sad

there's an empty space inside my heart ......................................................

do what you want, do what you want

I will shrink and I will disappear

i drink my milk in the morning. alone.

i realised that i am living in the empty house. no one to hug.
i kissed my cat. that wake her up. 

m o

“I didn’t feel like I was in my own body; my body was just a lonely, temporary container I happened to be borrowing.” 

"Sometimes I get real lonely sleeping with you."

And I can’t face the evening straight
You can’t offer me escape
Houses move and houses speak

Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.

“She waited for the train to pass. Then she said, “I sometimes think that people’s hearts are like deep wells. Nobody knows what’s at the bottom. All you can do is imagine by what comes floating to the surface every once in a while.”
— Haruki Murakami, Blind Willow Sleeping Woman 

dok su igrali

Pitao me što sam tužna, odgovorila sam mu: Knjiga koju bih sad žarko čitala, nije tu.

you cannot follow me.

I am the distance you put between 
all of the moments that we will be.

"Judge not; speak hardly at all; love and act."

"They are without fears and without desires, dominated by no falsehood, sharing no error, loving without illusion, suffering without impatience, reposing in the quietude of eternal thought..... a Magus cannot be ignorant, for magic implies superiority, mastership, majority, and majority signifies emancipation by knowledge. The Magus welcomes pleasure, accepts wealth, deserves honour, but is never the slave of one of them; he knows how to be poor, to abstain, and to suffer; he endures oblivion willingly because he is lord of his own happiness, and expects or fears nothing from the caprice of fortune. He can love without being beloved; he can create imperishable treasures, and exalt himself above the level of honours or the prizes of the lottery. He possesses that which he seeks, namely, profound peace. He regrets nothing which must end, but remembers with satisfaction that he has met with good in all. His hope is a certitude, for he knows that good is eternal and evil transitory. He enjoys solitude, but does not fly the society of man; he is a child with children, joyous with the young, staid with the old, patient with the foolish, happy with the wise. He smiles with all who smile, and mourns with all who weep; applauding strength, he is yet indulgent to weakness; offending no one, he has himself no need to pardon, for he never thinks himself offended; he pities those who misconceive him, and seeks an opportunity to serve them; by the force of kindness only does he avenge himself on the ungrateful..."

G

Više se ne bojim ni života, ni smrti,
Samo bih, pre nego sto odem,
Da neke lepe stvari za sobom ostavim.
Kad zaklopim umorne oči,
Na ovu ljudsku tugu da zaboravim
I miran u oblak zakoračim.

Ono sto ce uvek da me tišti:
Što znam da sve bolje moglo je...
Normalnom čoveku malo potrebno je.

Ali ne, ne, ne...
Neko je rešio da otme sve.
Da i za to malo pogineš,
Da te kao šraf u ludilo zavrte,
Iz dana u dan...
Kost po kost.
Iz dana u dan,
Kost po kost.

Ja znam da sam pobedio,
Jer i posle svega nikoga ne mrzim
I nikoga ni za šta ne jurim.
Žao mi je samo sto neke ljude
Nisam voleo više.

Ali biće 365 dana:
Proleće, leto, jesen i zima...
I da li se tome radujem?
Pa, moram.
Zašto da ne uzmem to što mi se daje?
Ionako kad dođe - došlo je,
Kad prođe - prošlo je.

I srešću ja tebe opet,
Te tvoje oči i miris,
I ovog puta ostajem do kraja.
Kad se ujutru probudim
Ti ćes mirno pored mene da spavaš.
A ne znam da li je nesto lepše,
Od tebe i mene...
Na živoj slici uhvaćeno vreme.

Ni sada ne znam zašto se nisam
Prepustio, popustio,
Ni sada ne znam
Zašto sam više
Sa svojim demonima pio,
U svojoj rupi se krio...
Prokletstvo, sećam se svega...
I boli, al' moram da idem dalje,
Da se borim za bolje dane.

Više se ne bojim ni života, ni smrti,
Više se ne bojim ni života, ni smrti.

Stojim sam na ovoj planini,
I čekam svoje vreme,
Da jos neki krik zavrtim... 

Find me now. Before someone else does.

You can’t tell anything from photographs. They’re just a shadow. The real me is far away. That won’t show up in a picture.

Haruki Murakami - South of the Border, West of the Sun