Don’t take it slow girl

Slowly
I imagine speed sometimes…

Me driving a car, a red one, I don’t know why I always dream of myself inside of a red car, maybe because I associate that color with danger and adrenaline, or love, or maybe because that was the color of my dad’s car, but it is always red. I am driving it! Yes, I know how to drive in my head. I am going so fast that the wind hits my face and I have a feeling of numbness. I am laughing hard when I start, but then I just stop, I can’t control my face muscles, the car is still moving very fast, but I don’t, my mind doesn’t. I have stopped with my hands in the wheel, numb.

Speed is the word that describes my life, everything happened as I was stuck in a moving car which didn’t know how to stop, it just moved faster and faster each time. I grew up faster than my friends. I remember that I was used to the curves in my body way before my friends started freaking out about it. I remember learning not to care about what people thought of me way before my mom did. I remember knowing whether I am religious or not way before my dad did. I remember learning everything so fast, and wanting to know more, wanting to be someone, to achieve something of my own without others’ help. You might think how ambitious I might have been, I think how fast I had to work because I was the only one who could help me. No, my parents didn’t abandon me, they were always there, but luck abandoned them, so they couldn’t provide me all the things I needed, or deserved. Therefore I said to myself: “Study more, read faster, dream quicker, you have to speed up!” I had to, I was the slowest person I have ever met, I still am.

My brain works fast, I trained it to, my mind too, but my will…

My will is slower than my feet. I have very slow feet, maybe because I am short, or maybe because I get distracted easily while walking, and start deluding. I usually have to drag myself up, and when I do nothing can stop or slow me, because I know I could go back to the previous stage of mind. I should never slow down, because when I do I go back to the depression mode, so slow is not an option, well at least that is what I tell myself. I convince myself that speed is the answer, and I surprisingly find myself stopped, numb, thinking even slower than I walk, because speed might be the answer, but taking it slow is my normal state of mind.

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Stopping for a moment and thinking… Prizren, Kosovo. July 2016

“Don’t take it slow girl!”- I keep telling myself, so I won’t lose track of time or happiness, and I accelerate, until I am out of strength.

Life keeps moving very fast, but I don’t, my mind doesn’t. I have stopped with my mind elsewhere, in some other nonexistent dimension, numb.

Even in my dreams I can’t reach your heart and put MY soul into peace.

I dreamed about you last night, or this morning, I am not sure, but I dreamed about you. You were still here, and we worked together, and I was having the feeling of boredom, feeling that I have been having for quite a long time lately. You were there sitting, and I was having a feeling of fear, feeling that I have been having for quite a long time lately. I remember wanting to ask you to go out later that night, because I was bored, but I couldn’t because of my fear. It was dark, not as the lights were off, or as it is night outside, but dark as a lost memory, blurry dark. I remember fading as was trying to reach you and ask you to go out later, but you looked scared too, even more than I was. Even in my dreams you don’t understand that I won’t hurt you, all the contrary. Even in my dreams I can’t reach your heart and put YOUR soul into peace.

I stopped hoping that we could have something in the future while I am awake, but I can’t stop hope fulfilling me in my dreams, can I? But hope doesn’t need me to stop it, it stops itself. Right before I wake up, right before I make up my mind to come to you, right before I feel secure, right before I have the feeling that there could be a “we” between you and I, the hope stops and reality kicks in. How terrifying is this?! How awfully sad?! Even in my dreams I can’t reach your heart and put YOUR soul into peace.

People usually believe that dreams show them the future, what will happen, but Freud says that dreams show us the past. Show us what happened or what we locked in our hearts. Show us what we are feared to show ourselves while awake. And I happen to believe Freud more than people, and I happen to believe that’s why hope stops it self even in my dreams, because I start being conscious, because I am seeing what I fear the most, not being able to reach you, not having you in my life spiritually, because physically you will be around. And I wake up, with the feeling that I will see you today, but it has been just two weeks, two weeks of us being just friends who will see each other when the school starts and I miss you. But, even in my dreams I can’t reach your heart and put MY soul into peace.

 

 

Obstacles of a twisted writer in college

Obstacles of a twisted writer in college
Obstacles
I am in the bus, leading to a new destination, to fulfill my life. I would have said to create it, but then it goes against my ideals: “You don’t start living when you become 18. A new beginning comes only after an end, so you just moved to another chapter. Nothing ended for you to start something new, you are just moving on.” Plenty thoughts invading my mind while I try to dry my tears of homesickness without even crossing the center of the city yet. “I will drag myself out of the nostalgia of the naive girl away from home for the first time by writing. Writing has helped me deal with harder struggles before, it will help me again.” Yeah, you semi-optimistic little mind of mine, when will you stop lying to yourself? Who would have thought that you could be so twisted and hard to deal with!

-Most of your assignments will be essays, -the first words I remember being told to me when explaining how the college works.

-That is amazing, writing is my passion, writing is my life,- my little mind smiled happily, and that smile appeared in my face too.

“You have to be that transparent, don’t you?  Showing every little emotion or thought. Jump to conclusions without broadly thinking. Don’t move your muscles sweet face of mine, but how can you, like you control your own muscles! Don’t jump into conclusions my strange mind, but how can you, like you control them! Why can’t you be on my side, just once Brain? But how can you, like I control you!”

Plagiarism, in text-citation, works cited, paraphrase, quotes, examples, testimony, statistics… list of words that I used to find magical, as they made an essay make sense, be fulfilled. Without them an essay was as a home without love, just another house, a meaningless building, words thrown from heaven into a blank paper, fulfilling with emptiness an empty sheet. “You jumped into quick conclusions again, didn’t you? This isn’t high school.” Surprisingly I hated high-school, so much meaningless home-works, so many lost teenagers who were overwhelmed with life without truly living it, but I loved the essays. I could write about the system, about the selfish politicians who gain power and wealth in the behalf of innocent citizens; about the hobo that entered the bus and scared the hell out of us, but I felt sorry about and regretted of being superstitious about before I learnt his story; about same sex marriages; about my perception of supernatural and religion; about everything that I could think of. I remember that I could sit in the back and write in my notebook trying to finish that novel I started when I was 16, and about to lose my sanity, while the teacher explained the supply and the demand. If I only knew that I would be dealing with them again in college, I would have left my characters sleep for a moment and pay attention, but although I didn’t I had a better idea of applied mathematics in economy than of academic writing…

-Why do I have to write my ideas the way she wants me to? I want to write about the right of abortion, not about linguistics; I want to write about the right of expressing thyself, not about lies; I want to write about solitude, and lost friendships, and universe, and life…- and I kept complaining and complaining without realizing that I was indeed writing my ideas, in the professor’s way though, but still my ideas. Complaining and complaining and I lost the track of time, I lost myself in the middle of the words never spoken and never written. I put myself in a writer’s block, struggling to find the right expressions. Using different online tools to find the right synonym, the proper citation, the accurate source. I cried myself out of solitude and failed miserably, I laughed my way out of sadness and I failed even more miserably. Complaining about the constrains that were being put into my art, trying to deal with life on my own, I almost ended up in the bottom, without a way out to the top. Failing to deal with the mood swings when the only thing I needed was to grab a pen and a paper and write my heart out, as I did when my grandmother died when I was 10, or that summer of the first “platonic love” when I was 14, or that year when my family was falling apart when I was 16, but I failed doing it now when I was losing myself at being 18. I failed, because I lost the awareness of my being, not because of the academic obstacles put in front of me from my professors.

Maybe I am dragging myself out of the block lately by writing what I feel, maybe I am still failing miserably, but summer is coming, and I will fall in my sweet summer sadness and the happiness of writing will keep me alive.

Love&hate

-I don’t usually listen to just music.

-You mean instrumentals?

-Yes.

-Why?

-Because I need the lyrics, I relate to them, or I think of them in a way that I could relate to them…

***      ***      ***

Unspoken words of my heart:

I create stories in my mind, from the lyrics of the songs. I am the main character. I wished I could tell you all the characters I have created or all of the shoes I have worn based on the lyrics of different songs, but I can’t. Not because I don’t want to because I don’t feel comfortable talking to you or telling you crazy weird things about my being, but I don’t remember. They are always different stories, every time I hear a song, the story changes, I change, the world changes, and I fell in love all over again, with the singer, the song, the music, the lyrics, me, love, life. I change my mind pretty often, you know? No, you don’t, I know you will say that you do, and maybe I will say: – Yeah, right mister know-it-all, probably you will smile, even though you won’t like it, you might think I am giving you attitude, but I am not. Is just that you don’t know. You haven’t seen that part of me. Not yet! You haven’t seen me changing my mind about those shoes I saw in the window of a shop last weekend, you haven’t seen me changing my mind about the TV-serials I like to watch, you haven’t seen me going from Sia to Imagine Dragons to Rihanna and then back to Sia ending up to Evanscence within a week or maybe a day or maybe an hour, you haven’t seen me changing my mind about going out, or about the guy I thought I liked for a month and forgot within an hour. So, you don’t know that I change my mind pretty often, because I haven’t done that with you. I have left myself in the shadows of your confusion, I have let you change your mind, and I have waited for my turn to do that, while I was biting my lip until it bled reminding your sweet kisses and your lovable bites. They weren’t many though, but trust me when I say, they were unforgettable.

I lost my track again, I do that pretty often, especially when it comes to you. Maybe you have noticed, or maybe you haven’t, you don’t pay attention to little things, or you do but forget them, or just lock them in your heart so nobody will know that you too care. I wish you didn’t do that with me, but I guess I am not that special, I am not your type of girl (if such thing exists with you), or I am just too much drama and there is not enough place for my imperfection into your little infinity. I did it again, I got confused, thinking of you. Yes, thinking of you, which reminds me of a song from Katy Perry. It’s a nice song actually, and I find myself in there, my future self unfortunately. Maybe I’m overreacting again, but I think I will end up like that, making “easy comparisons, after I had a taste of perfection”, your imperfect perfection. “Second best is all I will know”, although I haven’t taste you entirely, I have imagined it though. It feels so right, tasting every part of you, knowing you entirely, but maybe I should follow Katy’s advice and “the waters I will test”. Just take myself away from the thoughts of you, tasting different flavors of ice cream, even though I know that chocolate will always be my favorite, I could live with vanilla as well, but that bittersweetness that I surprisingly happen to find in chocolate will be missing, and I will be left with the boredom of vanilla. But it will be nice though, I could try apple, cherry, orange, caramel, banana and so on. Different colors, shapes, looks, smells, but I would still look for your eyes in the crowd. It will be hard to find them though, as it was hard to fell for them the first place. Don’t get scarred, I haven’t fallen in love. How do I know that? I know because I believe that love needs two people to happen. Love has two syllables so it comes as a couple, therefore it needs two people to be felt and brought to life. What a stupid analogy over there, but it’s okay, I can be stupid sometimes, in a funny, childish stubborn way. I could drive you nuts in a minute, but I could drug you out of there in an instant too, with a smile, a touch or a hug, send you to heaven and throw you to hell afterwards. Don’t worry, I can bring you out of hell with two words: “Kiss me.”

There is a song titled Kiss me, it’s my “you” song. I have loved it since the first day I heard it, but recently it has a real meaning, not an imaginary one. Kiss me, by Ed Sheeran. It reminds me of the first time we stood together, with nobody else around. I change the lyrics in my mind a little bit, so I’m sorry Ed, I love you and your tattoos, but I love the way he looks me even more. “And my heart against your chest, my lips pressed to your neck, I’ve fallen for your eyes, but they don’t know me yet, and the feeling you forget”, when you first saw me directly in the eyes and admitted that it was the first time you saw someone in the eyes for that long. I might look like a freak, remembering all these things, and relating you to some songs, but keep in mind that it is 2:18 a.m. and these are some after midnight thoughts. I would never write those in a normal day, maybe I will show this to you in the same hour someday, but still keep in mind, our minds are possessed after midnight. They start behaving as being drunk, sharing the deepest thoughts and the most hidden feelings, so don’t worry, don’t get scared away, but instead just think of me now as you when you are drunk.

Oh, I love it when you are drunk, and I hate drunk people. If it was for me I would have prohibited alcohol, I would have made a spell to make it vanish, but hey, you make me love things I hate. A love and hate relation, remember? That is something you should remember, even though you were drunk, and I know that alcohol was talking. You should remember that for just a second you loved me, and I hated you. I hate drunk people, but I love drunk you, because you can be with me and not be afraid to hug me, kiss me or even tell me what you feel, and that makes me sick. Confusing feelings, lovable feelings, hateable feelings…

I’m not expecting anything actually, I am thankful that you were honest and explained me how you are. I might not like when you leave my messages seen, but I know you don’t like messaging and I can be very boring sometimes. I hate when you say that you will go out with me and then leave me for your friends, who are my friends as well and I love them, but feel so jealous of them sometimes. But who am I to feel jealous, me that loves hugging people and hugs everyone except you, because I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, me that has a Tom & Jerry relation with most of my guy friends that some of my girl friends think I have something going on with one of them, but never with you, because we decided it will be a secret, to avoid drama, so I try to be distant in front of others. I love when you ask me to read your papers, I feel like my opinion matters for you, considering that you are a great writer, and pushing everyone to a “successful” graduation, I love that you listen to me when I complain about my fucked up life, I love it when you ask me if I want you to do something, or when you hug me when I ask you to. But I hate when I have a feeling as you are doing it just because you are a nice guy and don’t want me to get hurt…

I’m sorry though, I know you don’t have time for a drama queen like me, I know that there are people who need you more than I do. I don’t want to hurt anyone, and I don’t want to bother you with my feelings, feelings that you are not to blame for, that I probably should have kept to myself, but I can’t stop myself from thinking of you, from remembering the taste of your lips, or your shining eyes leaning towards me to kiss me, or you whispering me to bite you. I know I am not the only one who has felt this for you, but when we are alone you make me feel as if I was. I love the feeling of getting lost in your eyes, forgetting the entire universe, even that I hate you more than I love you.

Did I find the one I want to fall in love with?

Once again I found myself checking someone’s facebook profile, daily love horoscope, listening to romantic songs and watching videos of how to have the guy. Once again I have butterflies in my stomach every time that guy comes towards me and smiles me, once again I keep shouting a name in my head and hoping that he hears me. Once again a guy got my attention, but this time, this time is different for real.

I tell myself this is the real deal every time I like someone, every time I want to have a guy’s attention I tell myself that I am falling in love, but this time I didn’t. This time I keep telling myself that love takes time, love can’t be found in the eyes of a person, love is found in the soul. This time I tell myself that love is created by two people who are attracted by each-others’ minds and not by bodies or smiles. This time I don’t remember the first time I thought of him as a boyfriend-to-be, this time I just remember myself feeling fascinated by everything he does, silently without wanting everybody’s attention. This time, I want him to know me and be fascinated as I am by him, this time I feel pretty when I talk to him and I don’t cry myself to sleep because I feel unworthy. This time I don’t tell myself it is different, this time I feel it is different, when I can relate to romantic songs and find love horoscope and “how to get the guy” videos stupid.

Every guy that I have ever liked was different, never from the same social group, never from the same religion or town, never with the same features and it always felt a little bit different, but they all had something in common. Every one of them was the type of guy who stood out in a room full of people, the type of guys that appear super confident, that every girl wants to have, the hotty of the group, those who didn’t care of the world, typical egomaniac stereotypes that make a girl stand on her feet and touch the sky just by a look and a smile. The good looking jerk that every girl dreams of late at night before she falls asleep. I wanted to be loved by a player as most naïve teenagers do, because if you have the love of a guy like that you can have everything you ask for in life. Could I be more stupid?

Now, he is different. He is not the typical guy I am used with. He is not the kind of guy that you fall for as soon as he smiles to you. He doesn’t stand out in a room full of people as soon as you see him and I didn’t see him with his buddies playing around at first. I saw him from the library’s window eating his sandwich and then smoking his cigar, but not playing cool, just being away from everybody else in his own world. I didn’t fall for him when I thought he was staring, I thought he was mysterious. I didn’t want him to fall for me, I felt the need to show him me, to know him. I didn’t admire his dark brown eyes when they first smiled at me, I was too busy staring at other guys’ abs and games. I didn’t laugh until my teeth fell off with the first joke I heard from him, I laughed until my heart felt happy. I felt like I was reading a book when I first stood all night up talking to him. I found myself smiling when I heard him singing subentry even though the table was full of people and that was the first time I heard the song. I wanted to hug him and ask him to sing again and nobody else to hear, but me. The little details of his being fascinated me. I don’t want to always be right when I talk to him, he makes being wrong feel so right and rebellious. I don’t mind that he is better than me in something, I actually want to learn from him and I want to teach him too.

I don’t want to teach him not to look at other girls when we are together, I don’t want to teach him that being jealous makes a girl feel appreciated, I don’t want to teach him love because I have no idea what it is. I don’t want to teach him what I felt like a necessity to teach other guys, I want to teach him about life with me. I want to teach him that is good to ask for help sometimes and that a hug can make a huge difference. I don’t want him to be the only one who compliments me and makes me feel wanted, I want to make him feel like that too. With him is different. I don’t want me to be the center of his life, I want to be an important part of his life, the shoulder where he cries after a midnight nightmare, the lips he kisses after a horrible day, the smile he looks for even when he is the happiest person in the world. I don’t want to be his life, I want to be the one he shares his life with. I just want to be there when he turns his head and I want him to wait for me with his arms open for me to fill them. I want us to look at each-other and find the universe. I don’t want to brag at everyone that I got the guy, or him to brag that he got me, I want to feel his love in the air when he enters the room, I want to feel the warmth of his hands in my cold ones. I want him to see me with my morning face and laugh together about my sleepy eyes and his messy hair. I don’t want just to make love to him, I want to create the love in our lives with him.

Without even knowing he is part of my thoughts. Without even understanding I started feeling bad when I thought he wasn’t doing well. Without any reason I started missing him and I started wanting to know more about his life. Weirdly as it was I started being impressed by what a guy says and not by what he is wearing, even though he has a great taste when it comes to his outfits, he has an even greater taste when it comes to topics, books, films, ideas. Slowly as a turtle trying to pass the road he became an important part of my life and I am too scared of him choosing not to be a part of it, that I hesitate letting him know.