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www.blogas.lt/eternalenigma

excerpts of Me

2009-11-03

There are at least two people living in my head. One speaks Lithuanian, another one English. In the evenings I‘m surrounded by so many voices, I‘m confused by my double identity, I‘m so so so confused. Guess it‘s different for Meaghan, Anna or Urbi?

It‘s much harder than I thought. And not as joyful as I‘ve imagined.

2009-11-14

[...]

I‘m so good at self-loathing. I could get a MFA in it.

2009-12-08

He will have dark hair. And a small beard. And good eyes. He will have beautiful hands, palms, shapy, bony thingers. He will be interested in sustainable living, he will know how to cook (professionally is not required). He will often hug me. And he will always seek for opportunity to hold my hand.

2010-01-24

Do I need to suppress this??? Do I need to stay silent when all want to do is jump and run and shout. Well, not maybe shout, but run very fast. And HOLD SOMEONE‘S HAND. I feel this loneliness is going to end. I can already grasp someone‘s cool fingers reaching out for me. Because sometimes I feel I cannot stand this anymore. Being alone, being on my own, this burden of doing everything for one, for myself, it just doesn‘t feel right. Sharing is what‘s right. Doing/making something together. Making a change, even if it‘s only in my/our head(s).

2010-02-18

[...]

Shaky hands, heavy eyelids [though I slept enough], the reminiscence of cold, Smila who knew the smell of snow [I miss that book so much, though now I prefer sun and bloom to snow], oh why am I so anxious?

2010-03-15

I have to tear up this membrane that has become a painful part of my body. It has stuck to my skin, and I tear it to pieces, stare to the outside, breathing is hard and the sky is so blue.

I am not fragile. I am not fragile. I am not fragile. I need discipline and routine, and then I become a determined young woman whom I quite admire (sometimes). But then from time to time I collapse and become a jelly.

2010-06-03

Yes, I admit, I‘ve got anxiety problems

Even staying at someone‘s place and staring at the ceiling on a warm and fuzzy early morning fills me up with a tingling feeling that, as I imagine, comes up as a worm eating my fleshy heart out. Bit by bit. Oh, all those people around me, they‘re living such beautiful lives, they seem to be experiencing things to the fullest, they seem to be the real ones. And me, only a pale shadow, feeding on their light and enthusiasm for the Beauty.

Beauty is the answer.

Beauty.

And, nevertheless, each peaceful moment ends up with a threat (of course, I realise it only exists in my mind, but following the logic that I am my own world and what is happening in my mind is what really is happening...) of total destruction, immense and indefinite pain, suffering, tears. Destruction destruction destruction. I always repeat keywords three times.

It is inevitable, because I won‘t find escape from myself, and I will never ever take any drugs, so what I‘ve got left is this Word file, books, music, feeding on other people‘s vibrations. Parasitize.

What a terrible word. I am not a parazyte. What am I doing then?..