Bird
Saint Creature Our relationships with people are like trying to light a fire with a lighter. It seems to burn, as if you see a flame. But, in the end, it is not yellow, but blue. And somehow it quickly goes out. I am not even talking about relationships or communication, but rather about trying to replace one person with another. And so there are two options – either what was there besides paper will catch fire faster than alcohol will run out (funny, just like in life and relationships with people), and the fire will burn – or you will be left with a bunch of cigarette butts that you will not know what to do with.
My fire inside will still burn out, or rather not like that – I will still burn out from the inside, because there is something smoldering. I will go in and refresh the page, hoping to see something – but I already know that it is in vain. And in vain not because, in vain, because I understood the whole secret. And it consisted in the fact that, probably, the whole trick was precisely in the idea of somehow getting me out of my mind, provoking me. So that I would do what I should have done, but what I didn’t do. Because sometimes people need this provocation to stay white and fluffy. So that they don’t ruin something. So that later they have the opportunity to say that “it’s not me, but you”. A wonderful excuse for someone, although I’m used to hanging all my shit like laundry, and not covering up certain moments for which I should be ashamed.
Love will burn out like alcohol,
In the end, without leaving a single one
A bird won’t fly into the sky,
A ship won’t sail beyond alone.
