! This post was written long ago. What you're reading is not necessarily how I feel about things in 2017. This blog was started by an 18-year-old in 2001. Please, keep that in mind before you freak out.

Hold on, this is going to be a long story. It's been lying heavy on my heart for 2 years and it's time to let it out, as I found the solution, I found the key.

This p... was written back in December 2007, just like it says on its scan, which was done to show my cyrillic-reading friends that I do make some minor errors when writing and the reason they were not corrected in this case is because I used to think this piece of writing was worthless. As far as I can see from my own liner notes, this was the second-to-last p...in the series of the poems which started out by addressing a friend whose priorites in life are different, who's sometimes diplomatic to the point where it's ridiculous and telling them all the things I had no balls to tell them in one-to-one conversations...and ended as a rant against many things that are wrong with the world and popular culture, having nothing to do with my friend anymore.

It all started on 24th August 2007, when I spoke to a friend - let's call her red - and took offense at how something that happened to a friend of hers that day (a random phishing scam or something like that) mattered more than my freaky story of how a spy plane was targetting our car in April 1999. On many occasions that followed, these little observations turned into something more global - my own little rant against commercialisation of everything, consumerism and ranks in the society.

A couple of weeks later, I wrote "Pita sa jabukama" (Apple Pie), inspired by the same two people. It was a warm September evening and the red friend was chatting to me and they had that friend of theirs next to them which I was uncomfortable with, so I politely asked if the person is actually reading this, as they're male and I was about to write some girls' only things. The conversation was, at that point in life, notorious to me for my attempts to say that my father had made a delicious apple pie and that, if I could, I would gladly hand a slice to both of them through MSN, as it's the best pie dad's ever made and it makes me happy.

As the summer turned to autumn, this series continued with Jaruga (Ravine), which had these two people in the background and another friend's what-if-we regarding the male in the story as the plot - I will only call that friend pink. A couple of weeks later, pink foud the man of her life and I often think my writing predicted it...let's say that she fell through the ravine to another place where someone was waiting for her all her life or that, well, the ravine catapulted her back to some great heights.

Then there were Mat (Matté), 331 and Peppermint Polymer where all these three people were already drifting away as protagonists and something more global was becoming the subject of the entire series. This trend was barely interrupted, with Ono drvo (That tree, Quell'albero), one of my best pieces ever, where I'm expressing all of my despair towards the friend's approach to me, my feelings and thoughts.

The whole series ends with my rage towards both of the females involved, where the pink one literally told me off and the red one never really said it, but "supported what the other person said", which was actually more painful, as it was exactly what I didn't want - the political correctness against of honest rage. That was the night half of the things in my bedroom ended on the floor, and I ended up on the floor, with a quite paralysing headache for the third and last time that year, all three occuring in 2007. When mom, dad and wonderful Miki managed to make me feel better, I sat down and wrote Tamo (There), the piece I'll share with the world today. There was one more written afterwards, title Oni (They), but this is the strongest one of the series, in my opinion.

That night was also the last time in my life that I totally lost control. I had one unpleasant emotional outburst in 2008 and one this year, but compared to this, they were nothing and they were both caused by work-related reasons, either way.

Two years later, I'm quite good with the pink friend (even in situations when they do the Mira-like things). The red friend and I still have come communication trouble, mostly on my behalf, as I see them as super-selective and not attached to me as (I thought) they used to be earlier in this decade, when I literally needed them to live, when I literally needed them to tell me good night and good morning, as I felt like I had nobody else in the world. I like to assume that there was the time I was stronger with them and that now it's the time I'm stronger without them and that we'll always be friends, just not the kind of friends who need to be attached to each other like a couple. That's what happened to me, that's what happened to us. One day, we'll be sharing a cake together. May it be soon.

And what happened with the friend of a friend? They are currently...in the best possible and worst possible situation ever, at least from my point of view. It's a dream come true and a nightmare come true at once. If I was interested in any communication with them - and I'm obviously not, even though they were supposed to do a favour to me back in '07 which I rejected and they did a big favour to me in '08 when a bunch of monsters attacked a DEAD person - I would've probably told them: "Good luck, you will need it!" I doubt they will end up in any of my writings again, though one never knows.

Needless to say, I never felt like publishing any of the writings from this series, as they're something that might be missread and given that everyone involved is a part of some pseudo-circle, I felt like the story that inspired this whole series might lead to a lot of uncomfortable situations, despite the fact that it mostly revolves around a couple of slices of apple pie. I felt like it would have become one of the things that are best left private.

But not anymore. It's time for it to fall off the tree and compost itself. Some of these pieces have a value other than what was going on between my friends and myself. A more global value. What, or WHO triggered it?

Well, in this story, there's also a friend of friend's friend (if you want it even more complicated, they're also a super-close relative of another friend) whose "fault" is also the fact that my friends and I actually ever met and became friends. They inspired me to dig this out and it's not the first time something like this has happened. Last week, they wrote something that made everyone frown, yet it made me smile. I thought of how similar to Tamo it is and how the things I said in Tamo, might not only be something that's expressed by angry PMDD'ing females in countries in tradition...but perhaps something that's an ill trend that needs to end someday. The world needs more sincerity, more dedication, more people picking the right way when they get to the fork in the road. Otherwise, there'll be too many doctors who don't care about a human life, many teachers who don't feel responsible for the children they teach, many artists being like wind-up mechanical animals. And that is just wrong. For the first time ever, I'm glad that my cause isn't just my cause. Now, when I look around, I bet I'll find many people who feel the same.

In this whole situation, the friend of these friends was a completely innocent trigger of my condition, both of the friends were my inspiration and the friend of their friend's friend...was the breeze that led the tree of this whole story to being planted and the late autumn wind storm that made these leaves fall down to the ground and end up here. A bit...a bit like Bosco Daiboken, the only anime I ever liked.


Tamo gde se krećem, Sunce je kugla na nebu
i pojavljuje se kad mu se to ćefne,
nema zakonsku obavezu da izlazi,
niti da uvek greje i obasjava.

Tamo kuda idem, ljudi žive iza zavesa,
nemaju nameru da budu ispred njih,
nisu im potrebni kostimi, niti maske,
i neće uvek prihvatiti aplauz kao isren čin.

Tamo gde me vučeš, u bajkama nema zlotvora,
a svaki veseljak drži nož iza leđa,
ljubav dominira, ali samo na rečima,
ranjene životinje se bacaju sa ivice ponora.

Tamo gde me tražiš, ja nisam nikad ni bila,
postojim negde gde nije baš sve od šećera,
snove kao što su tvoji ja nikad nisam ni snila,
i ne želim da završim kao nečija večera.


There, where I'm at, the Sun is a disc in the sky
And it's coming out whenever it feels like it,
it isn't obliged by law to appear,
and neither to always heat and shine.

There, where I'm going, people are behind curtains,
they have no intensions of standing in front of them,
they don't need costumes, they don't need masks,
they won't bow after every single applause received.

There, where you drag me to, nobody's evil in fairy-tales,
yet each happy-go-lucky has a knife behind their backs,
love reigns it all, but only as far as words are concerned,
wounded animals are thrown down from the edge of a ravine.

There, where you look for me, I have actually never been to,
I'm somewhere where not so many things were made out of sugar,
Dreams like yours...no, I have never had them, I'm positive,
And I don't want to end up as someone's dinner.

P.S. Many thanks to Gizem for provoking me to do this as well. And hey, she's the only person mentioned by name in this entry.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.