Lost By My Own Will



I couldn’t resist, it was the full moon, warm summer evening. I sat in the car and drove.
Just drove true the night.


Just drove, to get lost.


Music loud, windows down, feeling of freedom and that special scent of summer night.
Mixture of fresh grass, asphalt, ozone after rain, and gasoline.


Me and my car, one entity, driving and exploring, leaving the world behind.
Thoughts, emotions, blended into one bubble that would never burst.

I stopped by some unknown woods, and there was that meadow, barely seen through the dark.


I knew I’m lost, somewhere, but it was really what I needed.


I left the car, and sat down on the grass, slightly wet from the afternoon rain, just catching the moment,and wishing it would never end. Moon above me, stars, no cloud in the dark skies above me, not even one.


And then, there it came. Two falling meteors, one following the other.

I laughed, echoing in the surrounding silence, and thought about making a wish, but why?
I had everything I needed in that perfect frozen time moment.


Only one thing remained empty. The place beside me.
The person with I could share the moment stolen from time.
No regrets, though.
If it should be empty, then be it.


I leaved all of it, driving back to the familiar roads.
But my mind stayed there, like in the movie that would stay forever imprinted, with no subtitles, no ending, and with no beginning.




Freelancing Community, Or How I Learned My Lesson The Hard Way




I had the weirdest idea in the Universe, to get involved in the Freelancing community and to do some work, as a writer.

Including all the other varieties as a Content writer, Copy-writer, Ghostwriter, you name it, I did it.

Some sites I have floated through are a complete scam, some are worthy of mentioning, and some had left me with back ache from sitting for hours in front of the computer screen and writing and writing..with no results or paid money as well.

Of course, I have done a lot of writing jobs.

The experience had been great with some people I have met as employers, and they are such wonderful persons that I would likely go out and have some coffee with them and chat like friends.

But, there are examples of complete human …no human, excuse me, animal behaviour there, also.

Blackmailing, scammers, frauds, a list incomplete because I cannot find the words how to describe those non-human non-ethic and non-professional entities.

At some moments I felt like a trapped animal with no way out.

And after a long negotiations, harsh words used as well, from both sides, I closed the page with the question mark above my head and feeling little, naive and stupid to the bone.

Fraud again.

Eleven hours of the full work wasted, no money paid, and feedback that this entity provided on my work ruined my reputation right to the botttom!

And all of that happened, because I just refused to be treated like a slave!

There you go Freelancing community!

If you are trying to be a writer-freelancer, never ever think about anyone except of yourself, no matter what they offer or if they even blackmail you.

Keep your dignity, stand for yourself and fight back if necessary!

I learned it in a very hard way, but at least I’ve learned my lesson well.

The Serenity Of Remorse


I will set free two, maybe three words,

To slide down my cheeks.


I do not want to steal the future time anymore,

I will rather leave,

And keep the honor guard

For the dead thoughts.


One day I will escape utterly,

And leave an empty void for the last wish.

The autumn sky will be hidden by the gap of emptiness,

And death.


Then, with the move of an experienced gambler,

I will pull the rope around the neck,

Of nonexistent, faint body.


I will let two or three words,

To flow with the content down my cheeks.


Thus, comforted, I will go to meet Him,

To appraise the remorse of the revealed pledge,

Sliding slowly down my face.

Yeah Write- Speak Easy Voting Is Open!

Hey folks!


I know how hungry you are of getting some more extraordinary good, inventive, astonishing fiction or non-fiction posts!


So, what are you waiting for? Go, read, vote!

And please, enjoy the ride. At last, it’s the most important thing in this voyage!

Click-click, on the link!

Yours truly, Tina The Mess. 😀




My Own Hidden Cloud


One day, in the afternoon sky, one cloud reminds and not travelled round.

He stuck with me, it was obvious, and no matter the questions I asked, he stayed silent.

My new guidance, he became my new advisor, in the sky. Saving my dreams, imagination and hopes.

Fears? Oh, fears, he had blown them away, they vanished in his surrounding purple air.

I wanted to thank him for being around, but I did not say nothing, because I scarcely knew, no answer will come from above.

So be it, my purple friend.

Have my dreams stay imprinted in you, veiled from the Earth.

And what are the best spot to hide, then way up high, far in the sky?

Not reachable by anything, the Earth, the Moon or the tide.

Insomnia, you ignorant, selfish creature!




Insomnia is a word that describes not being able to fall asleep, no matter how tired you are.
Well, didn’t have it for years and now is full-blown back.
Night passes by, and in a blink of an eye, there it is, morning, sunrise, and all that shit that reminds me how the day started, but I haven’t even finished the last one.
It’s like living in a day that has no ending.
I mostly hate birds. They start yelling, I swear, they’re yelling, around five o’clock in the morning. Just before the sunrise.
Now I’m in the mood for listening some hard heavy metal just to get up my neighbours. If I don’t sleep, why should they?

Ok, ok I am not that cold-hearted and bitchy.

So here it comes a haiku wannabe (undiagnosed poem) which I dedicate to the solstice, full moon, not sleeping.

Good night you say
Hang up the phone
And leave me
In the darkness.
For ten sleepless hours
I stared at TV, ceiling and wall.
Break the circle
Call me
In the moment I finally got asleep
With the sunrise.
I wanted to hurt you so badly
But you’re lucky
You’re not near
So all you get is a pile of
Not connected words
Meaningless sentences.
You don’t understand why.
Maybe, I should just shoot U down.

The Road To Yourself



Not mine photo. Too bad, because it is perfect.
It represents everything in my mind, colourless, empty, leading…somewhere.

I dream of driving full speed on a road like that, feeling free of everything that surrounds me at this very moment.
I don’t need companion, never had or needed one in fact.
I used to be alone, learned to speak with myself and make my own decisions.
Only thing that’s missing is a someone with who I can share a beautiful, hot mug of freshly made coffee in the moment of a sunrise in the end of the road
In silence.
No words needed.
Free open space. coffee taste, sun on the horizon appearing in a slight, yet visible form, touching my face.
Reminding me that, I am, in fact still alive.
Because, when travelling the black road, alone, you lose a sense of yourself.
As if nothing exists but blackness and speed.

Find yourself. Travel the black road. Bring a companion if you wish. Or lose yourself in the perfection of the moment.

Wherever you are going, you’re always find your way back home.

And to yourself.

Perfect Lovers



I never separate The Sun from The Sea. They are One, loving each other in the morning, embracing sunrise with the depth of emotions, sea breeze and soft waves.

If there wasn’t the Sun, the Sea would never have it’s most magnificent look, at the sunset, going from light turquoise blue, to dark blue and deep black, with orange reflections appearing from the horizon.

As the day goes on, The Sun keeping up high in the Sky, waves getting bigger, wind aiming for the clouds.

I lay down in the shade and watch this game.

Interacting, playing with each other, just like two lovers wanting to touch each other, softly whispering through Sun shining and Sea waves crushing on the shore.

All day long they play.

All day long I watch and listen. There are never harsh words, misspellings.

How seductive, I thought. How incredible, I dreamt.

And when the Moon appears, the Sea sleeps, deep, black, quiet dreams of love.

Could this kind of love happen’ to me? Once? Do I dare even think of it?

I know I do.

The Boy




One winter morning, a boy woke up.

He was not any particular boy, or the morning was in any way special.

He knew it was Christmas, but he had long ceased to believe in the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus, St. Nicholas, and everything else that makes a kid feel like a kid.

Under the Christmas tree stood a gift. He knew what he got. He felt no happiness or joy. He didn’t care. At all.


Mom was still asleep. It was early in the morning.

The boy took his favorite books about dragons, made himself some warm milk, and read.


Outside, it was snowing.

He wondered if maybe later he’ll go out, but even for that he had no will.

He read and enjoyed his imaginary world.

Where there is no contention, grief, loss, illness and tears.


For his age, he had seen too much.

He decided to open a gift when mom woke up.

He will fake joy and play with her.

He knew she was looking forward to it. Knew she loved him so much to the point of the physical pain.

When he was telling her that he loves her, then the tears came. She cried for because of so much love she had.


But the boy was in pain because she was always sad. Even while she was laughing with him, while they watched movies, drawing, he could feel some void inside her.

He knew why. He was just a child, but not in his mind. He knew.


When she wakes up, he’ll make coffee. That would cheer her up.


His friend Fred called to meet with him this afternoon. To play outside, in the snow.

He refused. He did not like to leave the mother alone. He loved to be with her, every possible moment he had.

Maybe mum did not know how he sees everything. How he feels everything.

Despite being just a child, he learned to suppress emotions. Just like mother did.

Their grief turned into something invisible but always present and touchable, like a soap balloon ready to burst.


He replaced this surrounding grief world, with his own, in whom dragons ruled, moms didn’t cry, didn’t have to take medications, and moms never had to leave home. Sometimes she was gone for days, weeks.

It didn’t make a difference if he knew where mum left. When she returned, she was different and changed, less sad, but always brought that bubble again with her. Invisible, yet touchable.


He did not want to change anything. He knew that everything would be fine. He just to be there, for her, for him.

To be good. To laugh. Tell her that he loves her. Every day.

It didn’t matter, he had only eight years, and he understood very well that life is not easy.

Does not always bring what you want. That ugly thing occurs.


Once, a long time ago, he had a father. Now he had an only mother, occasionally in rare moments.

There were times when he asked her something, but she didn’t reply, she just stared at the wall, empty and silent. Sometimes for hours.

He got accustomed to it.

He got accustomed to such a way of life. Mother was all he had, anyway.


He decided to go out with Fred.

Mom will be fine.


Yet, today is Christmas. Maybe, just maybe, Santa heard and fulfilled him one wish that he never, ever told anyone. He did not want to admit this wish even to himself.

But it was the wish from the deepest place in his small child heart.

All he wanted was Christmas morning full of laughter, favorite vanilla cookies mum used to bake. And a family.


He knew that it was probably too much to ask. So he returned to his book, to that what was real for him.

Red Fire Dragon. War in the story land, dragons and elves…

And outside, it was snowing. And it was Christmas. And the mom was still asleep.



The Lakehouse Incident


The Lake

When they arrived at their favorite vacation spot, they found that everything had changed.

For the first time in the five years that they have been coming to their lake house in the hills, Lauren and Tom remained speechless.

While parking the car, Tom has noticed that something isn’t right.

The trees were leafless, though it was the beginning of the summer. The grass, “Wait, what grass?”, thought Tom, there weren’t any, just dirt covered with dry, yellow leaves.

Lauren stood in front of the house. At least the house looked intact. “As if the bomb has been dropped here, my God!”, glimpsed in Lauren’s mind.

She looked at Tom. He was confused, turning around and not believing his eyes.

“Lauren?”, said he, ” are we on the exact place? I just don’t believe this is our lake house”.

“Darling, unfortunately we are. There it is, our house. Intact. But all of this, I just cannot explain it”.

There were no neighbours for miles, nobody they could ask what was going on.

The house doors opening had a same sound as always, squeaking from the rust.

Inside, the darkness, until Lauren turned up the lights.

Tom stepped back to the porch.

All the furniture, everything that should be on the floor, was…floating.

“What the…..?”, spoke Lauren and tried to touch the vase floating in the air like a balloon.

“Just don’t do it!”, yelled Tom from the porch.

But she did. In the moment her fingers touched the vase, it suddenly dropped to the floor, breaking into pieces.

“Who is messing with us? Is this a joke?!”, asked Lauren still standing in the middle of the hallway.

“I have no clue! I’m scared Lauren. Let’s just get into the car and drive the hell out of here!”, begged Tom with shivering voice.

Lauren agreed. She didn’t want to end up in some kind of the secret experiment, or whatever was happening here.

Distant echo of the waves crumbling on the lakeshore surrounded them.

They both turned around towards the lake, which was close to the house, just a couple of steps down the brick path.

The water was raising. At first, they both agreed frightened how it resembled a tsunami.

“But on a lake?”, said Tom.

They started running towards the car.

Lauren, breathless, turned to see the whats happening. Tom was in front of her, just few steps ahead.

The lake floated in the air, just like a big water orb.

In the next second, a gallons of water crushed everything in the radius of twenty miles.

Before the water came, Tom grabbed Lauren’s hand firmly, and their eyes met telling everything. “I love you”, was the last reflection in their minds, synchronized, enveloping them in peace.


Official report on the Meadow Lake Catastrophic Event: 

“As the government officials stated, the incident at the Meadow Lake that happened yesterday, was a catastrophic event following the series of earthquakes in the region.

The local population has been noticed that there is no threat of new events.

The extent of the damage is yet to be evaluated. No casualties were reported, also.”





PhD On Terms Loneliness And Plural



Solitude is a synonym for a loneliness: noun aloneness.

So, there we have a three nouns, with the same meaning.

For me, they do not “feel”the same, at all.

Yesterday evening I was so mad at you, stuffing your travel bags once again, as I did numberless times before. I felt grief, because your job is so demanding and you are on a trip almost constantly.

I felt grief because your socks have traveled more than I am, they have seen the whole world. The whole world, indeed.

And here I am, putting those socks again into your bag, the bag will go into the airplane, and you will go into the airplane as well, leaving me as always.

That’s solitude. When you are already missing someone who is right next to you, but in his mind, the airplane has lifted off.

This morning, at the airport, we kissed goodbye.

Instantly, as you were gone, the loneliness has come.

That’s loneliness, when you return home and find a pair of forgotten socks. Me and your socks, waiting for you to return.

The days passing by, loneliness turns int a monster.

The monster called aloneness. It eats you, it haunts you wherever you are, no matter what are you doing.

Aloneness is the final stage. The verge of the pot full with emotions, ready to blast off.

I could ask for a PhD on these three nouns.

I mastered them to a perfection.

We have been talking about us, about your airplanes taking off’s, international arrivals and the awful airport coffee.

I had it enough, I don’t want to feel the third monster noun again. The pot has exploded, and I cannot do it anymore.

When you return to our home, where we have lived for the past few years, I will give you your forgotten socks.

I will kiss you because I love you and then I will leave you for good.

Because loving someone so much and missing him constantly, mastering the all synonyms for the solitude, is ruining my life.

I want you in it, in my life, in my presence. I want you, and not the forgotten pair of socks.

If you will ever be able to understand the solitude, the loneliness, the monster of aloneness, then you will find me.

If you do that, I’ll get rid of my PhD, and finally make a plural in our lives.

Instead of “you” and “I” apart, we could make the word “we” or “us”. A new word in my dictionary.

That would be an awesome PhD, about the new term  – “we”, as a plural.

But it’s up to you to decide. The socks, or me. The plural or the singular, it’s totally up to you.


The Future Revealed



He taught me how to read people’s eyes.

He taught me how to use, to hide and how to control my skill, the Grand-master of our secret society, by the stories, old as the Earth was.

It was not a magic for me, as at one point in life, it just emerged to me. The ability we cherished in our family, was secretly hidden for centuries.

Once, the people called ones like us, The Witches or The Demons.

So, we learned how to hide and blend into the society that never understood our ingenuity.


There were rules, though. We could read other people eyes, see their memories, past and future. But it was forbidden to share our insight with the Commons, those without the ability.

I took the oath, privileged and accepted into the Congregation. I was finally equal to others, not inferior anymore.

In the real life, which I led normally, I was just another young woman. At the first few months I had a hard time controlling my insights. I didn’t wont to read everyone. But in time, I managed it.

I rarely used my mastery, though. Only in situations were I felt like I need to do it., like the rules implied.

“Hello”, said the voice behind me silently. I turned around. I was at work, and the delivery guy brought me some memos. I always thought of him as a strange person, somehow different.

He looked at me straight into the eyes. Almost without blinking. I felt an unknown energy flowing through me. As if I was uncovered, as if he knew who I was really.

Confused, I took the memos, and he just disappeared.

I was thinking about speaking to the Congregation about this event, but I decided not to show my weakness.

I haven’t seen him around for the next couple of weeks, and that made me calm. Even a slightest reflection of him made me nervous.

One day, I went shopping, looking for a new couch. I looked in the several stores, but nothing satisfied me.

“Looking for something?”, asked a familiar voice. I felt his look, even from behind. I didn’t want to turn around. But I must. “Yes”, I replied politely. The eyes. My body wanted to run away. It took all of my strength to appear….normal.

“Have you found it yet?”. Inquired voice, provocative eyes.

“No, I did not.  I had enough of searching”.

“Maybe I can help you”, replied he.

“What do you mean?”, I asked perplexed.

“The couch”, stated he firmly. I looked at him. I had to do it.

Like a universe unborn, his mind wild and bent, his thoughts rumbling, his memories mixed up. The past hidden in a gloom.

But the future, clear as a sky in a bright sunshine day.

” Yes”, I whispered. “The couch, help me find it”.

The future began, and I just took the first step into it.


People Pass By Me, The Celebrity





Why, o why would I ever want to be a celebrity, even for just one day?!

No freaking way.

I’m famous already, but nobody knows it, except me.

I’m my own audience, paparazzi and crazy follower.

My mind sets a stage every day, surprising even myself by the things it performs!


Dazzling things ,

stunning stuff ,

scary stunt performer actions,

captions of sentences to cry,

jokes to laugh at,

and scenes that would make you scream.


Celebrity, but without the front page at some trashy newspaper, or a new edition of the perfume named by me.


I’m famous already, and I don’t care if no one knows about it.




Life Changing Restaurant Order

Jason had problems with  hair gel. His hair looked like he was stroked by the electricity, messed up and he was unable to fix it.

“Damn!”, he yelled at himself in the mirror.

His date was probably already waiting in the restaurant. Rose was a girl he thought was worth every effort make this dating into something more. A true relationship.

“Ah, just leave it”, he said silently. He was late already. The hair will stay as it is.

On the way to the restaurant, the cab driver annoyed him with his music choice.Too loud, too aggressive.  “Everything seems to be going wrong”, Jason taught.


Rose sat at the table for some time. She ordered a martini. Playing with an olive in a glass, she felt nervous. Jason was such a sweet, good, fantastic guy. He wouldn’t let her down. But still, she was nervous.

A tiny girl with freckled nose and green eyes under a bunch of curly brown hair, smart and witty. She fell for Jason on the first date. Even thinking about that, made her blush.


The entrance doors opened in a style, bumping into the wall.

Jason, just stood there, searching for Rose, not paying attention to a receptionist addressing to him.

When he saw her, he just rushed to the table.

“Hey Rose!”, he said excitedly. She gave him a kiss in a cheek. “Your hair is a surprise of a day, it’s quite interesting the way… it stands in the air”, she smiled.

Somehow Jason found that sentence not intrusive or like she was mocking him. He felt relaxed, calm. That’s why he loved being with her.

“So let’s order because I’m hungry as hell”, said Rose taking the menu.


As this was a French restaurant, all the food names were in french, with a translation beside. Jason was hasty, not trying to read it all, and he decided to make it quick and simply.

So he ordered “cuisses de grenouille”.

“Are you sure?”, asked Rose.

“Why?”, asked Jason. “Well”, said Rose, “maybe it will be the best for you to find out yourself”. She laughed so beautifully, that Jason ignored his surprise order.

The food arrived quickly. Roses dish looked delicious. He didn’t know what it was, but it looked good.

As for his order, he stopped breathing. On the plate were legs. Small legs, fried, but still, legs.

Rose’s laugh, made the people around to look at them.

“Surprised?, she asked. Oh, how he was surprised.

He touched one pair of legs. “I am not eating this. They look like they’re going for a walk!”, said Jason.

Rose didn’t stop laughing.


“Let’s go”, she said.

Exiting the restaurant, she kissed him. Deep, mind blowing kiss.

“This is for the best evening in my life”.

Jason smiled in her arms.

“Thank you, frog legs”, he thought. “You just made my life wonderful “.





The Ability Of Perception



In the depth of the silent woods, through the mist and darkness, I saw him coming, as many times before.

Sitting on the grass, melting with the sounds of the forest, I closed my eyes.
“Have you learned anything from a previous meeting? Any new stories you need to tell me?”, he asked.
I felt he sat down by my side. I looked at him.
He always looked the same, through all those years that have passed, never getting older, always wearing the same long black coat and military boots.
Black eyes, the blackest black I have ever seen, were looking directly into my eyes, trying to read my mind.
“No need for that, I said, “I will tell you all”.

The silence stood between us. I have never interrupted him in his approach. It was the first time in my life, from the first time we met, that I showed the resistance.

“The happening will occur, soon, to get me where I do not want to go. I tried to stop it, but it is impossible. All the other probabilities just lead to the same endpoint”, I said trembling.

“Are you sure? Because after all the time I am teaching you, you have always found the parallel in which the endpoint is changed”. He looked confused. And that scared me. He was never confused, perplexed, or showed any kind of emotion. Just an empty face with the perspicacious eyes.

“Yes. I searched and tried hardly. As never before. But there’s just no other path”.

He nodded his head. I felt his thoughts rumbling through mine, searching and discovering.

I knew he would find exactly what I told him. Nothing more.

“You are right. You have done everything correctly, following all the steps learned. You are ready.”

That was not a good conclusion. That was not what I wanted to hear. I expected from him, as from my teacher, that he will be able to track down another passage.

“So, what am I supposed to do now?”. I was calm, in the cloud of our perception spot.

“Nothing”, he said bluntly. “As I said, you are prepared. Our journey has come to the end”.

Images from the past, rushed around my mind.

Childhood, when I first met him. Seven years old girl, sitting at the same place as now. Afraid. Through the years he taught me so much. He helped me in numerous situations. And now, in my middle thirties, as a grown woman I reached the end of guidance.

“Thank you”, I said. That was all I could say, nothing more, nothing less. It would be inappropriate to move on with more words said.
We already said it all to each other in the past years.

“Remember, as unique you are, you are not indestructible. Your ability is not unbeatable by the universe. Accept that certainty, as you have accepted all of my coaching before”.

No remorse in his voice, no sadness because of our last goodbye. I didn’t expect it, though.

He stood up abruptly, the black coat and that familiar boots glittering in the moonlight.

He turned around and gave me a last look into the depth of my soul, and just vanished into the deepest parts of the woods.

In my mind, I heard “Goodbye”, and that was all. Nothing else to add, to say, to calm me as he did before. It was the end of our journey.

The path

Waking up was painful. Distorted mind, scattered thoughts. The usual feeling after our meetings. I got used to that over the years.
Coffee had brought me back a little, but still, the restlessness did not subside.

In the street, walking to the work, I was always looking at the pavement, not wanting to view someone in the eyes.

Because, if that happened, I could hear all of the person’s thoughts, the resemblance of his past, and being able to see his future, which was the hardest part. I have seen enough pain and suffering, and felt it with my whole body. I could not deal with it anymore, it was just too hard.

My ability was not a gift, but a curse. I have been grateful to my teacher to lead me and coach me how to control it, but sometimes it was not possible to break up the contact with the other person, and that was bothering me.

At the work, I was completely serene. I did all of my tasks, arranged meetings, concluded the unfinished work from the last week.

My co-workers were all blocked for my ability. I did that a long time ago, after realizing how much distraction there is working with a group of people and being able to feel what they feel, to hear what they think every time I looked someone in the eyes.

As the end of the day was near, I was resistant to go home. So I asked one of my colleagues to join me for a cup of coffee in the nearby restaurant.

I needed someones presence now. Just for a while, just to settle my mind.

The coffee was terrible, but the chit-chat was relaxing. I laughed at some jokes; I smiled to the stories about his weekend barbecue failure due to his nervous wife and annoying neighbors. The story totally unknown to me, as I have never experienced it before.

I grew up as an adopted child in a home without emotions, cold, distanced and miserable. That is why I run away when I was seventeen years old, under the guidance of my teacher. And I accomplished everything I wanted, including the most important thing to me. My own home and my precious solitude.

The evening was over. My colleague returned to his family life, and I went to my confinement, tranquil and empty.

The Peace

In the next weeks, my life didn’t change at all. I did all the same things as before. I read a lot of books, though, long into the night.

I never ever gave a thought about the path that was unchangeable. Because, this time, it was simply unchangeable.

What must come, will come, and I could not revert it as I could before in the other situations, changing the future and avoiding the unwanted events. That’s why my life had so smooth path, with no unpleasant surprises, just the settled road that I was walking freely.

My teacher taught me not only to see the other person completely, deeply into the soul, but he taught me also, how the scenery of my future life could be changed. By finding other paths which led me into the wanted direction.

Only this time, the universe had not offered me anything, but only one lane to go.

I went to sleep, with no more forest and black coat who had given me the reconciliation my whole life.

The happening

“You missed the point”, said the stranger, I just met at the club. I went out on a Saturday night, to dance and chill out.
We were drinking funny cocktails and fooling around, talking about nonsense stuff, joking and laughing.
I forced him to stay the stranger to me, because I have blocked him, not wanting to know anything about him. I just wanted a night of fun. That was all.
“My place or your place?”, he said. I started laughing so loud that people around, looked at me with curiosity.
“Neither”, I said. “I’m just not into it”.
“Ok, ok, I had to try!”, he smiled. He seemed like a nice person. An interesting person. And he was a handsome guy. Pretty handsome.
But still, I refused.
I was avoiding any contact for the past ten years, because of fear of commitment, the fear of knowledge, the fear of the future.
He just smiled again as I said I had to go home.
“Too many cocktails! I feel dizzy already. I’m ready for a good night sleep”.

Yawning, I just left the club, leaving him totally surprised. “It’s better that way”, I thought.
The cab driver was silent, which I preferred, just listening to the radio the whole way to my apartment. I felt calm, safe and very sleepy. It was a fun night, at least for me, I thought.

Entering the apartment, the scent of the flowers surrounded me.
In the darkness, through the fade moonlight from the window, I saw a figure standing in my bedroom.

Long coat. Black, I assumed.

Boots, military I assumed.

I felt no fear as I approached him.

“It is you”, I said. Even in the dark, I could see his black eyes looking at me.
“I should have known it. That’s why the vision of the person was blurred, and the happening so clear. Because, it is you”.

Silence. Heavy as a stone.
“Yes”, he said. “I blurred it”.

I understood now. Everything was falling into one perfect piece of my life design.
“I tried to change the paths, but even I couldn’t”, he said with the perfect tranquility.

Closing my eyes, I knew. I saw it before, in my dreams.
What must come, will come.

For the first time, I felt his lips on mine. A kiss. Of love, understanding and sadness.

The warmth of blood on my hands, on my legs and his kiss still lingering on my lips.

He lifted me softly and laid me on my bed. I could feel the warmth of the blood surrounding me.
I had no strength anymore to open my eyes and look at him one more time.
But I knew the tears on his cheeks. Just as I knew the feeling inside of him.

What must come, will come.

Even unconditional love cannot stop it.

The Tragedy Of Commitment



The tragedy of commitment.

Have you ever thought of commitment to one person as loosing other possibilities that may have come your way? Like parallel universes exist, and in everyone you choose someone else, something else, with unpredictable consequences.

I have found a great short novel/ article on the web that have described my thoughts to the fullest.

If I wanted to explain it, this would be it.
Below is the link to the original page, and all the credits go to the author, Andrew Boyd.

“The tragedy of commitment

Whoever wants something great must be able to limit himself.
–Wolfgang Von Goethe

Sometimes you are paralyzed with indecision. You can’t bring yourself to choose any one future because to choose one is to forsake the promise of all others. Yet not choosing is making you crazy. In such a state, drastic action is necessary. You must choose–and then, one by one, murder all the futures you passed over. Like a faithful companion you’ve cherished all through your youth, you must lead each future back behind the shed, and even if it looks up at you with those big eyes, dreamy with possibility, you must put the cold muzzle to its head and pull the trigger. And you must do it again and again for each future that competes for the attentions of your heart. Only then are you ready for commitment. Only then can you pursue the one thing which will, in time, and after much mourning, become all things to you.

The future is full of possibilities that I must shoot in the head.”- Andrew Boyd



Any thoughts about it?

The Traffic Lights Of My Life


Abstract Street

Why are the traffic lights of my life always red?

Even when I want to go, yellow stops me, in the moment, and doesn’t let me move an inch.

I stand, I expect, hope exists, but is getting smaller.

I’m not going back where I’ve been back, I want to go, go, forward

But the green light does not come on.

Is it a sign?

Do I have to stay where I am and face all memories from the past before I move on?

Again, go through all the mistakes and harsh words, wrong acts, reckless thoughts.


Who decides where I’m going?

Am I not the one who has the right to get up and go?

Why anyone thinks he is entitled to ignore my traffic lights??

I am completely faced with the consequences of what I have done.

How long will this purgatory last?

In eternity?

Too long.

Please, whoever looks at it all and knows all, the one who gives himself the right to decide instead of me, please, ask him in my name to let me go.

I have suffered enough, and red is not my color anymore.





My friend is a nice person.

He is polite, always with good manners, opens the doors to me, answers my calls and text messages.

His clothing style is admirable, as he always looks like a male mannequin from the expensive clothing shop.

His hair does not have unpredictable ways of curling, or shaping into something that looks like the birds nest.

He is always perfectly shaved, and smells like a perfume store.

He does not drink beer from the bottle, like I do.

He does not swear.

In fact, I think I hate him.

I will blame this hate on his verbal tick, the only indignity he owns in his life.

“Hell yeah”. 

How can such a guy repeat the “Hell Yeah” every two seconds no matter what the subject of the conversation is?

He blends the Hell Yeah perfectly in the conversation, even if we are talking about the newest information in the scientific field.

Although its admirable gift to make every sentence properly adjusted to fit the Hell Yeah in it, I hate it.

Once, I was counting how many times he can say it in one evening. I gave up, as I went crazy around one hundred times.

I implied to him how its inappropriate to abuse the Hell Yeah so much, and that I will surely kick him if he uses the phrase to excessively.

Of course, no chance of the Hell Yeah disappearance.

So, everyone in our friendship circle now call him the “Hell Yeah”, although Matthew is his real name.

He is not complaining.

Maybe the amount of the hair wax on his head absorbs the negative energy around him and makes him totally indifferent about his verbal tick flaw.

Hell yeah, I simply cannot be in his presence anymore!

I swear, the next time I’ll meet him,  I will kick him!



Bringing The Beauty Home



Walking through the streets of Barcelona, in the wild summer night, embraced by the taste of red wine and seducing sounds of music from the street musicians, your hand spontaneously tangled me into dancing in the middle of the crowd.

Laughing wildly, enjoying every moment, we kissed as the crowd around us applauded.

I bowed to them as a ballerina, enticed with the atmosphere and perception of bliss in the air.

Red wine called out for another glass, so we sat down in the nearby cafe, passionately looking into each other eyes.

It was that kind of night, spontaneous and wild.

As if I floated into another dimension, I prayed for this feeling to last forever.

We were kissing while walking, dancing, and laughing through this astonishing city ambience.


In the dark, the famous cathedral La Sagrada Familia was enlightened, looking almost unreal in its beauty.

We started to run, like a children, racing, for the winners prize, a kiss of love.

He reached the spot in front of Cathedral first.

Hugging in a dreamlike state, kissing like we will never kiss again, a whiff of surreal sound touched me.

He didn’t hear anything, but I was assured that something called my name. Softly, warm and pleasant voice.

I looked at the Cathedral, and her beauty looked back at me.

Hypnotized by its astonishing charisma, lightning in the dark of the night, I couldn’t look away.

Every piece of the building created into perfection was so alluring.

And yet again, my name. Heard only by me.

Ignoring his calls, I walked towards the entrance, knowing it is forbidden, it is closed so late in the night.

But, surprisingly, when I pushed the door, they opened.

Enter, I heard, so I did. Enjoy, I heard, so I did.

Fascinated by every part I could see inside, I ignored the calls from the outside.

“Want to stay with me?” asked that voice.

Mesmerized, I simply said yes. Yes, of course.

The atmosphere around me changed, as if gravity vanished, I felt like I’m floating in the unknown direction.

Like it all suddenly happened, it stopped abruptly.

The voice was gone, somehow I knew that.

Dreamlike state also vanished. The door opened by itself and the sunlight shined into the building.

Walking out, dazzled by the light, the sight slowly became recognizable.

I was standing in the middle of my hometown.

Turning around, everything seemed normal, just a plain working day on the streets.

Behind me, stood the Cathedral. with its whole beauty, shining in the daylight.

His voice called me again, and I took a step forward him, confused.

“What’s the matter, sweetie pie?”. “You look like you never have seen Sagrada Familia before.”

Not in my hometown, I thought.

“Weren’t we in Barcelona just now?”, I asked.

“Oh honey, our trip ended couple of weeks ago. You are just too tired, I will have to speak to your boss”, he said and smiled.

“But, the Cathedral….Gaudi built it in the Barcelona”, I whispered.

“I don’t know what is happening with you this morning, but my coffee break is over, so just let’s go back to the office, and talk about it later, ok? You’re just tired and confused”.

He went to work, I stayed looking at the building. For hours.

And then the awareness of simplicity and belonging embraced me.

Yes, La Sagrada Familia is here, and it belongs here. It was here before. It was built here.

Soft voice echoed in my head, confirming my thoughts.


As always, I was about to meet my darling for dinner at home.

Slow walk through the park towards home was relaxing, as the soft voice embraced me with the message: “See you soon”.

I just smiled, knowing that it is so true.


The Childhood Lost And Found



A little plush bear pushed into the corner of a dusty, grey, dark basement.

Talking to the spiders and rats, sometimes cats if they come around, but cats as cats, they usually minded their own business, and were not interested in the chit-chat.

Teddy, once called The Muffin, as he barely remembers, was someones favourite toy.

It was a girl, he recalled, with the dark hair and a funny laugh. She used to put him in the bed before sleeping, tucked him in, hug him. When she was afraid, her hug was tight and trembling. He gave her comfort. The Muffin.

Now, dusty and forgotten, all that has left was his ripped fur, one eye and some memories of a better days.

How many time has he spent in that abandoned corner? He couldn’t tell. No one was coming into the basement for ages.

At first, he felt abandoned.

Then afraid of loneliness.

At some point he got used to it. A little sunshine spark woke him up every morning. That was a thrill, knowing that outside the Sun still exists.

One day, his peace was disturbed by abrupt door opening, running steps down the stairs, and harsh male voices.

They were complaining about the amount of trash that needs to be taken away.

Muffin heard a word “selled”. The house was selled. And where is he going to end?!

The rumbling started. Piece by piece, every part of the basement was cleaned up.

All the stuff he used to look at so many years just vanished in boxes.

As same as he did. Thrown into the box, together with the broken porcelain doll, old newspapers and an old radio.

The steps carried him out into the sunlight. Blinded, he breathed the fresh air, forgotten scent of open space and a freshly mowed loan.

The truck was roaring and the boxes were literally flying into it. The guys weren’t kidding, they have cleaned up every corner in an instance.

And then, in all that noise and turbulence of sounds, he heard a voice. Known voice who once tucked him into the bed. The voice was grown now, but still, it was the same laugh, the same tone.

He could not speak or move, but he wanted so desperately just to see her again.

One of the workers started arguing. The other was shouting at loud. Soon, they pushed each other, starting a fight.

The box flipped over in that mess.

Porcelain doll broke apart. The radio ended up on the grass, the wind lifted the old newspapers right into the air. But the teddy stayed laying on the pavement. The Sun was directly shining into him.

The voice said through the light, stunned and delighted in the same time: ” Muffin! Oh, my little fluffy Muffin, there you are!”

And the familiar hands lifted him up into a hug never forgotten.