Not from the Same World

I am not bitter. Actually, I am very happy. I just don’t like the circumstances I am living. It is very easy. Until I change them, I will remain as I am — not so much alive. That bothers me, of course. I am not dead. I am curious. I am liebevoll. I am full of life. I just need the change again. And I know how that works. I need new scenes, I need new people, I need different streets, I need different clubs, I need all different. It’s nothing special. And it’s not for the first time.

Tonight, while I was walking the dog, and now I am trying to make this habit — to walk her every night the same time, around ten, and to smoke a cigarette, I saw beyond this where I am right now. I didn’t have any angst, I just thought it was not cool smoking a cigarette, because every time I feel very dizzy, but I still did it, because otherwise it wouldn’t have no sense walking the dog that long, for example. I needed to maintain the note of walking the dog on the higher level. I needed to make it special. Because I know every street, and I can go blind. In the morning, when I wake up, I am normal. That means, I am very normal. I am not emotional, I don’t have some extreme needs, I just want to read my emails and make my breakfast. I want to take a shower and open the computer in the kitchen, while I’m making the coffee and something to eat. That is fine. It’s not a condition. It’s normal. But, then, I need to dress and go out. Every day I need to go somewhere, it’s how we live, we go out, to make money, to work, to go to the school, to drink, whatever. And that is the moment I am sick of. I am overwhelmed with this city. And it’s not me I am the only problem. I was also fed up with Belgrade, and before my home city, and I have changed every time. I know how to move on. I am coughing on the psychological bases. I hate this. In Belgrade, I was coughing so much, that I thought I am going to choke. Now people ask me if I have tuberculoses. It’s ridiculous. I’m just smoking. I like the feeling getting the walls of my throat even worse, every time a little more worse, that I can feel better the cigarette. The cigarettes I am not buying, I am taking randomly from the people from the street. That is how I practice my good will. Like this, in this state, I am actually very distant to the people, so they seem even more distant to me. It is that stupid illusion we are making it ourselves. On the other hand, I know everything is right, and they will give me the cigarette anyway. I am walking, always dressed in my own way, I really don’t bother my comfort, which varies from high heels and something very cosey and big, like sports pants or whatever. I combine anyway. I started to walk straight, because I had some problems with that. Shit on people, I am taller than everyone almost. I don’t look people in their eyes anymore. They seem pretty much away anyway. Before, this was the main fun, to look at them in the eyes. Now I only see the shadows them pass, I see them fast, or I go on the side, because I don’t want to touch them, or anything similar. I don’t need people now. People are no good. Definitely. It’s not the egoism thing. This is not that. This is even worse. It’s a cold ignorant distance that took the shape as the main interaction. Very interesting, actually. Although everyone is jerking on his telephone, pretending he’s curious or amazed or whatever, there is no communication anymore. Communication is so low, that is exactly what I’ve wrote, a cold ignorant distance. It’s like you are interested in a pet, but actually you don’t give a fuck. When someone is talking to me, I am most of the time thinking of myself. It is not that I am not listening, it is just that I really don’t care anymore. I don’t have the nerves, the time, my energy is precious — and everyone is talking about the energy, I don’t care. Rare are the moments when I care. With maybe couple of close friends, which means two or three people. And I am thinking, but maybe it’s the city. So many people complain about the city, they are not crazy. This city made us depressed. This city is making us older. The conservative atmosphere is everywhere. And it’s slow. Some people like like this, I detest. If you travel, it’s fine. Otherwise it’s like in the city I grew up. Everything’s the same, and everything is close. That’s why I am convinced I should move to suburbia. City center is killing me. In suburbia, you have different faces. You have real markets, you have dirt there. You have a life there. Here, I have facades and white, a lot of white color. For someone, this is a beautiful classic city. I am a modern woman. I don’t like pension yet.

Yesterday I took every grey hair from my head. At first, three months ago, I started to think that is sexy. But now, because I don’t know how I’m supposed to look like, I took them off. Or out (because they have their function too). And this is the key word: the function. I am not functional in this city anymore. I used to be functional a lot. But now, I am not. And I need to be functional. This is the only way. I remember, in Belgrade, I have spent a year sleeping until 3pm, because I couldn’t be functional in that apartment. I really couldn’t move. It is true. My sister says she’s not functional at our home, so she’s staying in her apartment. It’s no great philosophy beyond that. Some things are working, some are not. You cannot let yourself become sick or fucked up, or ignorant like me. I am full of everything, I am just not interested. And it’s not that I cannot make a change within myself, or inside myself. I am changing all the time, like a maniac. It’s not that. Different circumstances.

Recently, a guy told me that we are not from the same world. That is the most disgusting sentence I’ve heard in the last few years, but it is true. We were not from the same world. He is successful, but beside that he is organized, and that means very simple things: to have your own apartment, to have your own studio, to be freed with yourself. It is not only money or something. But as I don’t know. I was trying to somehow maintain his “level”, which is the level, or standard I grew up, but I fucked up with attitude like this. So, he basically insulted me maybe as no one before. Because I know very rich people and they know how I live, and no one was rude like that to me. On the other side, because we tried to have something intimate, I understand his behavior. He didn’t want to have something worse than he had before. We always have to progress, it’s no big deal, it is necessary. But the way he said it, he made me think about him as one of the greatest snobs I have ever met. And still, I am trying to resolve that in my head, because it doesn’t go somehow with his philosophical and whatever attitudes. I don’t know, I guess we are all snobs and we are all free to choose whomever we want. But it came as a surprise, because I thought he had some feelings towards me. So you don’t run from that that fast, I guess. But he did. He left me after he shitted on me as I was being completely honest with him. So, that was another, another one, lection, in my life. I thought that the time of lessons had past, but I was wrong. This was the biggest one, I guess. Because I was really into him, and he seemed really into me. And we failed.

But now, with my eyes very open for everything new that is going to come one day, when I allow, the first thing I know is that I won’t be sincere, open and honest. I mean, I don’t open that easily to people, or potential partners anyway, but the next time will be all in white gloves. Or black, I don’t care. I think I won’t love anyone after. I cannot do that anymore. And I know myself. This is a big disappointment, only I cannot allow myself to be that fucked up, because I was fucked up before, and I know very well how it works. No, no time for that. Life is cruel. Time is cruel. I just move on. But I have still a sickness inside of me. I am so fed up with this person, because I was so much in love, and than I bumped on my own mistake. So, I had to deal with my mistake — with my deranged behavior, with his changed behavior — because he changed immediately towards me, with his hurt feelings, with my hurt feelings, but not so much, and the destruction, which came as double punishment, from my side, and from his side. The famous energies changed so badly, from the state of deep and innocent love to deeper hatred on the moments and loss of trust, lost of communication and silence. That silence is killing me. Because when you talk to someone for four months, and almost every day, or maybe not every day, but you know that it’s there — it exists, and you feel it, when it’s gone like this, it’s like somebody just don’t exist anymore for you. Maybe or possibly I am not still very aware of what happened, and I’m writing him messages from time to time. But the conversation is poisoned, he put me on the distance. And a lot, and that is so sad, somehow, that someone who wanted to be with you, because of one mistake, put you over night in this miserable level. I tried to talk to him normally, but it’s not possible. He excommunicated me. So, beside of shock of everything that happened, I still sensed in a way that he was talking to me, through music, of course. Because it is the only way of communication we kept. But also this uncertain abyss between us, this hole filled with unspoken words — this is the worst. Normal people talk, right? But we haven’t exchanged like five sentences about it. He erased me, I guess, like he erased someone else before. He cut me from himself. But that’s alright, ‘cause he got burned, not me. Somewhere I saw, in a movie, that mistakes are the worst devils on earth. And it is true. You cannot make them better. You can only make them even worse. So, that’s like hell. Beside I made myself a hellish situation, I made myself also a better person (You see…). I stopped taking drugs. I quit on drinking. I was very into sin, as I can see the photos of myself. I started to sink, instead of solving things. I was trying to get away from everything in the worst possible way. I became not trustworthy, I started to avoid obligations, but that lasted only like one week, ten days. One week I was on extrem, and before that as always. But, one mistake after another put me into the state of real excitement, I was very euphoric and high. I guess, I was high only. So now, I am very grounded, I don’t go out that much, I am in school every day, and still, it is very hard for me to put myself into real order, but I am trying. This is so funny, I was always like almost perfect, I was always so good, so righteous, so committed, so into things, and then I became like a streetwise, like some stupid bullshitter not doing anything and talking only. I gave up everything normal I was, because this city, and in this city, I started to see people who are not so much interested into things. I stopped talking about music or movies, because they don’t know. My friends from Serbia — they fucking know. They are educated. Here people, they know only what they want to know. In Serbia — my friends know everything. Every detail, architecture, Pasolini, post-rock, Canada, Deleuze, we fucking have themes about we can discuss all the time. And here — bullshit. Looking for the drugs half of the night. Talking about stupid young and not interesting people. So called or seemed art. Galleries, so many galleries, and gossiping, unvaluable comments, conclusions, some half-developed species, I don’t know what this is. I mean, I used to make music, to have concerts, to stay awake for 3, 4 days, but with a sense, not to be wasted. Here, it was a huge waste of time. Oh boy. So, everything is good. This cigarette I’m smoking — it is good. Because it is already changing, and I am going somewhere. This is this quiet modus Vivendi. I don’t mind. I need it. Just I don’t know what to do with my hair. Shall I cut it more, or let it like this? Because it’s burned. Maybe I’ll cut it in the morning. And then, a strategy of different streets. Well, it’s a small city, what can I do.


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