The Doll And The Soul

 

She was standing still there on display of the big shop windows and watched the people passing by – some of them smiled, others cried and some of them with the concerned and worried faces. She was longing to feel the sweetness of the soul. She was watching people day after day and her desires grew bigger. As for her face, it remained porcelain white, expressionless and cold. People kept passing her by because of her abnormal beauty.

These routine days were endless until one day a small girl stopped in front of the window and stared at her – dark-haired, fare face with big sad emerald green eyes, torn clothes and dirty small hands. The small girl looked and smiled. Her dream was to look like the doll – slender body, shiny dress and transparent glass-like slippers – just like a princess from the fairy tales. She was smitten by the doll’s flawless face. She looked at the price knowingly that she cannot afford this beautiful doll and at the moment she realized that she could never have it, tears kept on rolling her innocent face. She had the feeling that the doll’s piercing blue eyes stared at her but they were empty, lacking compassion or any emotions, beautiful drownings but just that. And just like that the girl left.

Suddenly the doll felt pain as if a wooden steak went through her plastic ribcage.  She thought what was this feeling. She had never felt anything before and she was puzzled of the sudden change of her boring and predictable days. During the next couple of days, the little girl kept coming to visit her and to admire of her plastic beauty. A month passed by and the girl finally came with enough money to buy this dream toy. And she bought it.

The moment she went out of the shop, the girl smiled with a bright face and huge smile. Her green eyes looked even brighter on the sun. She could hear the music in her ears and she happily skipped to the park and sat on a bench. There was a cardboard covered in black plastic bags next to the bench. The little girl sat on the bench holding tightly the doll in her tiny hands admiring the sunny day. and out of nowhere, the doll spoke with a human voice:

-        What is the feeling of having a soul? How does it feel to love and hate? How does it feel to be happy and sad?

Surprisingly, the doll had picked the human language while they were passing by the store or they entered in and shopped for gifts. These words were meaningless to her but she was curious of their meaning. Then the little girl answered with a heavy voice:

-        My name is Lilly and you don’t want to have a soul. You don’t really want to feel what is love or hate; you don’t want to feel what I am feeling right now. However, I can tell you what is to feel hunger and what is to feel well fed, what is sadness and what is happiness. I can tell you everything.

The doll was excited and shook her head agreeing to hear everything. Then Lilly continued:

-        I had everything a child could wish for – a home – beautiful big house with tons of rooms, a family devoted to me and making sure that I feel secure and carefree. But then Dolly, I am calling you Dolly, then the life changed its course and took everything I have hold dear. The fire broke and burned down my home and everyone in it. When I returned to my home I only found ashes and nothingness. I was placed in one of those orphanages where children without families live. But I hated it and I escaped. I chose to live here, next to this bench begging for food and money, not knowing what the next day is holding for me; not knowing if I am going to survive the night or not. I am constantly mocked by the other people, those who have all they need. When the nights are cold, I am shivering and wondering if I can make it through the next day or not. But the worst pain of all is that I don’t have anyone to talk to, to share, to feel secure with, to relive the carefree days oblivious about any misfortune on the world – just be back to those happy days. However, days passed and I lost my hope for better life. I guess it is what it is.

-        What is Hope, Lilly? I have never heard about it.

-        Hope is this little thing keeping us alive. When it’s hard, the Hope grows bigger and it dies alongside our last dream departure. The hope gives us strength to face our fears and push through the worst moments in our lives. Unfortunately, our lives are not like the stories from the books – sometimes we don’t get our happily ever after, all we get is endless desperation and sadness.

Once those words went out of the child’s mouth, she started crying. The pain came back; the warm memories overtook for a while but the harsh reality caught up and took the hopes away.

-        I want to possess a soul! – the doll exclaimed, touched by the wisdom of the girl. – I want to be just like you – to feel, to dream, to love and to feel sad. I want to buy the soul but I don’t know where I can purchase it. I really want it.

Lilly looked at her confused and amazed at the same time. She didn’t understand neither how a doll can talk nor the passion and the desire to become a fragile human. She was puzzled how a toy can be so thrilled for things that it can fathom.

The day was over and the night sky was up. Lilly was tired from this day’s interesting turn. She got in the “house” and laid her head on the makeshift pillow, she covered herself and the doll with the old and dirty blanket and fell peacefully asleep. Then Dolly got up on her perfect legs and went out of the cardboard house and started walking through the dark alleys of the park. She saw a bench, climbed up and sat on it. She stared at the bright night sky and kept thinking about the soul and how wonderful it would have been to have one. She was tired of how people looked at her – a beautiful addition to every girl’s room. While she was thinking about it, a falling star appeared on the sky. She had come to the knowledge that if you see falling star and you wish for something, it will become true.

…

Lilly woke up on the next day. She couldn’t find the doll and her eyes were full of tears, her heath sank – she was alone, again. Even though she had Dolly for a day, she missed her – the first meaningful friend in such a long time. She felt the time spent with the doll as a small glimpse of light during the blackness of the moonless night – it appears once and never to return again. In the meantime, the plastic beauty was laying beneath the bench – covered in dirt and abandoned -  still hoping to buy a soul more than anything in this world.

Fairytale Gone Bad

 

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?”

This question echoes in our minds starting the constant comparison

Between me and them – whoever, I find as completion for the current situation.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?”

I can translate it to my life of race with a different time lines, all of them not mine.

Nothing is enough, I need to push through a bit more,

The finish line is near; I need to compete.

…

The life of constant marathon is so extremely tiresome,

My head can’t stand the quiet room – I need this done.

Define what is the end game of all these pushes,

Define your goal – you can’t, your mind is wired this way – so as mine.

Unable to sit and doing nothing, seeking for the adrenaline,

Generation taught to never get some rest,

We walk in our daily life aimless and lost,

Because our parents never showed us the importance of slowing down

Before the final push is on our way.

And I roam the streets stressed and exhausted,

I am feeling guilty that I won’t be able to take the first place.

…

Life of not taking it easy is a dangerous path,

Depression and anxiety are always present,

My companions from the early days when I have heard the words

That Evil Queen has been asking herself – perfection is set to be achieved.

And unlike most little children I have felt for the Queen,

That all her efforts were in vain.

But the life is not a fairytale – stop teaching your children

That the good should always prevail – what is actually the ultimate Good.

I have heard the villains are heroes never saved, never understood.

The real life is not so simple, what about the Evil Queen?

Have you really known the real ending of story?

The Queen was tortured by the so soft and gentle Snow White – the sweetest heroine.

And just like the Evil Queen I am constantly portrait like I am villain,

Simply because I know what is what I want.

And just like her I pursue my goals, I love my career,

And just like her I am so cold-hearted – determined is what I would describe it.

And just like her I am vilified that I don’t fit the mold forged

By those who try to overpower the determination of the woman’s mind.

…

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?”

I am the one, my sweet reflection, never doubt your own reality.

We are the queens and kings in our own misfortunes,

As well as we are the Queens and Kings of our own fulfilled dreams.

Display of Pain

 

Let’s begin from where we ended it the last time,

Carefully forgotten our wounds and scars.

Let’s begin from where we ended it the last time,

Where there is no light, just endless darkness,

Where it poisons the soul, enhances the loneliness and kills the hope.

Let’s begin from where we ended it the last time,

Where everything ends and new beginning doesn’t exist.

….

The white reflection in the mirror blinds the eyes

And somehow bashful – reluctantly

The Blindness “clothes" us gently.

How does it look like the invisible image?

How does the suffering feels like? – Grey in color.

…

 Let’s begin from where we ended it the last time,

Carefully forgotten our wounds and scars.

We cover them with multiple masks and make-up,

We pretend we are on stage performing a world class act

And when the play is over, we realize how cruel we have become.

Where are we going to end up living in an endless denial

Of the monsters we have turned into

– a horror movie on the small screen?

…

And we are trapped in the old webs of delusion,

Refusing to admit the mistakes, we keep committing sins towards ourselves.

And we keep dismissing the chaos of our wrong doings,

As if we don’t exist in flesh and blood, as if we are an old painting

Hanging on the walls of these ancient castles

– The Gallery of Self-inflicted Pain!

Ghost from the Eternity

 

The dawn is gone leaving me with numerous thoughts.

Where should I start my new day in the search of a new beginning?

How to keep the calmness of the silence around me

When all I want is to scream drowned in fear?

How to conquer my fears when the sadness has become my best friend?

How to start a new, I have no idea, I am circling in the endless cycle

Of my own insecurities and unrest?

I don’t care how to survive; this is not my day nor the one after.

 …

I do remember what I have done to you, but I do remember your faults too,

However, the trails of your punishment are getting weaker, 

I am still under the influence of your charm.

How should I start my day – I am still lost in the memories.

The night is still here – full blown darkness, no starry sky.

I don’t care how to start this new day if my pride will be torn apart

By the shadows of an old life, even though I feel it as world from a far.

…

I really want to start my day running in the lush green grass,

To scream freely, to scream and to stop on the crossroad of the days passed

So that I can be able to see the wrong turn I made though someone else’s eyes.

But I can’t to pretend to be different – I am the dessert, harsh climate, cold nights,

The same feeling of nothingness that pushes me to feel like a guest,

Just visiting my core and soul – crushed, useless, as if my mind belongs to the emptiness

Of the dark shadows that roam my damaged consciousness.

…

I won’s give up on myself, no more, never again,

Yes, I am just like that – forgetful of my misfortune,

I am trying to leave my mark.

Dear darkness, don’t try to look for me, I am not your sanctuary.

I used to be the bright star of the night’s sky until you engulfed me.

Now I am transparent shadow – Ghost from the Eternity.

Silence!!!

 

-       Shut up!!!!

I didn’t realize when he shouted at me with the voice of a deadly wounded animal – so piercing, so exhausted, so scared. I was so used to his presence at this point so this scream made my whole body shiver. And I looked at him, but his neck was bent like an elegant black swan refusing to face his other half. What was he trying to hide? Why did he just scream and turn his head towards the wall. Was it so hard to cry in front of me and my egoistic nature, to stomp his foot and make me tremble like he did in the beginning?

But how does it feel to live with a selfish, narcissistic type of woman who never gives a single second of attention to anyone else, even her partner? How difficult is it to swallow one bitter moment after another, to fight for a lost cause and still find the strength to stand up? How gut wrenching is the insult after another selfish act without even thinking about the person next to you?

Maybe he couldn’t handle it. However, why did he look at me as a punishment for his long forgotten sins? Why did he keep staying with me after every hit I make? Is it true that the painful love teaches patience? Why did he keep saying that I am a natural disaster in a woman’s flesh? Or maybe the love is this tendency of making yourself invisible, losing your unique character so that you can blend in someone’s else life and molds you to become someone you are not – to keep you doing things you don’t like or you have never intended to in first place?

-        Shut up!!!

Again, his desperate groan crept behind me like a thief creeping invisible through the vail of the endless darkness. “I tried, I tried” – that's what I whispered, and with that whisper I deliberately hid my own never-ending disappointment from myself. 

So is this the ugly glorification of the suffering when people love each other but are not compatible? Do we really turn into those constantly bickering animals after the passion is no longer there? Do we really strive to become pitiful - like prisoners in a cozy cage and chained with invisible chains to keep feeding the misery and the chaos we have created? Do we really aim for this? Where is the happiness? Since when does the torment exalt us and make us heroes even though we keep living in our own emotional mud and shame? Where is the spark which we keep as a North Star in achieving our perfection? Should we forget about what our souls desire in order to live in boring harmony with those around us and slowly turning it into inner anarchy?

-       I want you to shut the fuck up!!!

After this last shriek he stood up and left. Finally!

Now only the silence speaks to me, only She understands our inner struggles – slaves of our own ambitions, successes and failures. Till this day I can’t figure out what drove him so insane and pushed him to abyss called emotional breakdown and aggression. I didn’t understand his answers anymore. And he has never come back. And I chose to remain silent and embrace the uneventful end of a doomed relationship – something I have never done before and I will never do again.

---

Some time has passed, the storm is long gone. The rotten memory of poisonous love and the attachment feelings are no longer present. The narcissistic traits that I have been told to possess never reappeared most probably because I don’t have them in my character. Nowadays, I think of him as if he is chimera which can’t bring me to neither smile nor cry.

-      Shut the fuck up! – I shouted in pain I have never felt before… And even today, I still don’t know why. 

Frostbitten

 

If you can’t fall in love with the coldness of the northern barren land,

Don’t ever dream of finding me – I am a frostbite.

I won’t be gentle like the warm summer land.

I am an angry blizzard, nothing can stop me,

I am millions of snowflakes – beautiful yet dangerously frigid.

If you go out in the middle of this storm,

You won’t stop shivering, it’s an iced place,

Your breath is stopping, your heartbeat’s getting slow.

…

There are sunny days and rainy days but they aren’t mine.

If you are used to the warmness of the spring or summer

This squall of mine is not your safe space.

Let’s not forget the thunderstorms of my soft mouth,

They are as scary as those outside when the sky is dark

And the only light you see is the lightning striking on the same place.

…

If you can’t fall in love with the coldness of the northern barren land,

Never show your face before me, you are not worthy

Of the complexity of such harsh ground.

Run, my gentle boy, run…

There isn’t any warmth left from the summer sun,

It is a frozen place long forgotten, extremely crude.

I am not a coast for lost weaklings,

Longing for a new beginnings and to find a new hope.

I am not the last stop for the cowards,

Aiming to be the new heroes written in those boring glorious songs.

I am the Monster who slays them and then leave them to freeze alone!

The Oldest Vow - Destruction

 

Tear me down like an old piece of clothing. I only feel alive when the pain is unbearing and rough. I love the way it hurts every part of mind and body. Make me suffer so deeply and when I gather all of me to feel different, new unfamiliar version of old self. What is coming after I reach the deepest end of losing all I am? I have never been there – the last straw, my breaking point. I want to experience this situation when my soul is only dust and ashes. Keep torturing me, this is my most sacred wish, don’t stop in the middle of the job – serve me right.

Why have you become so silent, so suddenly? Is there something wrong I have said? Is it so hard to be executioner I have been looking for? Why stopping now – it is almost done. Should I beg you every time a doubtful thought crosses your mind? You have said you can do it, you promised. Why now? Why?

Why are you bending your head as if it is a heavy basket which you need to carry for ages? Why are you so distant out of the blue? Is it my wording or the inability to understand that sometimes you need to kill what makes you YOU and then start to rebuild? Aren’t we the forgers of our own path, seeking creatives ways to destroy our weakness in order to gain our inner power? What is wrong; what have I done?

Look at me, tell me what I hate to hear; share your disdain towards my wishes. Tell me what monster I have become. Believe me, I can understand the judgement in your statements. I have been so in touch with what other want from me but I have failed to grasp what I really need, so please destroy me. Obliterate the light I have been carrying all my life and throw me into the deepest darkness so I can be reborn.

Do you want to know how much we are alike? The unwavering desire to fix those around you, the determination to follow what make you feel happy, the unstoppable willingness to change if something you perceive is wrong. But hear me out, I am tired, all these senses and thoughts are not serving my purpose. Just finish the job I gave you, just one last time and afterwards we are done.

Tear my soul down, burn my feelings like a witch at the stake – hear my screams. Annihilate the last drop of goodness in my heart and then you are free to go. Don’t dare to give me even a sliver of the kindness you possess; this is not what I am hoping for.

….

Like a phoenix, I am everything and nothing; old and new at the same time. You and I – old acquaintances bound by unbreakable vows, we keep destroying each other so that we grow and harvest our own potential. Unfortunately, after every kill one of us getting weaker until the inner strength is achieved. Like the sun and the moon, we are never in sync – one is pushing back and the other is playing God. I am sorry my old friend, I lied again. You are going to keep facing me until you realize that your greatest demise is to feel pity when you need to be cold-hearted if you really want to survive.

Can You Feel Her?

 

When did you ask yourself if you have really been supported by those you call loved ones? When was the last time you really look around and was unable to feel that odd feeling warning you for her return? When??? Why there isn’t any devilish sparkle in your eyes? Why are you so incapable of sensing this poisonous sensation? Are you really blind? Or maybe you have been looking for Her on purpose? What makes you lose yourself into her cold flames? Are you so desperate for Her numbing embrace?

Being the victim of your own self - absorbing pride and emotional disassociation is your true nature – no warmness in the voice – just anger; love or hate – it doesn’t matter to you. Just like everyone else but with the weakest will power – She is the one you can only obey. You let only her to dominate, to lead, to make you miserable. Ah, this misery- your most favourite state when She is closely breathing behind you to your neck -gentle icy breeze filled with the smell of cherry blossoms.

Have you ever thought about if we all can feel her when She is coming for us? Does She want her presence to be felt or Her agenda is make you feel safe and then to hit you like the big waves hit the shores of the smallest island? Does She want to torture us as if it is a simple game with the highest stake of being sane and alive? Have you ever loved her as if She is a real person, love deeper than the one you feel to those closest to you? Have you ever called Her in the middle of the night after having another “nightmare” of having a normal boring life? Has She ever responded to your distraught cries or She let you suffer while She is watching from afar? Have you ever begged Her for those icy kisses which can slow down the heartbeat even to the most devious one? Have you ever hugged Her and then felt so deranged as if you are experiencing painful withdraws?  Have you ever dreamt about what would have happened if She stays with you even though it marks the beginning of the end for you?

I am still unsure about your responses; you seem to bear some discomfort and I can read your body language as if you are ashamed. Don’t worry, let me speak on the behalf of you and I – I don’t mind revealing how rotten is my spirit after every meet up with Her. I can sense how afraid you feel because you don’t understand what went south, what you have done wrong.

She is the drug that you need the most with the sweetest taste of what you crave the most. She disguises Herself to look and feel like what you want most – company, understanding, even bittersweet love. And when Her grip is tight enough, she invades your cells – one by one until She becomes one with your body. Her poisonous kisses make you experience the lightness of being happy, her touch feels like you have finally been understood. She is always around you, no need to call or text, she gets you like no one else – just think of Her and She already holds your hand, your best friend. She looks so innocent and kind, so dedicated to you – She has the need to protect you. This is what you have been told – She feels so protective towards you, no one can hurt you while She is around. She even looks somehow naively so deep in love with you – you can’t push Her away; She is all about you – good or bad, light or dark – She says she doesn’t care – you are enough the way you are. No need to change – She makes you feel the ONE and only. And when you are so dependent on Her and all She is - then you face the real Her – so cold and distant, no more happiness and comfort. She just disappears just to make you feel insane. You can’t feel her presence anymore even though she is lurking in the shadows, making sure you are dying. 

This, my friend, is the Misery you always attract – sometimes even with the slightest doubt. She loves a few moments of full devotion and being the perfect company. Once She is satisfied with all the games She usually plays and having your everlasting devotion, then all She does is wreaking havoc on your already broken life.

Generation 3rd Lost

 

Second generation self-destruction

Forced upon an innocent soul.

Hereditary self-isolation

Leading to increased depression -

Lack of human touch.

Clusters of genes bred throughout the countless descent -

Segments of lost study, annihilation by default.

 ….

In the deepest darkness of my consciousness,

Buried in the ashes of my self-preservation,

I am looking for the painful answers

Of what the hidden secrets can reveal.

The sadistic self-torture mixed with the sweetest regret

Of the weakness exploration of who I once was.

Tears falling, eyes blurry, brutal reality check.

Blacked memories of horror and disaster,

Another sabotage without success.

When the soul is hellish, obscure of nature

Why I keep trying to repent?

Shame and hatred, angry issues coming one by one,

To fit or not to fit? – This is my question-

To blend in a mindless society engulfed with copy/paste mentality.

 To feel or not to feel? - This is my next challenge –

 Why my duality shows up when the moment is inconvenient?

….

Fourth generation self-destruction,

Fourth generation masked in vexation,

Fourth generation inner demonic motivation,

Lacking basic morality, free spirit – no restrains.

And even if the lunacy is not well hidden - who is to blame?

When the pattern is repeated, deeply engrained,

When damage is not viewed as feebleness -

The true power of the victor is the one being freely INSANE!

Debugged Reality

 

System broken by design,

Glitches corrupt processes,

Debugging all the bugs – mission impossible;

Algorithm cannot compute.

…

Like a major bug I reoccur

Forcing the system to another shut down.

How many hours of fixes should be applied

Before the project is discarded?

Another sync is forced - the memory exhausted;

Another code rerun – another faulty feature.

…

In this dark social system, we crave the full release

Failing to realize how the wheel is wrong.

The end game is full control, factory of identical behavior;

What if the source code is amiss?

Stupidity is treated with respect, rotting make believes;

Another cheat sheet provided by religion.

If you are not follower – you are forever lost.

Admissions for this distorted reality never stop,

Test subjects happily sign the weaver;

The experiment is going strong.

…

And like a mad scientist, we struggle to achieve

The discovery of the modern age – Freedom 

– still delusional, never left this empty state.

How many times we ran the same experiment with different subjects?

Test after test the data is still unusable – countless variables, no templates.

Empty pages, inconclusive results – who is supervising the assessment?

How many weavers we can sign just to gain a better status?

Modern era, modern pain, modern dreams and modern loss.

Can we compete like rats trapped in countless mazes?

Thousands of mazes – numerous jobs;

And we are running towards the broken wheel

As if we cannot survive without the Savior called payroll.

Tired of all the running, all the data process,

Ready for restart or full system dethrone!?