The real purpose of the heart

From early age I was thought that human's heart shape is equal to long circle. The heart is a muscle who makes 8000 litres of blood everyday. Heart has got two sides, in those two sides it makes some moves in every 4/5 second that blood could go in the right places. The heart is a muscle, so it's impossible to feel the pain in it. But I have never really believed it. They all were wrong. Terribly wrong. And everytime I feel the pain in my heart I am sure that I was learnt wrong. You know that feeling when you want to breath very deeply? You start to breathe deeper and deeper and suddenly you feel pain in your heart and you have to stop doing it... Or when you just feel so sad that it looks that someone is pulling into your heart the knife. Or when you expect from someone something and they just betray you... You feel dissapointed, your heart is just bleeding. In those moments I am sure that I was thought wrong. In those moments I think about every pain in my heart, which I felt during all my life and I also think of those who felt more pain than me. I think of those who had a heart attack. I can't even imagine what kind of pain they have felt... First their left arm start to get colder and colder, later it starts to melt inside; then head starts to ache with the pain that can not be described in any of the word, but if someone would write those words to explain the pain... It probably would burn this paper sheet. After that they finally feel the heart ache... The most terrible, most frustrating, exhausting, making them shout or scream and at the end of all those pains they finally feel how they are out of the oxygen, how they can not breath, nor shout, nor scream... In those moments when I think of it, I understand that I was wrong all my life...

Clumsy

What I can say. I am living my life. I make mistakes as often as I can. I fall down usually. I hurt people. I am clumsy. I fall down really often. I loose my control. But I always able to stand up and walk again. Step by step. You know, good writers are saying that if you want to be a good writer, you need to write about what you think you are good in. And what if I am good at nothing? I have to write about nothing? I do not know what I want from my life. I do not know what the life had prepared to me. From the little age, probably it will sound so funny... From the little age I was clumsy. I was clumsy more physically. My parents avoid to buy dishes, which are made from glass, because in one day I was able to break about 2 or 3 dishes or cups. I didn't want that. I did it accidentally. I used to be full of energy. I used to be little chubby so I had to be clumsy. I fall down from the bicycle. I fall down while I was running. I fall down. I just used to walk like that. I used to be like that. I am like that. I am clumsy. Now when I grew up a bit, I am less clumsy. Now I am more clumsy with my minds. I hurt people a lot. I am emotional person. I say everything what I feel. And it takes about a day or two to understand that I just made a mistake. But when I start to think. I am thinking a lot. I am always thinking a lot. I am talking a lot too. But if I would be able to talk as much as I think, I probably make people bored soon. I love to get long letters and read other people thoughts. I like when people share their feelings and thoughts with me. It makes me feel like a part of their life. I feel good if I can help people. Even though I am more clumsy.

Dark dark sky

The night is peaceful. The most peaceful night I have ever seen before. Even the stars are more silent than they used to be. Little by little, small and elegant snowflakes are falling on the dirty ground. The nature is sleeping. But I can not sleep. This time of the year I used to wake up without any reason and listen to the sounds of the house. It may take just a moment. But I like to listen to that sounds. Every dust has got it's own sound. I am listening to the sound of the walls. It has got so much to tell! Suddenly I open my curtains,. I look into the dark sky. Sky is dark dark blue. The stars are so silent, it looks like they do not want to disturb our sleep. To disturb the magic silence of the night. I am looking to the sky and thinking: what if somewhere far far away, someone is looking at the same sky with the same minds as I do? What if that person likes to listen to the sounds of the house and likes to think about the things? What if there is a person who wakes up at night, because he has no time to think about the things during the day? And maybe that person is glad too, because he knows that somewhere far far away, there is one person who is looking at the same dark sky, at the same bright stars and is listening to the sounds of the house.

The missing feeling

How often can you miss someone? How times per day do you miss the person? Why the people who you miss the most are used to miss you the least? Did you ever felt the "miss" feeling? When you want to see the person, the feeling when you want to climb on the ceilings from the pain. That feeling when you know that there is no opportunity to see that person. Personally, I miss people a lot. There are two types of  "miss" feeling. First is when you miss the person very very much and you feel just terrible, it is when you do not want to eat, when you do not want to do anything, when you are waiting for somebody, but nobody comes- that's just terrible! Second type is when you miss the person, but you miss in a good way. When you can miss the person with the memories about that person- it is a pleasant "miss" feeling. That feeling gives you a hope that you will meet someday with that person, but till that time you have to wait a bit. Even though, you know that one or two months is not a bit if you are feeling the first type of "miss" feeling, but for the second type of this feeling it is just a moment. Per month or two months, you will not got colder, even though it would be a cold cold winter, because people who have memories, well, they never feel coldness. Also the people who are used to miss people in the second type of this feeling. They never feel alone. They never feel coldness. I feel cold. I used to feel the first type of this feeling. I miss almost all people with that sad form of missing. People are saying: 'What you can not change, it is not necessary to be sad about.' Yes, it is not necessary to be sad about. It is better do not think of anything...

I am just fine

I am just fine. Just my lungs do not want to breathe anymore. Just my heart do not want to beat anymore... Just my soul is lost somehwere. My soul is lost and I do not know where I could find it. My brains do not want to think. My brains do not want to create minds anymore... I am okey. I am healthy. I am happy. Am I happy? Do not know. I am sure about that. My lungs, heart, soul, brains do not want to functionate... But personally, I want to live. I want to live with my eyes, because my eyes want to see everything: every colour, every letter, every smile- everything. I want to live, because my ears do want to listen all the birds, all the butterflies wings, all the morning greetings- everything. My legs want to walk, to jump, to run- to do everything. I still want to scream from the happiness when I see person, who I like. I would like to say something nice to my enemies. I am fine. Just as I said, my soul is lost somewhere. Or maybe, it's just hiding somewhere?

Walk, just do not stop

I clearly felt as I am dying. I was to weak to fight. From the last pieces of the powers I tried. But suddenly after a wave of pain I was almost unconscious. I was tired, weak, I had nothing left. "Hope, that little thing, what is that?" I thought. All that time I was making myself little bit calm with the words "It will end soon". But the pain didn't let me to go. The pain didn't want to let me go. To let me go for a rest. For a rest of peace. After a period of the time, I finally understood that nothing will happen good. So I gave up. I gave up and waited for the worst. I do not know why it happened to me. I didn't ask for that. You are waiting for the answer... I can say just one: I do not know... I could felt clearly, that my blood in the veins isn't rushing anymore. It becomes slower. Slower... It almost stops. I had nothing to loose now. My heart beats were more silently than a rays of the sun. I couldn't breath. My arms started to freeze. My legs started to freeze. My nose was cold. And that last moment I understood, that I have to live, I have to take all my powers to survive. I breathed more deeply than I ever breathed. I stood up and started to walk: step-by-step. In my head were just one mind: "To survive". I have to take the last powers. This is not the end. No. My soul is still shouting: "Walk, just do not stop!" My soul is still shouting! I walked. I didn't stopped. I am alive. I am alive! Thank you God! You are wonderful! I love you!

I am wondering... Do the butterflies go to sleep sometimes? Do they dream often? If yes, what they dream about? Do they sometimes dream that they are falling? If yes, from how much metres from the ground? I am wondering do the butterflies sometimes wonder about the future? When I was little my parents didn't let me to touch the butterflie's back. They were saying that if I will touch the butterfly's back, it will die. The butterfly will die. So I didn't touch it. I just loved to look how they spread those colourful wings, and how they fly so easily and with a lot of elegancy. The friend of my family all her life, was making a postcards with dead butterflies. She catched the butterfly, put it in the jar and somehow it died. Later the same butterfly somehow appeared in the postcard which was sent to us. I couldn't believe my eyes. That wings, full elegancy were like made from the stone. And I start to wonder, that the life of the butterflies is so unfair! Someone, somehow puts you into the jar and you can't breath. You die- just for one reason: because you are original. Just for one purpose, because someone wants to make the other person "happy" with a postcard. Now you are on the postcard and you are sent to somewhere. You fly to somewhere, but now, not with your own wings. Now your wings are like stone. And I am still wondering, do the butterflies feel pain? Do they have another life? Or if the butterfly was good all its life, does after the death it goes to the heaven? Does the butterfy has got a choice to go to heaven or to hell? I am wondering. For just one reason poor butterfly dies. It's eyes closed up until forever. What is it feeling when catches last gramme of the oxygen? What it feels? It's lungs can't catch any air. It's brains can't get enough of oxygen. It's hearts stops. I am wondering, if the butterfly is crying then. Or if it just close it's eyes until forever? With no hope to wake up... With no little, shinny hope to wake up. With nothing. . .