and a young and handsome man entered the cafe, looking quite confused. Anna looked up to see who entered the cafe on the tree-corner, even though she never does that. She would usually immediately look away but not this time. The young man stood his ground looking where would he like to sit the most, and when he glanced over Anna he couldn’t look away either. He started narrowing his eyes but kept coming back and looking at her, at the end he flashed a small and a very insecure smile and walked towards the counter to order his drink. Anna kept looking at him and smiled when he approached the bar. The man in shallow brown boots and jeans with a white short jacket and a black coat ordered machiato. His blonde hair coming to his chin and bangs tucked behind his left ear made him look like a young boy but his strong and tall features were telling that he is a young man in his mid twenties. When he took the coffee he again glanced over Anna with the same insecure half-smile and she returned with a sincere one. He then sat at a few tables away, across the counter and beside her, where the daylight still isn’t fading. He was listening to the jazz and the strong rain, his coat was quite wet and so was his hair, the big, dark umbrella didn’t help much, and he was looking at Anna reading the newspapers and the window. She would glance over him time to time just to find his eyes glued to her more frequently than to the street with the uncontrollable half smirk, while she would shyly smile every time, hiding a bit behind the papers, her eyes slowly shifting to the all so small letters on the way too big paper. They were both enjoying the sensation of the coffee, Paris and rain. They both didn’t notice how fast the time was passing. Anna called out for the waiter and gave him a tip. The boy and her gathered their things and got outside at the same time. They looked at each other again with small smirks and tried walking their ways but bumped into each other because they were blocking each other’s ways
“Sorry!”
“Oh I’m so sorry”
“I am going that way..”
“Yeah, I’m going that one…” they said and laughed a bit. They both walked their ways, she was going to the market and he who knows where. The rain hasn’t stopped or eased either.

Does a room changes when the light is off?

It was a passive day today, nothing much happened which is fine by me. On the second bus stop I exited the trolley and saw a familiar jacket on the other door. I knew who it was, it was a guy I absolutely love. I don’t love him in the crush-like manner, I just love that guy, a mysterious soul hiding behind the face of the biggest jokester. We acknowledged each other and with a nod showed out greetings to one another, I think non of us was up for a conversation. I was looking through the window at the city lights, bridge, racing cars and the other side of the river. I also looked at a boy, who had his headphones in, just like my friend and I did, and he was looking through the window again. I think he probably noticed that I was looking at him so I drifted my eyes and stick them to the road. Sometimes when I ride, and especially in the bus or trolley, I look at the road and the white lines on the fast passing cement. When I stepped out of the bus I decided to take a walk, it’s a nice autmn-ish evening, without wind or rain. Everything looked so captivating and it seemed like it was screaming ”paint me, photograph me, save me in your tiny mind forever”, so I took my phone out and took some pictures. I climbed up the hill and turned around just to be met with the rest of the city and it’s fuzzy blue and yellow lights. The night is clear and I kept on walking. As the music stopped I was hearing city noises and the sound of my boots was prevailing. I walked my small route and started my way home. I feel like I could walk miles and miles without stopping or saying a word.

When I entered the house it was all dark, all lights are off. I decided not to turn them on. I put my jacket into the closet and took a look at my door. A small stripe of light was coming from the outside, creeping into the darkness. I left my things and turned off the music once again. Does the room around changes when I turn off the lights? And if do, how so? What changes in it and what does it change? Questions were flooding my mind but I didn’t bother to consider answering them. I set in the darkness and silence in my living room. Only light that appeared were two little, blinking blue lamps on my laptop. I took it and started writing. The blinding light that came from my screen was illuminating a few things around me, I just might turn it off again and sit by the window to watch the colorful city lights and think about how millions of faiths are in such a small area, twisting and interlacing, missing and bumping into each other. And how every and each one of us sometimes, no matter how many time we spent near each other or together don’t know the other one’s story. Just like I don’t know my friend’s, and just like my friend and I, no matter how much I wanted ,won’t spend some time together or get closer, because we are not destined to be.

Heaven! Love! Freedom! Silly, such dreams!

We live in the world we used to cringe at the very thought of it. We live in the world which is everything except for what we convince ourselves it is. People in our lives can have ‘masks’ and so does this world, which is consisted of people with ‘masks’, have it’s own.

I believed, my friend, that the real love exists, that the freedom has the one who is capable of catching it, but as the time went by, and as I was growing up and got to know life, I realised that it is far away from the truth. I have thought of heaven sometimes, but not so often because why would youth think about death? But, I believed that it does exist and I do believe now, because what are we left do after we find out the truth and the cruelity of life, except to have faith and hope? I live with hope that it will get better, if not for the time of this life we know, then for the time of the other one, when and if we go to that Heaven everyone’s talking about. You once told me, my dear, that we’ll have strenght and will for living as long as we believe. But what happens after our faith turns into the fear of what’s awaiting for us? Into the fear which starts to choke us, steals in in our lungs, throats and noses, slowly and swiftly, just like a gas, and when instead every new breath we take, hoping that we will breathe in the fresh air of freedom, we draw in again the deadly fear. My friend, you once told me that freedom does not leave the free spirit, but it abonded me. I can not recall back when I first became the prisoner and the slave, and even worse, who’s slave I have become. Society’s or even my own? I have started to fulfill excpectations of society long ago, to live life of the deaf and the blind majority, the stupid majority which sourounds and disgusts me. Who sets the norms and rules by which I live now? Them or I myself? Maybe I have sourended long time ago and accepted everything from them, become the part of them, just like the Albatros which sailors haunted down in the poem you had once read to me, do you remember? Do you remember all the loves you had? Do you remember me? What is love, I have forgotten. I see the people around me, lovers and the alone ones. I know what it is, but I have fortgotten already. What is this that we have? We started off as aquantancies, later friends and now I don’t know what are we. If I asked this world around me it would respond me with something I could not understand. I trust you, repsect you, have faith in you, I might even love you, tell me then, what is that? And tell me what is the freedom which is being taken away from us, right to think, having attitudes and knowledge of the real truth? And tell me, I beg of you, what is Heaven and what awaits for us, made of substances, after the Judgment day?

I am writing this letter to you, my dear, because you have always been able to give the answer to my every question, I write this letter to you as a sign that I still haven’t lost faith and hope, and as a sign that one day I’ll breath in deeply and cheer ‘Freedom!’

Beauty

Beauty is something the whole world is obsessed with. People usually don’t understand that beauty isn’t perfection and that nothing is perfect. All the norms and rules, principles and molds which have been set up for us are slowly starting to pull us down, deep into the water of impossible goals and we are suffocating. Everyone is trying to look like a model, to be as close to ”perfection” as possible and it is very burdensome. I have written already about perfect teenagers and youth, and said that youth and teenage kids are beautiful just the way they are, with all their flaws, because youth is beautiful. Kids are checking each other out all the time. It’s bloody important what you are wearing, how you’re wearing it, does anyone else has the same thing as you do etc and so do people in general, that never changes. Many are often insecure about their looks and therefore never dare to try anything when it comes to someone they like, or fitting into the society, that passes on to success at work, to every single thing, and they often are not aware of that or simply don’t want to admit it. Looks plays a big role in our lives, and with the understandings of the modern society that is the only measure of beauty and it is unreachable.

That pulls a lot of strings, starting with the style of life we’re living. The cosmetics and textill industry are giving us new products all the time saying how we absolutely can’t live without them. How are you going to wash your make up off if you don’t have 5 different products from two different brands, or how are you going to apply it if you don’t have the base for every single little thing, from powder to mascara. You go into the store and you see over 20 different brands with all kinds of quality and prices. You see 50 different types of products you should buy and when you look into your wallet you know you can’t afford it. Then, you turn youtube tutorials on and realise that you can’t have half of the things they are using because it’s limited edition, it’s professional equipment or you just can’t have it. The main goal of the industry is you wanting to buy more and more products, more frequent and to think that you really can’t go without them. Lately I’ve noticed that a lot of so-called prestigious brands are degrading their quality. Few years ago you would buy a sweather which you can weare 5 years later and today it can’t last a season. Today the key word is more and the trick is short-lasting.

Now enough with the conspierecy theories, the biggest pity that today’s society makes is the ill understandings of beauty. We are all closing our eyes and act uninterested in front of true and important beauty-the one that’s inside. I know it’s a cliche but let’s face it, it is true. When you look at a person you see him/her on the outside, you his/her face, body and clothes, but you don’t see the person. When you think of that person you say his/her name, and what stands under that? It’s not only the face and clothes, it stands the person with his/her personality and attitudes, principles etc.

If someone approaches you and starts flirting the first thing you’ll notice is the looks and then the very apperiance of the person as well. And if you don’t like that person at the frist sight you’ll probably put up a blockade for your future conversations with the person and there will be no possabilities of you two getting together. On the other hand, if you meet a person with no love intentions at first, you just might fall in love with his/her personality and everything that makes that person and as the time goes by you’ll see all the lovely things in the person’s apperiance. We rarely give people opportunity and tend to judge them, and that’s normal. Better be prepared for what might come then go through a disappointment. But, we should see and look for all the beautiful things in every person who sourands us, in every painting which holds the story behind it’s colors, in every song without words and every shy written word. We should see the real beauty of this world and give it a chance, sometimes things don’t go as quick as we wanted or excpected them to go, but the time works for itself, and we should let it do it’s job. We should keep the people who can see us and our beauty in our lives and those who don’t we should let search for some other kind.

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Autumn

Past few days have been really autumn-ish with rain and beautiful colors. Green light and dark, orange, red, yellow, brown, grey trees and parks, white, clods and fog, bridge disappearing and hiding in the clouds which are doing their light dance above the city, sending us rainy greetings. Wind, hot liquids to keep us worm, music, umbrellas and cozy sweaters.

Melancholy is slowly taking over and so does the feeling of thankfulness for being right where you are.

Watching the birds flying free
Watching the clouds walk
And watching the rain become the sea – Tom Odell

 

 

Autumn in Holland autumn_rain_in_the_park_xi_by_pandi1818-d4fqbin

 

Disclaimer: all pictures in this post are found on google.