Градский

Where are those -- free, bright, genuine, where are they now... how were they calling themselves?
M-something? M-someting-M? M-something... nah, can't forget without having a shot.

Anyway, ye'r asking where are they?
Dead.
All of them, more or less, some just like that, killed in the hail of horrific events, some succumb to the cocoon of the inner emigration, and the happiest of them are building a new life elsewhere. They will never be -- never be that anymore. A force.

But why? The future? They were the future! Their future.
Well, who knows, buddy?
They killed the future. Now they have no future.
Ans us? Do we have one?
Remains to be seen.

And then I slowly go to sleep, fairly depressed.

I kind of want to vomit and die.
To vomit all of my personalities, all the incompatible di-tri-quadro-tomies of irreconcilable mess that the current version of me seem to be.
To die afterwards, because what's left is just black emptiness.

It's 2005, and we walk with my cousin on the disrepaired street towards city center.
We see a fresh body on the street, someone fell off the window apparently.
"shit, bad luck" -- I say.
A sexy, but indifferent blonde from the Motorola ad is looking at the scene with an empty, pointless expression.
It's 2006 and we are at the mountain P.
It's 2007 and I drown in the rainwater from above.
It's... It's...
I wake up suddenly in 2024.
It's not me.
It never was.

sleepy and hungry

academic skills lecturers asked us for a feedback, and some people wrote "it's easier then I thought", "I'm proud of myself", "I'm eager to learn"

I wrote "I'm not as smart as I thought I was"

I have a 3 hours gap between classes, going to sleep for another 2 hours

I FAILED.
I failed to uphold to the standards I wanted to uphold to, and the world had failed me back.
That simple.
I felt that nothing would be as it was, nothing would be better than it was, in those days umphteen years ago.
I even didn't consciously understand where it comes from, how it maps on the reality around me.
Foolish I was, yes.
Foolish I was.

I wanted things that were only got through great strife (or so I thought) but was I ready for a strife itself?
I thought I was.
No, I wasn't.

And here I am, sitting here watching some scenes I last had seen decades ago and wandering what it did to me.
I failed, and for that failure I will suffer for the rest of my life.
That simple.