How not to exist and some quick tips on the errenous ways to grow up

A short time after midnight and I cease to exist. I dive into the cool waters of oblivion for a few rough hours that others call sleep. I don't really sleep, not really. Sometimes I wish I could just switch myself off. You'd think that is what "cease to exist" means and there's our first mutual big mistake. I re-appear in the world of the living early in the morning. And every morning I feel reborn, I am reborn,yet not in the good way. I start all over again. And all it takes is to keep breathing. All the battles are new, the battlefields change, the cause if different. But the enemy stays the same- always me. There is the righteous element to a war against yourself, I dare say. I grew up, wanting to believe in humans, striving to prove myself that people are worthy of my trust. And all the other years of my tiny life went for dissolving that myth. Or both things over-lapsed somehow, creating an unbearable paradox of fear and trust. And those years of false learning serve me as much as a bag of manure does, they stink up all my shiny moments of insight. Instead of preaching to myself all the wrong ideals, I could have just been a normal kid. That bird has flown, that little me, I mean. Now that I think about it, I was like an ostrich and I've spent most of the life as Kathy with my head buried in the sands of ignorance. One would assume, I once more invert your attention towards the changes that have lately occurred in my persona. That's not one of those times. All I wish is to share my truth with you. Because after and despite all of our disappointments, we are our own biggest enemies...And life is much easier when we accept that. Of coarse we all have the baggage of past mistakes. However, no one said we have to wear it on our shoulders all the time. Sometime after midnight Kathy ceases to exist. A few hours later she opens her brand new eyes and inhales with her brand new nostrils. All the days are different but the goal is always the same...To get to the other side!...???What side? I don't know, some side, where we can breath again, I guess...

You'll know us by our dreams

Sometimes I wonder what is that thing that drives people mad about flying. It is around those same times when I get reminded how different people are from each other. The possibility of dying from a falling with 230 km/h death, however, doesn't attract me, at all. I wonder if Da Vinci was afraid of heights. Most of his mind-boggling sketches would imply "not". But how could we allow ourselves a judgement of a person based on his/her dreams. Or how could we not?! We sing songs about inspiration and faith. We dance to music about sexual intercourse and hormonal disbalance . We read books about war, death and serial killers, often times filled with eye-watering sympathy and humanity. We go to university just because all smart people do, whereas not all intelligent do. We stray away from politics but are part of it when it's about our rights. We govern our emotional outbursts and others call us "grown-ups". We don't and we know we are. We go to sleep late at night because the darkness hides all the cool stuff that make us awesome. We drink lots of coffee for the sake of freedom and fight , often times, for all the wrong reason. Yet ,we still fight...and that somehow disproves the Chaos factor, that was attached to us. We look forward to gender equality but somewhere in the late hours we thank the Gods we are so different. Some of us dream of flying, some of landing, of having super-powers or being super-humans - And those dreams draw us together because we all believe. Faith is not for the faint-hearted, and most of all - Our Faith doesn't mean we believe in the One God. It means we believe in miracles, we believe in ourselves... Who are we?! - That is a question for some future day to come.

Стари сметки и заслужени постановления

Да, отслабнала съм. Да, косата ми е пораснала. Все толкова устата съм, ако не и малко повече, и все още имам притеснителен афинитет към многоцветните ансамбли. На 21ви септември имам полет до летище Лутън, а след това отпътувам за Кардиф, Уелс. Там в идните три (поне) години ще уча археология. Ненавиждам футбола и личното ми мнение е, че в Бългрия той е съизмерим единствено с чалгата. Нямам намерение да се извинявам за решенията ми, нито да крия нещо. Достатъчно е само да ме попитате. Оценявам високо личното творчество. Жалките опити на някакви изостанали в образователната система елементи да се забавляват на чужд гръб забавляват мен. Хората могат да бъдат много неща. Хората постоянно ме озадачават, понякога респектират и често пъти ме отвращават. Миналото обаче е минало, а аз съм склонна да давам втори шанс. Но трети и четвръти шанс?!- Не, благодаря... Извинявам се за отявлено апокрифния характер на казаното. На мен ми е време за си уреждам стари сметки и да си търся стари услуги. А и съм почти сигурна кой е гадният спамър, който язвително плюеше преди време по блога ми.- Ах, ти мръсно, гадно, имащо зелено лицева кожа, недоносче...Пожелавам ти да си горд студент до пенсия, много те бива да се държиш като хормонясъл пубер. По въпроса толкова. А колкото до всички прекрасни хора, с които ми предстои или вече съм се сбогувала - Признавам си, че най-бездарно изгубвах дар слово, когато най-много ми трябваше. Стига със сбогуванията. Оставаме на една планета все пак. Аз съм Just Kathy, защото ако бяхте Йоци щяхте да разберете (вътрешнозаводски хумор), а и защото името ми е Кати. Живи и здрави хора, още седмица и отлитам.

Missing Person(the story of something that never happened)

I do not know if I have ever been in love with a man. I can't tell for sure. Maybe I'm too young to be certain. I thought I have but that turned out to be a misfitting sad attempt to fit in. I seem to have a lot of those. Yet, lately, the thoughts of a boy I met not long ago keep circling around in my dreams, like vultures- waiting for the wounded animal to finally die. I first dreamt of him a few months ago, when he was already gone, went to the other side of Earth. I say, if he was trying to get away from me, he couldn't have possibly done a better job.(but I am not THAT egocentric) Still, you won't believe how romantic that dream back then was. I feel that, for the needs of a further understanding of my story, I need to tell you how it all started. Exactly two years ago I was a freshman at the Sofia Uni. I started off as a mind-boggingly motivated Iranian studies student. I was part of, what seemed to be, the smallest Uni group, ever. There were these two boys with whom I saw a possible friendship development. Okay, okay, maybe not just friendship. And of coarse, that is how I met one of my best friends but that is a whole other story. The four of us began communicating a lot, sharing, spending time together. Until one day the boy in question, his name is Ilia, told me I was a complete nerd and sucking-up to our tutors, for learning so much (for truth's sake, he was right!). The guy in question wears a lot of hats (which I always found categorically sexy) and when he said what he said, I took his hat, smashed it to the ground and shouted in his face. I know, I know - I was being a total child and cry baby, believe me, now I know it. Fact is, from that day on he stopped talking to me. Ilia didn't even acknowledge my presence. I can't blame him, I would have done the same thing. Truth to be said, I felt I had so much in common with him, that I knew he would never be friendly towards me again. And I was right. As a result of me-being a complete coward I never really tried to make thing better. I apologize if I get into too many details. It's just that, I never really got over what happened. Ilia was so intelligent, witty and in a perverted way just the kind of crazy I always looked for. Not to mention how attracted I felt towards him. But we haven't spoken in some two years now and still, here I am, dreaming of him. In my dreams we often hold hands and there is even no sex involved. We just spend time together and he looks me in the eyes and we talk, and laugh, and I am happy. I wonder how many more years will it take me to forget him. I don't think it's love, it feels more like a yearning for closure and intimacy. Even now I still can't muster the courage to write directly to him, telling him how sorry I am...That I didn't get to know him better. But in my dreams it always feels like he is the warmest, most genuine person I have ever met. I miss him, as if a part of my own self was torn away and he has it. I can only hope that someday he will find out just how much. Липсва...