Nea Kris

Let the pain flow


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Happy Birthday


Happy Birthday to me!
One more year around.
Merry day, but why no laughs?
Why it is dark in the room?

No, there is no surprise party.
Only lonely gluten free cake.
This is first time without you,
Since I came to USA.

One more year older,
And dozen times more depressed.
Each year is more terrifying.
What does future hold for me?

Happy Birthday to you!
Of course now you can
Blow all candles at once,
But your wish will not come true.

 

Funny, how many times my birthday was a very sad day. My 25th birthday was probably the best, but it was more of an exception (wild ire still wanted to ruin everything though). Last year on my birthday my boyfriend (ex *cough*) forgot to get me flowers or present, but while we were celebrating, he locked himself in the bathroom and was talking to his new love, because she demanded attention. Next day we went to the restaurant with my parents, and right before they came, I realized that he for real has another girl. However, we had registration, I didn’t want to let down my parents, so for the rest of the evening I had to pretend that everything is alright, until we came home and I asked “no point to lie now. You have somebody else, don’t you?”
I hate my birthdays. Just a reminded of the fact that I am a terrible failure, which is getting close to the end of the life, without any real success.  And what is your most hated yearly holiday/day?



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Puzzle in the darkness

Candles in the room, but corners are pitch black. I don’t care about dark corners, I am not afraid of the darkness anymore. My fingers are shivering. My tongue mumbles words. My eyes see hope, but I’ve heard that I am insane.
My fingers picking and putting pieces together, they are smeared in blood. Red color on my fingers – juice of life. Every tiny piece I pick and try to find a right place to fit it. My new hobby is a bloody puzzle! I laugh in the dark at my joke. Probably that is why they say that I am insane, but I am not. I am looking for redemption, I am looking for salvation. I am Doctor Frankenstein of myself! Piece by piece, I assembly bloody puzzle of my heart. I want it back! Then, in the light of candles I carefully put it in my chest and sew up the open wound. I scream of pain, but I laugh because my plan works! I will be alive again! My heart will be restored and beat in my scarred body. I will not let anyone to steal it again. Not anymore.


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Page Five. Tommy. 

Tommy’s stomach growled again, reminding him that he skipped his dinner. He looked through the window and it already was getting dark. Of course, it was only 6:10 p.m., but it also was November. Tommy wasn’t afraid to go outside alone, when it was dark. He was one of those lost souls on the streets, even though he had some money hidden under the wooden floor, but inside he was as empty, so he never was assaulted.

Usually he had ten-dollar bill on him for his dinner (and leftovers for his lunch), but tonight he grabbed twenty. Tonight, he felt different, so while he was walking on the street, to reach the “downtown”, he rushed. Tonight, he felt like he didn’t belong to these dark streets with suspicious individuals here and there. Was he worried about twenty dollars, or the diary under his jacket? Finally, fifteen minutes later, he got to the streets with better lights. Sometimes he came here during the day, but never during the evening. Now he saw more couples walking around, holding their hands and more “normal” people in general. Movie theater with dozens of bright light bulbs was showing this new movie, which he actually wanted to see, but he had no one to go with him and he never considered going there alone. Tommy spent one more second to look around. It didn’t happen to him often, but sometimes, as well as right now, he wanted to be part of this world and not the dark “underground” that he left behind.

It was a bad idea to start dinner with desert, but Tommy didn’t care. He walked into a “Yogy-Frozy”. The guy inside was cleaning tables. He gave a quick smile and a small nod to Tommy and then came back to his duties. Surprisingly nice, that he wasn’t following him around with suspicion that he would steal something. Tommy met this attitude very often, probably because his clothes were old and didn’t look neat. Soon after, Tommy was sitting at the table, eating frozen yogurt, enjoying it. When was the last time when he treated himself like that? Probably never since he left his house. He found a pistachio flavor, his mom’s favorite, as he remembered and ate the whole thing with some nuts and fruits. The girl was right, it tasted great.
Tommy opened a diary and tried to find a next page, after the yogurt story. He didn’t feel so insecure to read it “on pubic” anymore. He was the only one visitor here anyway. Looked like the girl tried to write, but she crossed everything out (I tried… We talked…). Next entry was dated almost seven months later! Tommy’s heart started to pound faster. He knew that girl was in trouble, but now when he was getting closer to it, it made him worry.
I can’t believe that it turned out to be like this… what am I now?… 


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Ghost of memories


So sunny outside.
I am enjoying the warmness.
Remember this plaza?
I am drinking coffee…
Alone…

I see a ghost of memories.
I see me and you, but now you are somewhere else.
You are alive and you are happy, I guess.
You left me behind, as a reminder of the dreadful past.

And now I am alone in this dark place.
I hate you, because you escaped.
I am happy for you, it is your turn to be happy.
Isn’t it what love is about?

I take one more sip and smile to the sun.
Wounded, crippled, doomed, but I am alive.
I hate to know that you knew it!
You left because you knew I will survive…
But did you know at what price?

 


 


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Pain can’t be killed

– Can I die? – young girl asked quietly.

She looked down on her thin arm. Through the pale skin she could see blue veins. Seemed that they were so close; seemed that if she would cut just a little bit, she would reach them; and then all her pain and fears would float away, within warm, red river. Her gaze slid up.

– Can I die? – she asked again, but this time louder, with eyes full of determination. Her interlocutor remained silence. Then he sighed.

– Yes, silly girl, you can die… but there is more to life, than just pain and fears. However, life is full of pain and disappointments. You should know, that if you will run away from your pain, you might rest in peace, but everyone else who is close to you won’t. Paint never goes away, little girl. You can escape it, but you can’t kill it. By your escape, you will share you pain with everyone who cares about you. That is the curse of the pain, that is unfairness of the life. Are you ready to do this to your friends and family? – he asked. A shiny blade showed up in his palm. He reached out to the girl with this blade…and tears slid down her pale cheeks. She looked at the blade and cried. This cry was full mortification and she couldn’t keep quiet. She howled and closed her eyes with small palms. This was so unfair! She had to live, she had to suffer, because pain never can be killed…