figment

03.04.2006., ponedjeljak

i'm speaking from a little box, very neatly tagged and placed strategically upon a high shelf.
only thing is, i can't remember leaving it there.
maybe that's because it's always been that way...and i was a fool to think...well, anything.
windows are neither created nor opened by cutting pictures from magazines and glueing them on walls...

the verdict:
eighteen, clumsy and shy.
introverted, lonely and over-sensitive.

why does everybody except me seem to have some sort of instruction manual for life? most of them are missing quite a few pages... but still, i'd be grateful, it would give me at least a vague idea of what this is all about...
whenever i speak, something breaks...
in turn, you'd say: so what, it wasn't that much of a heart anyway, it was only a mirror, and there are plenty of those...
(i'm trying to figure out which part exactly i misheard...)

otherwise:
...is a dream a lie if it don't come true, or is it something worse? (bruce springsteen, the river)
- 22:36 - za ovdje (bla bla) (7) - za van (ubij drvo) - žblj

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