Match lit up

Too Real

I decided to let go and enjoy the “realness” a while ago. This little piece was born while I was resisting to believe that it could be true. 

I’m scared to the point that I just compared my state of mind to a fish being caught on a hook. It’s too late to swim away now and I honestly don’t want to, however there is that sceptical side of me again. It’s trying to break through my sanity, my rational thinking to aggressively put out that twinkling little flame. I’m fighting the doubts, the unrealistic disbelief.

I’ve waited so long to finally let myself go and moments after I did it, for some unknown reason I’m trying to destroy all the hard work. I’m questioning whether I’m subconsciously enjoying this battle, whether I have a sick, twisted mind that’s letting out a satisfied laugh. But I come to the conclusion that no, I do not enjoy this. I want to go back to the previous moment where all seemed to fall into place. Where I felt I was finally in a place I’ve been trying to find for months. The home of my soul. Content, relaxed and truthful. With a permanent smile stretched across my soul and heart. I’m probably scared because I know that this is actually very real.

Let it be real, let it be scary, let it be exciting. I feel alive suddenly and that’s what is so scary.

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A sneaky peek of ‘Sent Away’

My brain is currently giving birth to a fantasy / sci-fi novel. Here’s a tiny glimpse of it, enjoy!

 

I was very surprised they hadn’t noticed that I was in the basement as well. I didn’t deliberately stay quiet or forced my muscles into a standstill when they ran through the fake-wood door. Lying down behind the sofa might makes you think that I was hiding but in fact that’s the only place where I can connect to the wireless charging unit. My phone ran out of battery three hours ago and I had to find a place to upload my daily activity report. I couldn’t risk missing the deadline, again. I already have two warnings and trust me, I have no plans bagging the third one. It was 19:48 when I heard Lorna telling off Brian as she slummed down on the leather sofa that my friends call so-vintage. Exactly three minutes earlier I pressed ‘Submit’ for my upload and I let out a sigh, feeling quite pleased that I had 15 minutes to spare before I would receive my confirmation back.

So there they were, not even half a meter away from me – how can they not notice me? Well, I didn’t exactly throw them a ‘Welcome to the basement’ cheer when they rushed in. But still… they were so ignorant sometimes. Especially Brian. The amount of fights I had with him as a child! He’s not the typical older brother who would look out for his little sister. From time to time I got so angry at him, I was wishing they would send him away. He came close to it on 3 occasions. But as soon as he opens his mouth and gives his ‘Final Speech’ the jury would change his mind and let him stay. I never understood how it was possible. Once, maybe. But 3 times?! I used to wonder if it had something to do with his looks. So many girls were after him when he was in his twenties, even my friend Jessie fell desperately for him. She would not shut up about how Brian’s greyish blue eyes made her hypnotised. How his deep brown hair looked so neat yet sensual when he slicked it back. Or how she would gladly die if his bizarrely thick lips could seal hers. Ew. I pulled a disgusted face every time she described his facial features in this manner. You don’t want to hear these things about your brother.

Then one day I realised it wasn’t his looks. When the ‘No gender no physical attributes’ law came into effect I was sure his lucky days were over. The law stated that anyone being prosecuted needs to remain anonymous and presented behind a sound altering wall in front of the jury. This way no one would know if the accused is male or female or what they looked like. As Brian stood behind this wall on his third occasion, I was positive this would be the last time I see him. And yet, he managed to convince the judges that his good, compassionate personality only took a little tumble and he was ready for his big good deed. They let him stay, again. That was the last time he was giving his Final Speech.

“See little sis? This is how you deliver the perfect FP. It’s not like you would really need to know, you never get into any trouble. You must be so bored every single day.” The arrogance of his voice was increasing my blood pressure at a dangerous speed. It hit me there and then: it was his way of manipulating people with his words and nothing to do with his looks. This was about 1 year ago just when he was turning 30 becoming High Risk. And based on what I’m hearing from behind the sofa, I think I need to get prepared for his 4th time. But what the hell did he do dragging Lorna into his mess?

“It’s not about fear Brian, why don’t you get it? We need to have some structure. We can’t just live how we used to. You need to finally accept the fact that things have changed.” Lorna’s cheeks were shining with redness as she placed her shaking hand on Brian’s shoulder.

“I can’t accept it, I won’t.  Don’t you see? They are forcing us to do things we don’t want to do.” The words echoed with an arrogant undertone.

“What? You don’t want to help people? You don’t want to do a good deed every day? They are not asking us to lie, to rob or kill. If you feel that this one rule is so terrible then maybe you should be sent away” her voice trembled as she got to the end of her sentence. Brian shrugged his shoulder so forcefully that Lorna’s hand fell off of it slamming down onto the leather sofa. The redness in her cheeks became brighter and her chocolate brown eyes instantly got filled with tears. I thought this might be a good time to show my presence, as strangely I felt a little sorry for my brother. Not for Lorna for some reason.

“I don’t mean to interrupt but…” I said quietly and peeled myself off the floor slowly remaining in a sitting position.

“What the hell Lia?”

“I had to find a charging unit to upload my report. I’m guessing you haven’t done yours?” I asked. Actually it sounded more like a statement than a question and I couldn’t help raising my eyebrows. They were still sitting down twisting their backs around to see me on the floor. Lorna propped her arm on the top bit of the sofa and rested her head down on them letting out an exhausted sigh. Her hazel skin gave a magical contrast to the saffron coloured furniture. I always wished I could somehow swap my pale skin with hers. And her hair. Her curvy, dark caramel locks with my not-quite-brown-not-quite-blond straight mess. I was a little envious of her looks but then so was every female who saw her. There was something about Lorna that made you feel intimidated until she started talking to you. So humble, so cheerful and always ready to help someone.

“Not only he didn’t submit his report but told the jury that mine was a fake and it was him who did the good deed not me.” She said so calmly that really confused me. If he did that to me I would want to punch his model perfect face.

“What?! How could you do this to her Brian? And why?”

“Chill out sis, it’s what Lorna wanted.”

“No, I did not want this. I told you to do this my way, not your stubborn, manipulative way.” Now her voice sounded a tiny bit angry at least.

Brian jumped to his feet and took a dramatic deep breath as if he was about to go under water for a while.

“Manipulative? It’s justice, not manipulation. I have to prove them that I’m right. That WE are right.” The way his words came out of his mouth reminded me of his last Final Speech.

“Explain to me what’s going on?” I asked and swallowed back the fear that was stuck in my throat.

“Listen Lia” He looked at me with such brotherly love that I’ve never seen in his eyes before.

“Do you remember my last Final Speech? The part I was talking about you?”

“What?” No, no, no….don’t let this one be true. He’s a manipulative liar. He will say anything to turn the situation in his favour.

“Do you remember?”

Red brick wall

Writer’s block

I have moments when a strong urge to write is burning inside me, yet I cannot form a cohesive sentence. I know that I’m not the only one who faces this frustration occasionally. The question is: what do you do when this stubborn block hits your brain? Personally, I carry on writing and I end up with a hard-to-decipher, frustrated mumble. Like this one: 

Delete. Type. Delete, delete, delete. Start again. I have something very important to tell you, yet it doesn’t want to become a form of words. It burns my soul with its white fire and tightens my throat when I’m attempting to say it out loud. A heavy exhale. Yes that helps temporarily, let me do it again. Dizziness kicks in; well at least my physical symptoms are now in line with my emotional ones. Start typing again. My fingertips are hitting the keyboard at such a rapid speed that my skin is burning up. Sloooow down, this is not making sense. Delete, delete.

New paragraph. Organise the tornado of thoughts. I need to understand where to start and why do I want to start. Do I want to start? Stop confusing yourself even more, no questions. Just type. Two more sentences are formed, let me read them back. Doesn’t this sound miserable? Was that another question?! Hush now consciousness, this truth inside my soul needs to be born. It needs to be shared with you but firstly I need to admit it to myself and stop running away from it. This is not a rabies ridden dog trying to bite my arm off but this is…delete, delete.

The realisation hits so hard on my chest that I struggle to breathe for a few seconds. I do not know what it is that I must tell myself. It all remains the playhouse of Confusion.

Assumptions

It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon. Almost perfect – she thought sitting outside of the coffee shop where people were queuing for home made carrot cakes, non-fat lattes, full fat cappuccinos and everything else we are told to buy but can’t really afford. She took a sip of her freshly ground Italian coffee as she observed the crowd through her overpriced sunglasses. Her chair was facing the main square providing an excellent view of the street musician who was surrounded by that crowd she now decided to be unexciting. The musician however caught her full attention.

Her mind immediately started playing a movie starring her and the gorgeous guitar player.

“Marco what is this?”
“This for you mio amore, you can wear it around your beautiful neck, so I will always be close to your heart. See this? It says Dolce Vita. Do you know what that means?”

A young waitress interrupted her daydreaming waving in front of her face, asking if she needed anything else. She looked at the inpatient girl and shook her head without saying a word, and showed her the well known sign for ‘Bill please’ which increased the waitress’ blood pressure drastically.

“I can’t believe this woman” – the offended waitress whispered to her colleagues ear, taking her anger out on the till.
“Look at her, I’m sure she’s not even 30 but she acts like if she had the same life as the Queen; just because she’s got it all she could have said a thank you or at least something. What a stuck up bitch, I wish I had spit in her coffee.”

“Come on Kate don’t be like that”

“What? Like her? Oh look, look ‘I’ve been shopping at Swarovski, I need more ear-rings, doesn’t matter I have only two ears I have to have a hundred of these.’”

“Just give her the bill and no spitting!”. Kate forced on a perfect fake smile they teach in customer service workshops and leaving her pride at the till she walked over to the Queen wannabe and placed the bill on the table.

“€28.99? Mm not too bad” – thinking as she opened her wallet to get some money out. Next to the stack of €20 and €50 notes a shiny business card caught her attention:  Lali Bronson – divorce lawyer. “I need to stop putting this off, I’ll contact her this evening. Oh… no email address, only phone numbers” – she tore up the card and left it next to her bill, placing more money on the table than the waitress deserved. She rummaged through her handbag, looking for a pencil to leave a note for the waitress.

Her friend arrived just when she finished writing. As they walked away she told her how amazing the coffee was – by using sign language.

 

Steering wheel, driving

Expect the best

Expectations. Are they hopeful illusions force fed to the mind or pre-warmed up blankets covering reality? Either way they are needed as much as oxygen to our lungs otherwise we suffocate through life.

Some say it’s best not to expect anything so that you don’t get to experience the darkness of disappointment. The hollow space that we all try to navigate away from: seeking alternative routes and strictly keeping our eyes on the destination. One wrong turn, one incompetent driver or simply one fault with the engine will result in crashing right into this unwanted place. It surely is high risk but without it we don’t have the map – and no, I’m not talking about life. No one will give you a map of your life. We all draw ours as we go, however I prefer to make mine to be more like a treasure hunt. And I’m sure you do too because every second that we get to have is worth more than any diamonds and gold.

Every moment you experience whether to be painful or pleasant is a gift that you should treasure because it becomes a tiny puzzle piece that will build YOU. So cherish it and keep your expectations but let them become your motivation. And when someone drives you off your route just kick them out of the driving seat and take the wheel.

Remember: you will not deliberately disappoint yourself but others might do that for you. Have your expectations based on yourself and don’t rely on anyone else to control your emotions. It’s all in your hands and THAT is your map.

Face with clocks

Twenty – four

We travel through our lives every day. Some of us get on a delayed train, some get stuck at a red light in our cars and some just sit on the sofa flicking through all the international channels while staring at the shiny illusion on the wall (you might call it the TV). We seem to have forgotten how to sit still and take pleasure of it. Not out of boredom, not because we’ve been told to do it but purely because we desire it. We spend hours chasing after routines, giving in to habits and choosing the easy option of following the crowd.

Then we spend about a third of our day earning money so that we can buy all the things that we don’t need but must possess. Things that we firmly believe will make us feel happy. And in fact they do have that effect on us for a few minutes, hours or depending on the purchase maybe days. Never years though. We never get the same excitement that we feel when ripping the packaging open. So we go and get our things and then carry on with our routine. And when the end of the day arrives we take a look back and say something like “such a busy day” or “I still have to do this tomorrow”.

Those 24 hours are nothing but a sample sized life. Make yours exciting. Stop the excuses.

Cajamarca, Peru

Peru will kill me – opening scene

Someone must be coming to help me. The locals, they live so close. They must have noticed the blood stains out there. Why is no one coming yet? If this happened in Bogotá I would already be discharged from hospital.  But this is Peru. Stay focused, don’t pass out, someone is coming. Peru but where exactly, what’s this tiny village called? Caja…Cajamerba… Cajamarca? Focus. What I can remember…what I can… is that it was a hot sunny day today. It’s still too hot. I remember… watching the sweat steaming off Diego’s back as he dragged me to this cave. Why was he dragging me? I need to sleep. No! Stay awake, they’re coming.

Jake tried to curl up to ease the pain in his stomach but his muscles declined the brain’s order. That burning pain wouldn’t back down; he assumed that a red hot iron had been sewn into his stomach. He could see a blacksmith smirking at him from the darker end of the cave. Jake was educated enough to know what these hallucinations meant. He was wishing not to be a smart teacher right now but one of the villagers. That case he could play along with his mind’s tricks and have a conversation with the smirking blacksmith. Deciding to ignore his unwanted cave guest his hand reached for his stomach for a reality check. Wrong decision. Panic starts creeping into his mind now as the half dried blood covers his fingers. It must have been a few hours since Diego left him here. The blood is cooling down but still streaming down his sides.

Why is no one coming yet? This is not Bogotá, this is Caja…Cajadra… Diego! I knew you would come back. I need to…

Jake couldn’t force his eyes to stay open anymore. He felt his wounded body lifting of the ground as his hero grabbed him but when the cool air filled his lungs he managed to sneak a quick look at the blacksmith they left in the cave.

Look who’s laughing now?

Eyes back to shut position. Though Jake’s mind hasn’t given up on its tricks just yet. As he was being carried to safety he could feel the heat spreading from his stomach to his head. The smell of his own blood mixed with sweat kept dragging him back to reality alarming his system that something was wrong. It was hard for him to decide if that stomach pain was from his wound or if it was a reaction to this worried state of mind. If he could only open his eyes to see his surroundings his mind would have made its peace and Jake could be focusing only on the wound.

He would see orange lights coming from the little village houses that had to have either red or grey roofs. It seemed like this was an unwritten rule in the community. None of them had gates but animals were sleeping at the back of the buildings. The graphite coloured sky proudly showcased all the stars that normally hide behind city clouds. As the half Moon lit up the valley the outline of the nearby hills created a perfect illusion of guarding gates. It would have reminded him of those pictures he used to cut out from magazines to daydream about visiting Peru. Instead he was unconscious by now and being carried into one of the little houses. It had a grey roof.