g-bohema-blog

[g-bohema-blog]

actually, in the ruins, in those places where there was an ancient civilization, where there were not such people as we are, there is a aesthetics of the past. I want to get lost there.

[g-bohema-blog]

Casual acquaintance

It was Monday, I guess. I was walking up the street to the bus stop after school. Suddenly, eyes caught on the tiny black spot. It was like I was walking towards myself. We were just really similar: medium length dark hair, black clothes with rare red accents. I also thought she was wearing a t-shirt with a band I was listening to. It was shock... yeah, I guess nobody listens to that band now. When we were walking past each other, I just said something like, "Oh, is that a t-shirt with a band?" She turned around and said, "Actually, no." I could see her clearly. T-shirt was really just with some simple pattern. Oh, my fucking vision. I wanted to apologize and go on my way, but she told me about this band. I was just listening and did not notice how we found ourselves in a bakery. We chatted nonstop, the day was nearing its logical conclusion, the street was dark. She told me her name. Now I can't remember it exactly, but it seemed like it was something like a Lily. Then I sat in my room, flipping through the social network. At that moment I still remembered her name and tried to find her Facebook page. But I didn't, hell, I didn't even know her last name! When I just slammed the laptop and it plopped on the bed next to me, I closed my eyes and sighed heavily. Opening them, I realized that it is far after midnight. There was no laptop, there was a pillow under my head, and I was wrapped in a blanket. Fucking dreams. I'm looking for you, Lily.

[g-bohema-blog]

What I hate myself for

In each of us live shortcomings, which we genuinely hate. Someone has more of them, someone has one. I hate myself so much; exactly myself, not my flaws. Because I can't fight them. I don't have the strength. And desire. I still hate my nightmares. I still hate my looks, but I don't do anything to make it better. Yeah, I don't always eat healthy and don’t run around in the morning to lose a few pounds. I hate place where I study. This is a shabby place on the outskirts of the city. There are shabby desks, they are completely in the gum at the bottom. There is the leaking ceiling on the fourth floor, so in the spring we study with the buckets, in which water drips from the top. There's broken toilets and flying plaster. There's not the nicest people. But, fuck, I just can't transfer to another school! I hate my character. I hate myself for just not being able to change it. I hate being confused when I need to support and comfort someone. It's so weird when you can't come up and hug a man crying. Not to mention the people closest to you. I really can't hug you and tell you it's gonna be okay, mom. I'll probably lock myself in my room, put my nose in my pillow, and cry, too. I can't approach a stranger in the crowd if I'm interested in something. I don't know what casual acquaintances are. I'm so afraid to just start a conversation with someone I don't know. I have panic attacks when I see more than three people. I'm trying to get away from where there's a big crowd of people. At night I have beautiful dreams where I meet good people by accident. I hate that it can't be true. I hate my abilities. The fact that I can draw not two sticks instead of the person, means nothing. The fact that I remember the physics formula also does not matter. Nobody around here believes that, and it fucking pisses me off! I also hate to swear, but I do it so often. I hate that people hate me. Hah, but I hate myself. I feel like this world is just not for me. It's like I've been at a loss since I was born.  And I can't get it over with.

[g-bohema-blog]

So now I'm lying in my bed without light. Everyone's asleep except me. The door to my room is locked. A narrow strip of yellow light stretches from below. As if there was a light bulb in the hallway. But I was the last one in the hallway, and I remember exactly what I, flipping the switch, went to my bedroom. I don't hear the weird noises which I used to hear. Probably because I haven't tried to sleep yet. I want to scream my throat out. I can't look anywhere but a bright phone screen. I want to close my eyes, but every time I imagine something terrible. I can still see that light under the door from the corner of my eye. Now something flashed outside the window. Something like a star, I don't know. It was bright, but soon fade out.I'm texting with a friend. It's her birthday tomorrow, and I'm writing her all these puzzles like I'm Tyler Joseph. I'm funny, but, hell, I don't forget what's happening to me for a second. Now I'll close my eyes and it's gonna be OKAY?

[g-bohema-blog]

Hell, I just talked to my mom about my nightmares. I just asked her if she heard anything strange at night (she has a very light sleep). She said no. She suggested that it could be raindrops hitting the iron windowsill outside. But I started hearing these strange things when it was a week without rain. And the sound that I hear is not like that at all; it's like a few tones lower and not as frequent. I wasn't talking about the guitar. She'll definitely think I'm crazy. I have one last night in this apartment before a two-week vacation. I hope IT won't haunt me in another city or in a car. Then I'm not exactly justified. I'll panic even more. Scary to imagine... Dude, I'm not crazy, I'm sure, but what the hell is this? Seriously, if I hear that today, I will die in this place. I've never been a horror fan. But now I feel like I'm on a goddamn TV! Though no monsters have come and tried to drag me into the darkness. But I've felt something akin to it twice already. I'm sure it's not a dream, because at these moments my eyes are so watery and they asking me to close them and fall asleep. This is so real. I want to know what it is, but at the same time I just want this shit to be over. My cat hisses at something under the window. There's nothing. I think I'll lose this game.

[g-bohema-blog]

It was a deep night. I was lying in my bed with headphones. Actually, I’m used to stay up late. I go to bed at midnight or just when it starts to get light. So it was an usual thing.

I went to bed that night, maybe, at 1:30 am. My mother and stepfather slept behind a wall a long time ago. At least, I thought so. When I take off my headphones, I just stared at the ceiling, trying to sleep, and began to hear strange sounds. My window was open and I thought it must be the local I-never-sleep-teenagers. Sounds like… slaps? I can’t say for sure. Huh, I thought, they’re having sex again, not caring that I’m not sleeping. It was a pretty convincing theory.

The next night I was absorbed in some work, so I went to bed after finishing this shit, about 4:00 am. This spanking started again when I was tossing and turning in bed. My theory didn’t seem to be convincing. My mother is a pretty early bird; when she was still working, she wake up at 5:00 am and go to sleep at 9:00 pm. She exactly sleeps. I couldn’t explain those sounds. My friend was also not sleeping, I was chatting with her, that was somewhat saved from fear. The sounds ended after 10 minutes.

A couple of days ago I was playing the guitar nonstop. I tried to sleep again at midnight. This noise… He was again, but not for long. Next thing I heard, it’s like someone’s quietly strumming a guitar. That day seemed to be the second since we brought it home. I thought I was being paranoid. Except for me, there were no people in the house playing the guitar. Only me, a mom who never wanted to try because of her long nails and fear for fingers (I seriously asked her) and a stepfather who never showed any interest in music. It’s scary. I heard a quiet game. My guitar was locked in a small room, like a cabinet for all family members. The door to my room was closed, too. I heard that game through two walls. I wrote to my friend again. She didn’t answer me. I thought maybe it was a draft (we live on the 7th floor in a redeveloped apartment, so in that room sometimes had terrible drafts), but there was no wind on the street. Then I had the idea that mom could lock a guitar with our cat. I asked her about it in the morning, but she said that Sonia had slept all night on the windowsill in their room.

This is seriously weird. Just from the night when I first heard something my sleep was disturbed. I wake up almost every two hours and I feel sleepy all day.

I heard the guitar yesterday too. I was going to the bathroom and, damn, I was so scared. The bathroom door was right between the door of my room and that cabinet. Damn, damn, damn, my heart almost stopped. I’ve already prepared for the worst. I was waiting, that someone walk out the door and just fucking kill me. The sounds stopped. My hands were shaking (although this often happens; for example, when I say something stupid and then very worried). I quickly snuck into the bathroom, did my business and just as quickly ran into my room. I slept badly again.

I haven’t said anything to my mother yet. I think she’ll send me to a psychologist. Or twist her finger to her temple. But I’m so fucking scared. That is all… these all sounds, they start exactly when I want to sleep.

One night, I could almost feel like someone will walk through my door right now. My heart was tap-dancing with my stomach tied in a tight knot. But no one came inside. I guess I should thank God for that, but damn, if he really exists and loves his offspring, he shouldn’t have let that kind of thing happen.

It’s probably paranoia. I feel like I’m having a panic attack. I’m not afraid of death, but I’m afraid of this strange devilry. I don’t believe in this shit with ghosts or anything like that. Seriously, damn, it’s terrible.