selfishness, this rotten quality can't ever go away, what is mine is mine and I want it as close to me as can be, safe, in my protecting hands, in my heart. it's a part of me, I can't defend it from the evil ghosts when it's not in my hands,
And everytime someone wants to take it away from me. I can't fight anymore, if that thing is mine, it should see me as his and if it doesn't, I guess we don'g belong.
or..do we?

I want to S.H.O.U.T so strongly so the whole world will hear me. I didn't feel like nothing in these few last days but that feeling is coming back to me, layer by layer, stitching my airy holes so that I'll be whole again. and my wholeness is, how not, to be the nothing I am, I confess father, I fooled everyone but I am, just a plain nothing.

my Odelya, if you read this, I have to tell you some things

I love you so much, you must know that. I'm aching, and you're the only one who can heal it. But you're silent, and I'm here writing, trying to stop the shatters from parting, I want to die. again I'm selfish, everything I want is what can make it all so easier for me.
Die already,
oh..still alive..I keep disappointing myself.

My stupid pride, I hate it, and I can't pick up the phone and call because they don't let me,
It rang
I picked up
Sivan.
And I hoped it will be you...but what am I saying, of course you won't call. I'm only your wife.

I'm sick of it, I don't care if anyone reads it, my love, stop putting these walls between us. I wonder what are you doing right now, and probably you're...somewhere else, not thinking about me, laughing, reading these books which drift you away

and I, I knit nice sleeves that don't fit my hands, too small..but I still knit them. I wish I could be in them, and it's like..I don't wear them until they agree to fit my arms. so stupid, but again, it's all a matter of pride.
PLEASE CALL, PLEASE SAY SOMETHING

I think I will jump over a cliff or something, I always thought there's a great view as you fall down. lots of sand bunnies and ibexes, and so peaceful on the way down....the air caressing the eyes who see their last spectacles..
and then these voices of choir sirens, bubbly, from the water, you think it's so far yet if you hear them it means they're so close, and you're hovering with it, the melody so pleasant and at some point you even believe that you're in heaven. when you die.
But then you remember why are you hearing these sirens, these horrible windy sirens, because you don't deserve the cherry taste of life, you're bad, you're filthy, your hands are shaking all the time, your eyes are shrinking just because you don't want to cry, your fists are open, you want to get shot

-----so bad-----so stupid-----so miserable----so alone.
You're looking at yourself in the mirror and you hate what you see, you see a dirty fur covering your horrible body only because you're too ashamed to see yourself for what you really are- an ugly human being, dirt.

yes, that's me, lady nothing.
I'm not asking for anything to fill me though, not if it's not the sweetest of all,
my Odelya.

I am sorry for who I am
but that's what I am..
I am sorry.