31

Note to self:

1. You don't need to hate everyone to be independent
2.You don't have to hide all your emotions to be strong
3. You don't have to hate everything just to keep yourself from getting hurt
4. Not everyone hates you, merely a person or ten of them

30

I would like a completely fresh start.

A white wall, empty house, empty head.

I want to rip my life from it's roots and plant it to a strange ground.

It is your home now, I'd say and smile, this is where you belong.

I used to dream of studying in oxford.

That was my favorite dream.

I'm pretty sure that i won't get there at any point but it's still one of my favorite dreams.

But now it's it because i could start with a clean start.

A blank page. 

25

I'm not feeling that good.
I don't know what I'm going to do with myself
I don't feel like sleeping today. At all. But escaping from the window to a summer dream seems like a bad decision after realizing how big the fall must be.
And if I fall, there is a someone who needs to dance alone.

22

(Dear diary)

I feel like no one cares anymore.
About me, about my stories, about my thoughts.
I feel like everyone hates me, but it might be my own hate reflecting from bodies made of mirrors.

21

It's been a while since I've written anything. Or at least anything good.
I didn't have any writing classes this semester - we don't write anything in English and it's been so long since I've had any writing classes in my native language.
And the thing is that I actually really miss my writing teacher. She encouraged (encourages?) me to write and she is about the only person who has seen my writing.
We don't count my friends that I show my writing assignments if they show me theirs because i get only comments like I didn't get it or It was ok after they are done with them. Not that I say anything else. They keep telling me that I'm a good writer and I should make a career out of it but then again what makes them think so? All my writing for school is messed up and weird and I write it under pressure and leave out all the good bits that could light the gunpowder on fire. That gunpowder is the reason why I don't show my writing to my family. And they wouldn't respect it at all.

But that teacher on other hand?
She hasn't seen the best of it but keeps reminding me to write, giving me good grades on my assignments (even tho they are a bit shit), asking about going on writing classes outside school.

I haven't written anything in ages and I feel like I'm letting her down a bit.
Then again why should I write when other teachers (read: group-student-counselor-who-is-a-bit-shit) keep telling me that I will not be a writer?

16

I wish I could tell you that

every love poem I've ever written is about you.

15

Blood blooms only for a second before the wound turns to a scar
and the only memory I have of it
is the thudding pain beneath my
ivory skin

7

Few months back, someone sat behind me in a bus.
Red haired girl or young woman, no one special really.

She peeked behind my shoulders, reading the text i was writing from my pocket fitting moleskin. I took a risk on writing what I wrote, big dreams, big secrets and when I got off the bus she looked at me like she could see through me.

We shared a moment, looking to each others eyes (nothing romantic) and I almost laughed at it. She knew who I was and I will, hopefully, never see her again.

don't mind me

"I can't stop thinking about grandpas hand," my mother says quietly. "I was holding it and now I just keep seeing it, he's hand."
I close my eyes and turn my face away. I don't do feelings, not even when someone dies.