V. Varga TiborGood night
People. Shouting. I can hear some words, it’s a different language, it’s a different culture, it’s a different country. Country of shouting. Crowded bus, somebody, just hit me. Why? My wallet is stolen, they tore my clothes and they are shouting. Are they drunk? Maybe. Nothing is forbidden. You know, when I was a child I... don’t have memories, this loud noise has already squeezed out everything from my brain. Big emptiness full of halved words. I don’t understand anything. I’m a pill, take me, swallow me, pretend that I will heal you. Just wake up from your existence and drink, drink a shot, drink a beer and take your pills, you can’t sleep, can you? I’m full of nothing, why would I help, who do you think I am, and by the way who am I? I thought I know myself, I try to figure it out myself, but I just can’t, because I’m in pain, and everything is foggy and everything stinks. It’s heavy. I cannot see, I cannot smell and I am not able to move, million pain-bricks over my head crushing me. God, who doesn’t exist, who I just can’t believe in, please help me, I’m desperate.
I want to die. I am weak to finish it but I am weak to live further.
So I am going to sleep, I will let the time take care of everything.
Good night.
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