Inside Of Chaos (2011 - 2021)

-Work made up of all sorts of morbid things my mind has created that I didn't know where to put, it can seem disturbing/ depressing to some people. It represents something like a morbid random.

***

-What doesn't hurt is not life, what doesn't fade it's not luck-
(school essay done on 01.10.2013)

Another day, exactly the same as the others. The only thing that changed are the events and the people in it. Every day people are born and die, living their lives on this planet.

Anyone who's born must die, it's inevitable. The only difference is how someone lives that life they've been given. For some people life is like a fairy tale, others find it difficult, but they try to fit in. Life can be characterized as a train with different cars; The man tries to jump into the best car. But, when the journey comes to an end and the train stops at the last stop, there remain only memories, actions and sins from life. Memory of him fades, his bones rot in the ground. All that remains is a grave as a reminder, until it is destroyed by the tooth of time. And then it's like he didn't even exist. Who, after all, remembers all those people who lived, for example, a thousand years ago? Sometimes I wonder if all this is worth it. Effort, fear and everything... Is it worth a few years of peaceful old age? What difference does it make how long people live when it doesn't matter at the end anyway? I realized a long time ago that life is passable. That's when got over it. Life is as passable as dreams. Sometimes it seems like an illusion, like it's all unreal. Sometimes it's impossible to discern reality from sleep. But, when I get back to reality, I realize this isn't an illusion. Like that's important. Just like many things, living life is also something to learn, only many people just can't or don't want it. Its passable nature is exact reason why it's not valuable to me. I know all those irrelevant things I've done and all those useless words I've said are going to vanish the moment my soul comes out of this world. I'm not afraid of death, on the contrary. I see it as a break. Happiness is useless; What's it for when it's short-lived? Words are redundant; Why should they be spoken if they're going to disappear in time? Other people are souls who, like everyone else, seek a place in this fleeting life; Why do I need their presence? We should rely on our intuition and thoughts... A man lives by instinct, instinct to fight and try to survive. That instinct is left over from prehistory but, like so many other things, that instinct is vanishing. People are tired of something that doesn't make sense. In an endless race, many participants give up...

Earthlife... So complicated, so confusing. I don't want to think about it. In a few years, it'll be gone, too. In the distance we can see death. We're all walking towards it, just some of them arrive before others...

*The essay was mentioned in the story "Devil's Town" after the essay of "My Thoughts and Feelings These Days"

***

- The dream- the illusion of reality-
(school essay done on 10.12.2013)

It's night time again. It's time to take a break from a difficult, boring and dreary day. Another day that went by and left the night.

I'm at the gates of the Empire of Dreams. I have to put this burden in front of them. The burden of a hard day's work. Only a part of the cargo remains at the door... The rest stays here. Not falling down my back. I'm walking towards the Realm of Dreams. The dream is getting deeper and deeper... Forest. It's a rainy morning. The path runs through the woods. The straight path I walk on disappears behind me. The sky is grey, the trees have dark colors. I can see the end of the track, but I can't get to it. Everything suddenly disappeared in the fog. The fog descended and showed a new sight: the mountain. The high mountain was right in front of me. I felt the need to climb. Little by little, I found myself at the top of the mountain. I looked around, but I wasn't satisfied. I wasn't calming down. I was looking down at the foot of the mountain. I felt like a bird that couldn't fly... I wanted to have wings, to fly just once... The wind's starting. I spread my arms and looked up at the sky. I closed my eyes and... After I opened them, I found myself somewhere else. It was the day. I was in a room with a small window. The landscape that could be seen from the window vanished in fog. In the distance, I could see the bridge. The old stone bridge hovered like an angel over an infinite fog. I turned to the walls of the room. They were grey and empty. There was only one table in the room with a simple glass vase in which, in contrast to all that gloominess, was the most vibrant blue flower I'd ever seen. The door to the room... They were locked. I took the flower out of the vase. That's when the door opened. I felt safe in that room, but I was intrigued - what's out there? I want to see that bridge. I want to get to it. I'm on my way. I was just following the bridge in the distance. I wanted to... to finally achieve my goal. I was prevented again... The dream took me to a new place. The beautiful crystal river was a mirror to the sun that was setting. A familiar landscape that has become the most beautiful place in the world. There was another bridge in front of me. I was on my way to it, walking to the middle... I stopped in the middle and watched the sunset. The beautiful magic of color caught in my eyes. Let it last forever... It's not real anyway, it's just a dream... But the sun had to go down. Instead, the moon has come. The barely visible moon has become the lord of the sky. That moment... it will disappear as well. Everything that's beautiful disappears. Just like the beauty of this dry flower in my hands. Goals that disappear in the fog, inability to fly away, to retain a moment that's worth... All that remains is disappointment. Grief. Failure. Again, the dream convinced me of that... I hear a beautiful melody. No, it's not a dream anymore. It's time to wake up.

Back to reality... Maybe in my next dream I'll be able to do something...

***

-Memory is the only paradise we can't be persecuted from-
(essay done on 04.03.2014)

Animals and humans have the ability to remember many important and irrelevant events, faces, objects... It all creates a one's memory- a man's mind.

There are good and bad memories in a man's life. Many try to forget bad things, while others try to learn lessons for further life. One defeat from the past does not mean a lost battle, but an opportunity to find mistakes and correct them. Mostly. There are people who don't even want to change. However, when a man finds himself in the void of his mind, even his most difficult memories seem more beautiful... Because it wasn't like this back then. It must have been nicer, even if it wasn't. What would be a memory? Something that happened a long time ago, a far and irrelevant past, perhaps an illusion? It can fool us. If we remember something the way it didn't happen, does that make a change? The earliest childhood memories are just pictures in the fog. Maybe a picture created from our parents' story. Childhood... Childhood memories are mostly full of melancholy and nostalgia. A carefree time for most humans. Those little problems, which seemed unsolvable at the time, are now becoming childish nonsense. Growing up changes the kinds of memories. From those "carefree" years, it turns into a more mature age. In adulthood, puberty also seems carefree... You can't tell if any memory is beautiful or bad. It all depends on the man's point of view and the state he's in. Are my memories heaven or hell? Neither. My memories are hazy images that are buried in a deep layer of ash. I'm not sure if they're even real. The nothingness took over the memories, all that remained is a void. Sometimes a memory wriggles out of the ashes like a weed or a flower from the ground, and then it returns to its underworld. Underground are memories of who I was: a normal person with normal desires, creative in a completely different direction, a person who painted her world with bright colors, a person with an innocent soul who still didn't know what the cruelty of the world was. Here, on the surface, is the present. Ot's the only one who occupies my attention; What to do now, at this point, and not make a mistake... The past doesn't exist for me. It belongs to my past life. The past is a memory. The memory has vanished. There's only a void left.

All in all, memory is a paradise for those who have become captives of their present... Until it's carried away on the wings of eternity...

***

-War doesn't only destroy people's lives, but it also destroys many human virtues-
(school essay done on 13.05.2014)

There are no rules in war and it has long been known; however, all this goes too far because of the fire of anger burning in some people.

Wrath... it completely possesses the person, takes all her virtues and leaves her with only endless anger. A fire of hate was lit in her eyes; A fire that is capable of burning everything around it and forcing the destruction of other people's works and even other people's life. Ever since the begining world there have been such people: among rulers, commanders, leaders, even ordinary people. All they cared about was personal gain, but not the lives of those who paid for it. Trampling over corpses, they achieved their ambitious goals in monstrous ways. They carried thousands of lives on their hands for no reason. That anger... Revenge... All that creates hatred in man... It's the only thing a man feels. Aside from that feeling, one is a void that doesn't even realise what's been done. Even if he ever wakes up he won't be able to redeem for his sins, and tears will no longer help, nor begging for forgiveness. Even at that moment, anger arises in the victim's family, in all his loved ones. Endless chains of hatred tighten the human psyche, because for some things it's hard to find forgiveness... A million dead souls will never find their peace in heaven, others have condemned them to eternal wandering, to vengeance.

War is the worst solution to the problem. It can never solve anything, it can only take the lives of innocent people and nothing more - because every war comes from anger.

***

- The angel at the bottom-
(February 26, 2013, 2:30 a.m., Tuesday; it's translated poem so rhyme is lost during translation)

You, an angel falling to the bottom of the abyss
And lower, much lower, down to hell.
You, whose crystal soul
So far, no one's touched.

You think you can, but the soul works against
You're sure you can do, you just don't know what.
One more step only divides you
From your nightmare. From the worst dream.

What do others see that you can't see?
Are their eyes something else?
Maybe your eyes are closed?
Seems like they won't be for too long.

Beneath your feet is a scary sight:
Stone chains hidden by the abyss.
You can come back - everything will be the same.
One step forward- the soul stops to shine.

You, an angel moving your trembling leg slowly
On the last voyage, on a journey without end,
I hope someday you'll find
Peace at the gates of heaven.

***

- To my parents-
(sometime towards the end of February 2013; as it's also a poem rhyme dissapeared with translation)

Don't ask why. I don't even know.
I'm looking for light in vain when there's only darkness.
There's silence in me even though there's a noise all around,
I seem peacefull, but there's drama in my brain.

Depression drags me towards the road with no end.
It's clouded my mind, and that's why no more
I can't think, I know that every breath
It's getting harder. Fear remains.

I don't want your tears, your suffering, your pain and your misery.
I wish you luck and peace, a hundred things I wish you now,
You're not as cowardly as I was.
You're not for hell, you're for angel wings.

How can I give you back will to live?
Wherever I am, I'll follow you.
Fulfill your dreams, it's not too late for you
To get out of the clutches of severe depression.

Parting from you is the hardest thing I've done.
I don't want anyone to get hurt because of me.
I know you're broken and how you feel right now,
But open your heart - there's hope in it.

And maybe that's how it was supposed to be?
Maybe fate said this was going to happen?
Death is something natural and must not be caused.
I know what I've done. I know it's my fault.

You know I'd go far away fast
I'd become a stranger, an irrelevant one,
There'd be no sign of me
Maybe even then I wouldn't have been saved.

Everything's easier to get over when memories are forgotten,
When things are packed and put in boxes,
Locked in a room- to forget about me;
Why do you need pain and sad memories?

No matter where I go, I'll go with a smile,
It doesn't matter how, I'll get there after all.
Time is passing, it can't go back.
Then why cry? Then why suffer?

Support and love are all you need.
Don't worry about me. I'm protected by the vastness of the sky.
Don't paint in black your quiet days,
Don't let life stop because of me.

*I had this poem with me in my backpack on March 1, 2013, when I set out to do what I wrote about in the song. The song is referred to in the story "Devil's Town" as "a farewell song that will wait a while". Otherwise, it stands in the notebook where the story "It will never get better" is written, along with some other suicide notes created over the past few years.

***

About evolution and ruins
(written in 2017 as status)

It's just amazing how beautifully our planet was created from nothing - where the magma flowed a long time ago are now beautiful, breathtaking landscapes, the sky where flew pterodacts now are adorned by planes, and on the ground on which the dinosaurs walked now the grand metropolis with their vast buildings rise.

On the other hand, there are individuals who, for their selfish goals, make weapons to destroy this beautiful planet and its inhabitants. Is proving supremaciness a good reason to change the world as we know it? It seems like the world is quietly preparing for war, but this one wouldn't be the same as the previous two - this would be something that can't be escaped, something that would most likely change life as we know it - by introducing radioactive particles into evolution. Most wouldn't survive it, but the rest would certainly be affected by these particles, which would slowly be the end of Homo sapiens and the beginning of new species. I sincerely hope that these people who have a power in their hands will also have a sanity for the good of our planet, us as one species in this system, same as for their own lives. Divisions between people have gone on for too long - why did they exist when they led to nothing good but centuries of destruction? Isn't there any other way to reduce the population than to kill with various toxins?

War has never brought any good, only millions of victims, will they ever learn from other people's mistakes?

***

- Mind-
(random thought)

Our psyche is like earth.

A lot can be created on it, whether it's building magnificent architecture, plant growth, creating a home. Still, when difficulties and negative emotions are created, it's like someone throwing waste on that land.

Some waste can be dissolved in tears, some can be burned (i.e. solve problems with a violent response), but when too much rubbish piles up on that land it is completely covered, so we create a hole in which these accumulated emotions will fall into. Unless it is cleansed of emotions in time, it will continue to fill up until eventually it becomes a bottomless hole in which everything is lost: emotions, memories, dreams.

That's when a person becomes a void.

It's much easier to cleanse our mind at the beginning (and above all not to let others destroy our psyche) than to wait for it to become a dead place from which sometimes it is impossible to return.

***

- The universe-
(4.11.2013)

Beyond that blue sky lies the infinite darkness of the universe, and that sun... It's a huge fireball of death.

***

Before I took personality tests and got that I was the INFJ type (i.e. the paradox of opposites in one brain, maybe it is the rarest but I think there's a good reason for it) I described myself like this:

- A pessimistic realist
- Depressed comedian
- A frightened artist
- A vengeful peacemaker
- A hard-working sloth
- Stupid intellectual
-Creative void
- A loner who puts others before herself etc.

***

-Encounter with the future-
(9.12.2011- 28.12.2011)

(Before I begin- this is a short story from 2011 that I didn't want to publish specifically (I have two such stories, from another I'll take some parts). This story seems silly to me from this perspective, but I'm silly too and you're still standing me so whatever. I'm not going to rewrite it, I'm just going to change one name. I'm going to add my comments to the story from a position of myself from the future (*between the brackets with star) because I really can't type down this nonsence without commenting, sorry :D. Brackets without stars are part of the story.)

It's morning. I'm sitting on the stairs and writing a new story. I'm figuring out how to start it. Maybe like this:

"My name is Suzana Ristic (*what's my last name then if it's just my first name :|) and I'm an artistic soul. I like to write stories..." No, no! Maybe I should emphasize some of my qualities for a start. For example:

"My name is Suzana and I am..." Um, it's hard to describe my personality, and it's even harder to start a new story. So far I've written a lot of stories (*a dozen were a big number then, people!). Actually, I don't even know what my favorite story is. There were characters who had my qualities, who look a little like me and one even has my name. However, Princess Susan from "Year Seasons I" was not named after me, which I already explained in that book (*not that someone asked me anyway :D). Lately, it occurred to me to write a story about myself. Not an autobiography, but a story (*this will be the only story about me where I'm alive at the end, BOILER. I mean, spoiler). As a writer - which I can probably say for myself - I can write experiences from my life, but I probably don't have anything that interesting to share with readers (*true). And while I'm explaining all kinds of irrelevant things to you, I've figured out how I can start this book:

"My name is Suzana Ristic (*because people didn't remember the first two times :|), I'm fifteen years old and I go to the Agricultural School- Food technician class. Since I've been at this school, I've been writing more stories. Speaking of which, I've been writing stories since I was 13, ie seventh grade. That's when I wrote my first story, "Year Seasons I". I come to school early, every morning with the first bus at 6:50 (*at later grades I got there and around six). And what do I do when I come to school? I draw, I write stories and songs... I'm rarely bored. I can't write about my traits exactly because I feel like I have changing behavior (*your feeling is not fooling you, it's true). I'll try to name some: shy, honest, smart (*lol, let it be), resourceful, serious, funny and boring... I'm telling you, it's complicated. I like blue, followed by purple, pink, black and red, also green. I think I like all colors except orange because that color is too strong for me (*depends how combined). If I have anything else to add, I can write it later."

Okay, I wrote the beginning. It rang and my class started. In the meantime, from the first to the last class, I'm writing two or three more lines.

When the bell rang, I was walking on my way home (*I miss this, that was my favorite part of the day). I went with a friend, we talked about all kinds of things. I said, "Do you think they're going to invent a time machine?" She: "I have no idea. Where'd you get that from?" I: "Nothing, I just want to know what it would be like to see yourself from the future (*a bad idea, believe me). You know, to see what you're going to look like in 10 years (*same but a lot worse :|). She: "My future will certainly be great. Maybe I'll have a lot of kids or enjoy the luxury... I'm joking, who knows what my future is like. Well, what do you think of yourself?" I (imagining): "Well, since I'm a food technician, I'll probably work in a lab or be an inspector (*or you'll continue your father's job as a craftsman and have to take almost all the household chores instead of your mother and become a servant in your own home, yay). And I'd rather work in a corporation (*I don't know where I got that from). Who knows what could happen by then."

We got to town and then she went her own way and I went on mine. After a while I got to the beginning of my street. All of a sudden I heard a call behind me, "Suzana, Suzana, stop! I can't run and you know it! (*well, I can. At least five meters, more or less ten centimeters.)"

I turned around and saw a woman (excuse me, A WOMAN?! It's girl!!! I'm going to replace it everywhere now with "girl" -_-) with chestnut hair tied up in a bun, dressed in a business suit (*jacket in the middle of summer and comfortable sweatpant is in this case a business suit) and flat black stylish shoes and, in my estimation, she was about 20 years old (*well, if I hadn't had my first wrinkles because of my lifestyle you would think I am still in elementary school O_O). I waited for her. When she got pretty close to me, I saw that her face is... just like mine! Green eyes, nose and mid-sized lips, hair like mine (*older me, unlike her, has an eyebrow piercing scar -_-) ... I even thought it was me from the future! But that would be funny! Don't imagine, Suzana, don't imagine... (*imagining imaginary situations is my hobby. At least it's good for stories ;))

Then a girl came to me, "I can't believe I'm here talking to you (*aka I can't believe I'm still alive, while that to go back in time sounds like a normal thing) ... I would never have come back if I didn't really need you, you have to help me. In fact, I'm here to save you until it's too late (*as if I've foresaid something, but I'll leave a morbid interpretation in the end)." I said, "Why and how do you save me? From whom or what? (*I know this- GENITIVE!) Besides, who are you?"

Woman... Damn it, a girl, not a woman: "You know very well who I am. I am... Suzana Ristic from 2020. (*my reaction when I read it after all these years- the freaken hell! This is the present!) Or Suzana Ristic Suza, if you know her better (I've turned pale) maybe you don't believe me and I'll have to convince you it's me. For example: Your favorite color- blue, you love art, your first story is "Year's Seasons I", your birthday on December 25th. , you like roses, you believe in magic, you love animals... Do I have to name something else?" I:"It's just facts, I'm not the only one who knows that. Someone else could have told you." The girl: "What about your dreams? Fantasies? I might be able to remind you of the exact place of things in my room, but I don't remember exactly (*I don't remember what I ate for breakfast, but I still remember the place of furniture around the house :|). I know your favorite picture is the one where you're in kindergarten dancing with..." (*maybe it used to be. Now nope.)

I: "All right! Enough, enough! It's not necessary that half of the street know what's my favorite kindergarten photo. I believe you. But I can't believe you're from the 2020s, then I'll be 25! (*I understand that you don't believe it, but I don't believe it either :/ ) But wait; How did you even get here???!" S.R. (since we've established that we're called the same): "Time machine. Secret project (*it hasn't been invented yet as far as I know). I had to go back in time to save my future. At the age of 16, I discovered something I shouldn't have, and some people decided to liquidate me at the age of 25 (*I'll be back on this part at the end) They're also here and they want to destroy you before you know about it. I have to save you, I might need a little help. Well, now I have to ask you something really important- do you have any water? I forgot where the tap is. (*there is one near the railroad next to the supermarket) I've had my blood sugar level so high again from this annoyance." I: "Am I going to have a problem with that even at that age?! (I take the bottle out and give it to her)" S.R.: "Unfortunately, it won't be the only problem. While you're upset about everything, don't expect to have good health." (*it's true that I have multiple health problems, but it seems to me that blood sugar is under control because of a vegetarian/ vegan diet for years :))

She told me she'd be at the hotel under a different name and data (*isn't that illegal :|) and that she'd meet me in the morning in front of where we're waiting for the bus. I didn't tell my parents about this, and they probably wouldn't believe me. I wanted to ask myself so many questions from the future: about work (*so-so), health (*catastrophic), friends (*what friends?), maybe even love... (as if she had something to say about the latter. It's me after all. *and I really have nothing to say about it :/ ) Maybe I could change the bad and be more careful. I'll have plenty of time to ask her whatever I want anyway.

Morning's dawn and I'm already ready for school. Like every morning, I sat on a bench with my mother. Suzana from the future sat on a slightly more distant bench and looked at mother (*I don't know why I would do that). Later, my mother was on her way home, and I was heading for the bus stop. Before that, I got to another Suzana.

I said, "You were looking kind of odd at mom (*mom. That sounds too gentle for that woman :/ ). Is she and Dad going to be okay?" S.R.: "Yes . In future I work a lot and that's why we don't see each other so often (*we see each other every day because we live together), but don't you worry, everything is going to be fine (*if we don't speak about illnesses and fact that father was close to death for several times :|). By the way, did you get the bus card out? If I could have driven you in my car I would have gladly done so, but they stayed in the future (*next to my father who is a great driver I don't even have a driver's license yet, hell yeah with life -_-). I'm going to school with you too." I: "Um, yes, there's a card. Wait, you really want to come with me?" S.R.: "Well, why not, no one will recognize me anyway." (*except now I'm wearing makeup and I'm slightly thinner I look just like her, so I don't know)

I was sitting on the bus with her. When we got there, we got off the bus and headed for school. "I can't believe I'm back here!" - said S.R., and a little later she asked me, "Today's Wednesday, what have you got today?" I: "By 9:00 I have nothing, then mathematics and then again nothing, then physics and English and finally Serbian." We sat on the stairs talking about the past and the present, not even mentioning the future. The students came slowly, and so did my class, they asked who the girl who was sitting with me was and I said it was my cousin, because you could clearly tell we looked alike. Suzana remembered them, first she strugled to remember their names and then her memory came back completely. (*incorrectly, I remember almost all the names and surnames of people from all three departments I was in, I have no idea how because I have memory problems for most things. From kindergarten I can only remember the names and not all of them, but that's amazing anyway).

Later, she went out to the schoolyard and I went to class. Suzana from the future saw a very familiar person (*now comes the name changing O_O). "Zorica, Zorica! I haven't seen you in a long time (*uh that joy, I'd run the hell out of there :/)" -she shouts, and Zorica, otherwise my friend I've known since first grade (it's a long story, *but let's say there's nothing left of it because some things I can't tolerate anymore), just turn around and ask, "Who are you?" S.R.: "You know Suzana Ristic?" Zorica: "Of course I know, I hang out with her." S.R.: "It's me, Aunt Zorica! (that's what I call it) I won't blame you if you don't believe me, I didn't believe myself either... We haven't seen each other since I moved out of here (*graduation day). Suzana will be here soon. When's the bell ringing?" Zorica: "At 9:45. It's 9:32 now." S.R.: "Okay, I'll wait for Suzana. I'll tell her not to make a mistake like I did and let you know the phone number when she's moved... Oh, there she is!" (*I've never written greater sarcasm in my whole life! Besides, if I wanted to I know where to find her, now almost everyone has a social media profile, but this way is better :|)

I'm on my way to them. Zorica immediately asks me, "Is this really you from the future???" I: "Yes. Isn't it great!?" Zorica looks at me, then looks at her. Since she was in a hurry to practice class we quickly explained to her what it was about, and then she went with the others while the two of us went inside. Suzana was looking at her ex-teachers. She wouldn't tell me anything about my future at this school, so from her eyes I was trying to figure out what was going to happen. She stayed with me that hour and then she went somewhere.

She came for me at the end of seventh class. We were walking on our way home together (*3-4 km to the town, two more to my house on the opposite side of town, that's how I went every day). She didn't want us to take the bus and I understood her. She probably missed a walk home in the future, an era when she had the best ideas on her mind.

I: "Am I going to write more stories?" S.R. "Yes, only with a much more serious theme." I said, "Is there a more serious theme than real life (*but by then you'd only written until "Short Stories", it wasn't half as heavy as this after, plus they were more in the fantasy genre) ?" S.R.: "It's your domain, but you might get the perfect idea for, for example, a crime novel (*there were some elements in the stories, but it never inspired me to write it :D), or to write story- poems (* "Dying again" from 2015, it was fun and hard to write). It's all possible. Nevertheless, it is not my goal to let you know what will happen because all Capricorns fight for what they want." I said, "Right. Given my zodiac sign, I think I'll be better in old age. If I really look like you then I wouldn't regret it (*I look so "nice" that mirror cries when it sees me). Do you think that's going to change?" S.R.: "With my arrival I have disrupted the future, so I try not to talk too much about the future. I don't want to hurt myself (*is that sarcasm or...), that is- you. Caution is very important in life." I: "Sure! Careless man makes more mistakes (*Even carefull people make mistakes because it is mostly impossible to plan all the nonsense that can go wrong). You never know what's going to happen..."

Suzana took some gadget out of her pocket (*probably a smartphone) and said scaredly, "They know we're here. We have to hurry or they'll catch us!" I: "You mean those people who are after us?" S.R.: "Yes. We can't run or fight them. I hate to be a coward, but we have to hide. Quick, this way!" We went behind one tree (*then they haven't cut down the trees on both sides of the road, I'm still angry about the cutting of those trees). A minute later, a red car passed us and an orange motorcycle was behind them. They went up to school, while me and Suzana were on our way home as fast as we could.

I got home, did my homework and then I thought about what might happen. On Thursday, the enemies found out which school I was going to so I asked Suzana to be with me on Friday. Together with Zorica we stood and waited for the bus. Zorica: "Suza (looks at Suzana from the future), do you know what will happen to me in the future?" S.R.: "If I'd stayed in touch with you, I probably would have known. And that's why you (turns to me) have to tell her your number so you don't forget each other (*wish I could forget some things so easily). You have no idea how many times I've wanted to call someone but I didn't know the numbers (*actually not even once, but I have a few people on social media that I know so I don't have a problem with that)." Zorica: "And when will Suza move away?" S.R.: "It's going to be a while." I: "There's a bus coming. Would it be a problem if I sit with Zorica and you sit in front of us?" S.R.: "Of course not! I'll sit behind you, in the back seat on the left."

We're back at school. "How do we get away from those who are looking for me?" - I asked. S.R.: "We look alike. They'll recognize us at first sight! No use in running, we have to face them. I can't warn you with a message because phones are banned in class, and we don't like breaking the rules. Think... Oh, come on, you stupid brain, think of something, don't betray me now! Today's Friday, what lessons do you have?" I (after I told her what lessons I have): "How are you going to think of something? Wait, I know, I know! Since I have to be in class, you'll be able to be in the hallway and let me know. If you see them coming, just kick your foot three times in front of the classroom where I have a class. I'll tell the professor I have to go out and then we'll see what we do." S.R.: "And if he doesn't let you go?" I: "Well, come to think of it... We'll figure it out. My best ideas come to mind unexpectedly."

About 12 o'clock I heard a sign; I asked to go out and then I made a deal with Suzana. I said, "And now what?" S.R.: "Well, did you think of something?!!!" I: "Okay, I admit I didn't (*I'd have thought of running away from class, but I guess that would be a taboo subject for me from a second year of highschool :D). It's not going to ring for half an hour." S.R.: "So what do we do? We can't hide, at least not anymore." I: "I'm going back inside and you hurry out and don't leave the shelter until they're away." S.R.: "But there are two armed young men. You can't fight them!!!. I: "Just get out! Quick! (*well, that is called dramatic! :D)

I went in, took my stuff from the first desk, went to the last one and said no one should say who I was. A few minutes later, some young men in red jackets entered the office. I'll call them the Enemies. Enemies: "Is Suzana there?"

Everyone said there was no one by that name. They came up to each one of them and then stood near my desk. My heart was beating faster, I was trying to control myself. Enemies: "What's your name? You look like her." I: "My name is... Yelena." Enemies: "Seems it's not this one either." (*sure, he bought it just like that)

They came out and a few minutes later it rang. The department was curious and wanted me to explain this to them, but I kept my mouth shut anyway. When I came out, Suzana came up to me and said, "Are you okay? Did they recognize you? How did you fool them?" I: "I was acting crazy, that's how I fooled them. Still, I have a feeling they'll be back. Maybe on Monday they will come again, but this time they'll realize that I'm really you. We only have two days to figure out what we're going to do."

That's where I left for my next class and she waited for me. We didn't have any problems on the way home. Over the weekend, we were on the phone arranging what we were going to do. Monday came quickly. In one of the classes enemies stormed the classroom. I admit, I froze with fear (*well, I didn't). Suzana told me that they have some machine they carry with them that can reveal what they did in the future. Pressing the yellow button would change everything...

(*when you don't know what to come up with and you come up with this kind of complete nonsense)

They shouted, "You! You lied to us! You're the real Suzana! Now you're going to pay! (*I would want to, but I have no money to pay you :/)." They just finished their sentence and felt down - Suzana hit them with a notebook! S.R.: "Quick, we have to get the machine!" The class, of course, looked at it with curiosity, but we still took the machine and left the classroom. They put themselves together and came after us. I was outside and Suzana was quick to open the window.

Enemies: "Give it to me and no one will get hurt." S.R.: "Never!" - and throw the machine out the window. I grabbed it and headed for the main entrance but I was intercepted by a group of armed enemies. Besides the yellow button, there's red one next to it (*I don't understand why it couldn't have been done with sooner, but let's just say it's a dramatic moment); it serves the enemy's benefit. I pressed the yellow button, and at that moment Suzana yelled, "Break the machine! Hurry up with that, you've got to break it fast!"

I threw it down and stepped on it as hard as I could. "Noooooooo" - they cried out loud. At that moment, they were gone. Suzana runs up and hugs me (*I don't hug people with no need). After class we went home again.

S.R.: "Well, Suzana, I'm going back to the future tonight. You'll see me in the future, ie yourself. Maybe the future has changed with this, you probably don't understand anything, but it doesn't matter. You'll understand in time." I said, "Can you tell me anything about the future?" Suzana thinks for a few minutes and then says, "Um, yes... On one condition." I said, "Which one?" S.R.: "You have to finish the story."

So, my dears, I will now finish this story. Maybe you've got to know me a little better. I don't know what else to tell you. I should add something clever, but I can't think of anything clever. I know that you know what needs to be known that a verb knowing would become knowledge in the meaning of significant knowledge. You know what I mean!

And I'll leave the disscusion out. Besides, aren't you tired of my babbling?!

The End and all that stuff
Thursday
28.12.2011

---------------
The morbid theory for this story is that "what I discovered at 16" was related to my self-destruction and that it could kill me now at this age (it could have been until now, but the circumstances were as they were). There's a chance that going back in time and preventing it all in time would have prevented my "liquidation" at this age, but I may have unconsiously predicted something to myself. We'll see if I accidentally predicted year of my death, it's only the beginning of the year :/.

***

- Parts from the unpublished story "The Door of the Soul"- Choir

*"The Door of the Soul" represents my unpublished story (we can call it an autobiography judging by its contents) from December 2015. It wasn't published because there would be a repetition of some facts and I thought it was redundful to publish it in its entirety, so it's not part of the official collection, but when I already write a random I can put some pieces out of it. That way I would officially publish every story I've written ;).

10th of December 2015- 15th of December 2015 (ten days before 20th birthday)

When you're an artist, you see the world with different eyes.
When you're depressed, you see life in a different way.
When you're an artist, you see people the way they are. I'm all that. Maybe that's why they'll never understand me.

I never liked writing a diary because you never know whose hands it might get into. I wrote in seventh grade, for a very short time, until I tossed the pages and threw them into the fire. March 2009... it's been a rough month. Writing a diary didn't comfort me at all, it just made me more suspicious. Well, I'm suspicious of everything -- there's no person on this planet that I totally trust to. And so, when the last page burned, my paranoia about revealing my secrets was diminished, even though I know I wasn't completely honest then. I was honest, though, when I was describing how much my legs hurt from choir rehearsals, which was obviously a mixture of choral and rhythmic sections. You have no idea how much girl with 80 kilograms, who walk nearly three kilometres a day to a house on the opposite side of town, likes to dance in front of 500 people in a pink tunic-dress-whatever that highlights her weight!

In fifth grade I auditioned for that choir. There were a lot of girls in the same class, so we sang one by one. When it was my turn, my dear friend Anxiety, who was still unknown to me at the time, grabbed my hand and encouraged me with a wonderful dose of fear. I don't know how the teacher even heard me because I sang very quietly, but I got into the choir. For some reason, I was afraid to sing on stage, I admit. It turns out I was just opening my mouth, now that I think about it I wonder why I stayed in the choir when I was completely spoiling the visual presentation with my appearance.

Before every event I planned to give up, which I did in eighth grade. It wasn't until then that I realized I really should have done it sooner. In fact, for the girls that choir was a kind of honor, because it included some of the most popular girls from school, and for me was the opportunity to do something that had to do with music, and to say at least something nice about my life in those years. Every event caused great elation, it's probably one of the reasons why it was hard to leave despite a lot of studying and duties.

***

- Dolls ("The Door of the Soul")-

Back in kindergarten I was an outsider - I was the only girl sitting with the boys at the head of the table. I don't know, it seemed kind of more natural, maybe because in my early childhood I played more with boys. I hung out very little with the children at the earliest age. The best friends I had were my dolls - to this day they are my family. When I was an ordinary person in my ordinary life, in my parallel life I was a successful singer, actress, comedian and more. I knew what I could do, so I evolved through the game both as a person and as an artist. And yet... It seems like only my alter-ego was evolving, while I stayed the same. My alter-ego had a big family, four sisters with their children and husbands, children of distant relatives, parents and Katarina. Katarina came into my life when I was a child, i.e. when my alter-ego was already an adult, so my alter-ego adopted her as a daughter. The story of Katarina Disko Beba (Disco Baby), as I gave her last name, would be a story for itself.

Along with our place of living, there was Barbie land with the capital the Barbicana, where my Barbie friends lived. Through it flowed the Barbie River, where some had the chance to see the sirens. Besides the Barbicana, there were other cities: Barbilona, Ken's Town, the Garden of Hope and Friendship... At the beginning of my game there was Prince Ken and Princess Rose, who had two daughters. One of them, Ruzica, had five daughters and one son who are still rulers in Barbicana today. I've always been fascinated by doll clothes, so that's why I started designing and drawing clothes at a later age. Besides, since I've given voices to both male and female characters in the game, I have the ability to easily change the color of my voice. Katarina has a specific voice color that has changed slightly over the years (as her character has grown), with which she sings rock and blues brilliantly. Unlike her, her boyfriend Zekan is an opera lover, in which he and I are alike. Zekan's brother Zeco is a fan of Lepa Brena and sings turbo folk. Zeki, my alter-ego's nephew, loves romantic songs, regge and hip-hop the most. My alter-ego was a representative of pop music, but over time my whole work evolved and went in different directions.

Katarina is my opposite - a hyperactive happy person, in love and restless at first. She is surrounded by friends and is very communicative and friendly. She loves to eat chocolate, which represents an everlasting inspiration in music for her. Her first song is titled "I Can't Cry in the Dark", which became popular and inspired Katarina to continue with music. That's when I made songs for her and for myself, and later for other characters.

***

-Red March ("The Door of the Soul")-

At the beginning of the seventh grade, depression offered me its worst solution to my problems for the first time. I tried to ignore it, telling myself it would be better when I move out. Even now that I've moved, I don't see that anything is better, on the contrary, I miss the house where I was born and raised.

In February, I wrote my first story and a few weeks later... I was broken. To this day, I still am. (In the original I was bitter about the whole situation, but I don't think it would make sense to type that part as it is. Instead, I'm going to recount the event from my point of view)

On March 5th, Thursday, we had a choir practice. Almost every second day in March we were preparing for the School's aniversary event, preparing a few songs with choreography. We were supposed to have a rehearsal that day, we gathered and waited for the teacher, but she didn't show up after an hour, it got dark outside. After a while the police came and went upstairs where the teacher's office was, I think there were some teachers but I don't remember that, I remember everyone was upset. Shortly afterwards, we heard the news that there had been the death of a student of our generation, most likely a suicide (with no one confirming anything about it, but it is still considered that).

That boy had a cute face and he was usually smiling, he had a few extra pounds and there were words that he was ridiculed for it (as someone who was ridiculed for the same thing I have no doubt that was the case), there were other problems but it is a matter of privacy, it is not for me to write about it. I was quite shocked but I didn't cry at school, while the situation was different at home, I couldn't stop crying. The next day the form teacher was talking about suicide and how it's not a solution, I tried to stay as cold as possible when she mentioned that subject because by then it had already occurred to me to do it and I didn't want to tell anyone, I considered it a kind of secret. It might have been different if I'd shared it with someone, but I didn't feel like I had a problem and now I don't care.

I still remember the day of the funeral, I remember there were a lot of people, almost all the teachers and students from the school came. That event made a strong impression on me (although it had no impact on my personal self-destruction), for years I was bitter and it intensified after a similar event in 2016, when happened the death of a seventh-grade girl from the same school, again a suicide. I sincerely hope it doesn't happen again, I guess the school has begun to make a change to take more care of the students. I can criticize from my personal dissatisfaction what is and isn't, but the fact is that from the first grade I had problems at that school (mostly with ridicule), I even have information that a teacher who didn't teach my class gossiped with some of the class about the conditions I lived in (what, is being poor a shame?) and no one took me seriously, guilt is always turned on me- and for P.E., and for being unsociable, and for the need to sit at my desk during breaks instead of going outside... There have been some very unpleasant situations, but I try to forget as much as I can because my psyche is getting worse, I don't need to think about it with all the current problems. I'm not going to attack anyone anyway, it wouldn't mean anything to me from this position - I can't turn back time and repair the damage. That's what's left for me.

***

- New school- ("Door of the Soul")

End of elementary school. Unbelievable paranoia. Again I'm afraid about how they're going to accept me in high school. I've heard terrible stories about high schools and that summer was filled with fear. I remember that year by two things - illnesses and temporary sanctuary in a new school. That year I was diagnosed with diabetes and had some other difficulties that made my summer and autumn go through in agony and severe pain.

In the new department they accepted me nicely - it's true that I was still weird, but at least we got along and didn't come into conflict. I loved styding for food technician and everything we did in practice - it was a lot more fun for me than boring activities in elementary school. It wasn't all perfect, of course, like an old school bus (or a common toilet with no doors, which is why I was seriously considering leaving the school at the beginning, but praise for the school because they renovated everything). Given my anxiety, I took the first bus and I was walking back home to be as calm as possible.

At the end of school, I was devastated that this place would disappear from my life because I loved that place. The beautiful nature around the school, the pile of quiet corners where I sat and created my best works until then, the fun evenings when we pretended that the invisible forces are around us, the forest where I saw the squirrels, and on one occasion the deer, the roads where I walked back home alone or in company, a place where everything that had happened to me before had come to me, but at least it was a safe place for me. I'm grateful to have spent four years there, even though I've missed it since the last time I was there.

In April began practice for the final test. During the fourth year of highschool it was normal for me to submit empty papers in tests, so I came up with a fixed idea of boycotting the graduation exam, fail the test, and then slowly during the summer to learn what I needed because I didn't feel like going to college anyway. It might not have been a strange idea if I hadn't been a great student (second and third year with all A's) so it seems unusual to see in my diploma that I have A's in Serbian and lab pratice, while on graduation exam I got a D with 53 points because I left at least half of it empty. I don't regret it anyway, I don't care. Even an A would mean anything to me, a job in the profession is hard to find, and a diploma stands in vain no matter what.

My favorite topics in Serbian were the ones where could be written about dark topics, because my brain was only capable of that. Even my stories are dark, including this one. Serbian was one of my favorite subjects since elementary school, I went to the competition just in the first grade of highschool even though I was preparing the following year as well. From an early age I was writting poems, later lyrics and stories, and it encouraged me to be better in Serbian. In first grade of primary school I read almost every book for my age that was in the school library, so I was a frequent guest in the library until I grew up a little. I was a member of both the children's and city libraries, but over time I stopped reading as much as I used to because I couldn't find the book to my liking. I often go back to reading my stories because I quickly forget what I've read even though I know the whole plot and the characters of the story.

On the day of the final exam, I was unexpectedly called to come an hour earlier than planned, 20 minutes before the start of the exam (the school is out of town and takes at least 10-15 minutes even by car). I got there last and upset, I assumed there was nothing of that exam and I didn't even think about doing it as best I could. Didn't want to cheat on test (never did it anyway), I scribed the answers I thought I knew and walked out of there.

On the third day of the exam we did pratice in the lab, my pratice was to examine the acidity of hard candy and I passed it with an A.

Graduation. My name has been called. I'm taking my diploma as fast as a fury and moving aside so I don't attract attention. We went to our classroom where we signed some documents. Honestly, I was nervous because my father insisted that my new address be written on the diploma, not the one I was born on, because we could have sold the house at any moment, but that request was not fulfilled. I knew there'd be trouble when I got out.

On my way out of school I headed for a car nearby. My father was mad when he saw that the place of that town was in the diploma and, along with me, he walked into a school where he yelled at some people. He later got in the car and alone went to get the police, ordering me and my mother to wait for him at school. We waited a long time, afraid of what might happen, and then we walked towards the city, in the meantime he arrived and we came home together, in the following days he was angry with me. I'm sorry the last time I was at that school looked like that, he had to ruin that moment for something that was in vain anyway. It's not the first time he's blamed me or anyone else for everything and yelled. I've watched and listened to that play many times.

For me, the high school class was the best I had (it was good in kindergarten too, but it wasn't called a class but a group), I'm grateful they didn't make fun of me and judge me like the others I was in. I hope I haven't done anything wrong to anyone or behave dishonestly towards anyone. Even though I wasn't taking pictures for the board and I wasn't at the prom (didn't do that even in elementary school) I'm glad I didn't have to say that I'm not part of the class like in elementary school (that would certainly be stupid to say when I came to all the classes, but that's not the point of the story). In elementary school I didn't feel like I belonged to that whole that we called the class, together with a few other students we represented someone who was not part of the class, whereas in high school that was not the case (although there were significantly fewer students). As far as I'm concerned, I was more than satisfied with that department, as well as with most of the teachers who taught us, if I hadn't had the problems from before it would probably have been one of the best times of my life.

***

-Metal / First Concert / Music ("Door of soul")-

In 2012 I fell in love with metal. It's not because of the state I'm in, I just needed serious music. Sharon Den Adele caught my attention first with her styling and then with her voice (I had a "Mother Earth" video on one disc and it caught my attention, I had to watch again because of how much I liked it at first). I wanted to sing like that, which I did with years of practice (with finding my own singing style, of course). At first I was skeptical because there is a stereotype that metal music is evil and that all metalheads are Satanists, which is pure misconception. I'm glad I got rid of that stereotype and let one of the best things in my life take the honorary place of my favorite genre.

In one magazine I read a review of Tarja's first album, "My Winter Storm" and below it was: "For fans of Nightwish and Within Temptation". I went to find a few songs from Nightwish and Tarja. I found Tarja's songs later, but that's why I found about 30 Nightwish songs and a few songs from Within Temptation. I liked what I heard since I hadn't listened to metal before, but at first I liked WT better because of the more soft sound. I got used to the tougher sound in the meantime and soon became a Nightwish fan. Over the next year I read about the symphony metal and the history of the band, got more songs, loved more bands like Delain, Xandria, Epica, After Forever, Imperia, Lunatica, Evanesence... (The story is from 2015, so now the list of bands I listen to is even longer ;))

In October 2014 I saw on Tarja's official website that as part of the "Colors on the Road" tour she will also visit Belgrade! Of course I wanted to go and my wish came true - I saw my favorite singer and one of my role models in person! Frankly, the situation in the house, as far as money is concerned, wasn't perfect, but there was some money for that unique event.

6. November 2014: At about ten o'clock my father and I took a bus to Belgrade. They wouldn't let me go alone and I think it was a smart decision (even though I was an adult). We arrived around 4 p.m. and it was already dark. Since I hadn't left the house in months, I was very nervous that I suddenly found myself in such a rush. Belgrade is a beautifully decorated city, but too hasty for my taste. We went to a student park to take a break from walking fast. Outside the SKC people gathered, or better to say people of my age, who couldn't wait for the door to open. My father and I walked to the Temple of St. Sava, looking at the store's windows. I was sleepy because I tend to go to bed early, and the concert started at 8:00 P.M. ( yes, it was late for me, I'm a pensioner without a pension). All I took was tissues, a ticket and a cell phone with me, my father took my purse with him. Outside I spoke to two Belgraders who are also Tarja's fans, it calmed me down a bit because I have a fear when I find myself among a lot of people (yes, the perfect trait for someone who was trying to make his own band). The door was open, so we went in a group of few for a security check. We climbed the stairs to the door where we entered the concert hall. When that door opened I rushed to stand closer to the stage because at 5'1" of height I couldn't see much behind. I was about five feet away from the stage.

The elation grew. The opening-act was the band Crimson Blue from Russia, whose performance I liked because their vocals had a lovely melodic soprano voice. I also have to say that she was beautiful on stage, she looked like a fairy. They made a great atmosphere with a cover of the song "Bring Me To Life" which the audience sang chorally. When their performance was over there was elation again. The crowd shouted "Tarja, Tarja!" and she was still behind stage. After a while, the musicians started coming to the stage and eventually she came out, dressed in a black shirt and a long black skirt, she sang "In for a kill" that I didn't know until then. During the concert I couldn't completely relax but I did my best to enjoy my first concert.

I sang along to songs I more or less knew because learning lyrics takes a while for me (I know a certain amount but I happen to mix it up or forget something). During the performance Tarja changed clothes twice - first in a red top and a long black skirt, later in the outfit from the "Victim of ritual" video. I couldn't believe she was so close to me, it was like a dream. At the end of the performance she showed Naomi (her daughter, back then still a baby) an audience from the backstage, which completely delighted the audience satisfied by a great performance and the voice of the most famous soprano in symphonic metal. Personally, I most enjoyed the song "Until My Last Breath", although I was in pleasant shock when she performed "Over the Hills and Far Away" in the very end, but also enjoyed the songs "Mustique Voyage", "My Winter Storm", "Victim of Ritual", "Wish I Had an Angel", "Neverlight", "Die Alive"...

I ended up leaving the building the same way. I was worried the whole time if my father was bored or waiting for me, so I was in a hurry to get out. My legs hurt a lot and I had dizziness from dehydration, but I didn't want to think about it until we got to the bus station. It started raining along the way, so we were in a hurry. The concert was over at 11:00 p.m., and the bus to Nis was leaving around 1:00 a.m., so we waited for it. We got home in the morning, looking forward to a take a break from the trip.

From music, apart from sympho metal, I like different kinds of metal (melodic, gothic, power, thrash, folk / ethno metal, heavy metal, nu metal, industrial metal, doom metal, I listen to black and death metal as well when I like a song, you could freely say all subgenres), classical music, rock, disco, dance, electronic dance, Eurovision music, ethno, dark ballads, pop, indie-pop, Celtic ethno music and so on. Tin brass instruments aren't very close to my heart (right now, I don't know if it's going to stay that way) by that I mean jazz music as well as trumpet players (and I actually the most dislike our native turbo folk music, while I have good opinion about jazz, I just don't listen to it), but there's at least one song in every genre that I might like. Mostly I listen more to female performers than men because it's easier for me to observe women's voices. Of the classic vocals I very much liked Diana Damrau, the dramatic coloratura soprano best known for the aria "Queen of the Night", one of the most versatile in opera. My favorite type of vocal is the lyrical coloratura soprano, a gentle high voice that can accompany rapid changes in the melody, and most admire the dramatic contralto (the deepest female voice) and the soprano sfogato accuto (the highest female voice), represented by Mado Robin who performed the Note Bb6 in full voice. As for Maria Callas, her voice was capable of performing both mezzo-soprano and contralto sections, which is not easy. She is classified as a soprano sfogato (meaning she is capable of singing on multiple registers).

My voice... I'm not sure if it's leggero soprano (a coloratura that can't reach F6), a character soprano (i.e. to change the color of a voice depending on the role) or a lyrical soprano, but I do my best to be as good as I can in what I do. I like to experiment with low tones, but I avoid the middle register as much as possible, it takes twice as much power than singing in the fifth octave, which I use the most. Although I am more than satisfied that I was able to publish (all) my stories, music will always be something I practice most and in which I truly want to express myself, but there has never been an opportunity. It would be one of the biggest disappointments of my life, that I never show what I can and have worked on for years.

***

- Four different persons in my head ( "Door of the Soul")-

Since the lower grades, two persons have emerged in my head; I'm not talking about alter-ego, she's part of my imaginary doll world, but different personalities that create me as a whole. At first there were two - I don't know how they were created, I just suddenly became aware of them at some point. The first person was called Suza; At the beginning was a cheerful natured but also naïve, it was the opposite of another person I call Suzia, which at the time was a grumpy side and reason for me. Meanwhile Suzy, the artistic side, came in seamlessly, and in the end Susan appeared as a fourth person. At first, Suza and Suzia argued because the side of reason has always been more careful when it comes to people. Mostly I would listen to the side of reason because I trusted her, while forgetting that I was just a child who should enjoy the years of childhood. Suza has completely changed and become a (self) destructive side. These two still have long conversations full of different arguments and philosophies, thereby reaching some very unusual theories and knowledge. The main problem is that all four together represent chaos because of their contradictions.

Number one- Suza: At first she was a cute little girl with hair tied up in two tails and dressed in pink, but over time she turned into a monster who was still tearing my soul apart with delight. Sarcasm and cynicism are part of almost every statement she says, her speech sounds wicked if she's talking about someone. Her colors are pink (at first) and black (now), where pink symbolizes purity and black chaos of destruction.

Appearance (shown as): Hair tied into two tails, a black corset or corset t-shirt (arms are covered), fingerless gloves, black trousers, dark make-up, short boots and jewelry of simple color.

Traits: Dark, morbid, bitter, misanthrope, cruel, pessimistic (fatalist), powerful, without mercy, sarcastic, emotionless, aggressive, dangerous, avenger, does not let anyone humiliate her/ to mistreate her.

Life goal: To kill me, sometimes wants revenge.

Psychological problem: Obsessed with suicide, can become dangerous to others

Secret desire: To kill me, sometimes wants revenge

Her domain: Death, suffering, bad memories, makes the mind stronger and weaker at the same time.

Personality type: Previously ENFP, now ESTJ/ ENTJ

Number two- Suzia: The second person who came into my mind represents wisdom, but also depression. At first I thought she was just a grumpy, but she turned out to be the center of my being and the source of the deepest thoughts in my mind. Speaks in a deep, clear voice. Her color is blue, otherwise my favorite color, which at the same time symbolizes wisdom and coldness.

Appearance (shown as): Ponytail, blue turtleneck/ blouse, black trousers, flat shoes, mild make-up or no makeup.

Traits: Intelligent, logical, mature, quiet, practical, realistic, fair, stubborn, emotionless (with a high sense of morality), modest, prone to overannalysing, emotionally empty, not sensitive/ feminine at all.

Life goal: To find peace in her mind.

Psychological problem: Depression

Secret desire: Mostly wants nothing, sometimes wants to feel anything because her heart is emotionally numb to the core

Her domain: Giving reasons for all actions, thinking about potential developments, planning, learning, philosophy, psychology, problem solving.

Personality type: ISTJ/ INTJ (because her philosophical theories are abstract but she is able to analyze and connect what is part of the real world to work as efficiently and quickly as possible)

Number three- Suzy: The artistic side, rarely participates in discussions and is lost in a world of her own. She's in charge of everything to do with creation and art, she has more artistic interests. She tears easily and is so afraid of communication that she's on the verge of tears when she has to talk to someone. Her voice is quiet and gentle. Her color is purple, a color that represents the spiritual sphere of life and creativity.

Appearance (shown as): Two braids, a purple shirt and purple trousers, flat shoes, usually have a painting kit in hand.

Traits: Artist, poet, creative, pityful, understands others, anxious, quiet, spiritual, kind-hearted, naïve, afraid to hurt others, paranoid, tolerant...

Life goal: To be a real artist

Psychological problem: Anxiety

Secret desire: To create art without borders and to be known as an artist/ that someone likes her art

Her domain : Art (including music), kind interactions with humans, interactions with animals.

Personality type: INFP

Number four- Suzan: Because of her swift action on the "all or nothing" principle often leads to problems. Often has a fixed ideas and cannot calm down until she realizes them, but most of these ideas have very little or no benefit, which is why she often receives criticism from other personalities. She speaks with a different accent, has a melodic voice. She doesn't have a strictly determined domain like the others, probably because is the last one who came, but in different circumstances her main domain would be love and questions of the heart. She's the only one of the four personalities who, from time to time, actually wants to communicate with others. Her main colour is red, which for me marks a burst of emotions, accompanied by green, which in this case means eccentricity.

Appearance (shown as): Let-down hair, stylish jewellery, intense make-up, long-sleeved dress (usually red and green) with ornaments, tights, shoes with slightly higher heels.

Traits: Passionate, inspired by clothes, obsessive, romantic, low self-esteem (mostly), hates comments about her body (and appearance), indecisive, "all or nothing" attitude, impulsive

Life goal: To look more attractive/ normal

Psychological problem: Eating disorders/ specific food habits/ signs of BPD

Secret desire: To accept herself

Her domain: Food, Love/ Romance/ Passion, Other

Personality type: ESFP

***

- Moving out ("The Door of the Soul")-

Long-awaited move happened in not so good time during February 2015., so we packed things in the biggest cold. We sold the house for considerably less money than its value because the situation had already begun to be unbearable. Years before that I was slowly packing my things but there was still too much to pack. I've spent my whole life here. Since I feel like I died at the age of 16, I've really spent my whole life there. I tried not to think about it and pack as many things as I could because we only had three weeks to move out the overcrowded house. It's perfectly normal that all sorts of things have accumulated in the 20 years we've lived in it. I'm like a hamster- I keep everything, even elementary school books.

Last day in the house. In front of our old house there were lots of plants, especially trees. Mulberry trees, two nuts, lilacs, a firtree my parents planted when I was little, apple tree, apricot, pear, cherry, linden... In the garden we had lots of hyacinths, irises and tulips, which I loved to give to the primary school teacher and later to the elementary school teachers. I just love flowers and I loved giving them away because it's a nice gesture and it costs nothing. My favorite flowers are blue roses, but there is no rose variety whose natural color is blue. Every color of a rose associated me with a certain type of woman; Red is feminine, white is elegant, blue is intellectual, yellow is cheerful nature, pink is gentle, purple is creative... I also love hyacinths and lilacs because of the wonderful smell that reminds me of the garden where I grew up, although every flower is nice to me, but only when it is in its natural habitat and not harvested, because it will wither so quickly.

On the day of the move, everything seemed so gloomy. I couldn't believe I was leaving a place that meant so much to me. That town didn't mean to me, just my house. My mother left early in the morning, and my father and I loaded more stuff into the car. All that's left is to take two beings - my dog Jackie and the cat Flecky, whom we later named Blackie on some occasions. It wasn't easy getting Jackie up, my mother was feeding him well and he was quite heavy. After all, he was just lying on scattered stuff in the shed and wouldn't get up from there, so I had to carry him to the car. Still, the cat was a bigger problem, it wasn't hard to lift him but to take him away. He slept next to this cat that I loved, but we couldn't take another animal because we didn't even know where we were going to be until we bought a house.

I broke down in tears and took Flecky, petted the cat and left her to sleep on the chair we left behind. We had a lot of cats, it hurts my heart that we couldn't take them and I don't know what happened to them afterwards, the hell with a sudden move in the middle of February. I wish I'd killed myself before I had to leave those dozen cats I'd looked after since birth, I'm sick of it every time I remember how we had to leave town as if we'd been banished from it (in a way we did, we didn't even have the money to survive and the municipality, the neighbours and one jerk of the lawyer led us to it and they still want more). Then someone asks me why I'm bitter and tells me that "someone has worse problems and doesn't complain", I'm aware that there are all kinds of people with all sorts of problems and I respect that, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to let someone disrespects what happened to me, if my soul breaks every time I mention it then it's hard and important. I had the opportunity to have one person, with whom I had conversation with for a year and a half, write that
"there are girls who tend to live even worse but they don't complain" even though I have sincerely written about my situation (and that same person then sends me a message as if there was nothing wrong with it, I can apologise for every little thing and obviously no one apologises to me no matter how offended me), such things I do not want to tolerate, especially from people who have been lucky enough that their situation in the family is stable, that no one attacks them and they haven't been in a situation where they can't even buy a food (literally). This is a reminder for me, and a lesson to others, not to waste time on people to whom your words mean nothing and to people who would like only positive people without a single problem by their side, every man has his pain that he cannot constantly ignore so that someone next to him can always be happy, and not all problems can be solved with one obvious "solution" as if we were all in the "questions and advice" section of some magazine. Life is more complicated than that. I know how to come up with such "advice" that can't actually be done in reality, without shifting the blame on me that I sabotage myself or whatever because I didn't do acording to it. I appreciate someone trying around me no matter how much it is, but I can't pretend to be someone I'm not and even go over things that offend or hurt me. Damn it, I wrote a lot about it while I started about the 24th of February 2015, I'm going back to where I left off.

Back to the day of the move. We put the cat in a makeshift cage so he wouldn't run away, but he got away before we left. My father and I went into the half-empty room one more time. The green family clock we left on the wall showed nine hours. We looked at the house from the inside one more time and we cried. He built that house, I've been in it since I was born. We left some of the old, but functional, furniture for the new owner, although it was immediately thrown out (it would have been better if we had at least taken our stuff, but we couldn't make it because we had to move quickly, the sixth-hundreds of euros went only to transport things to the other side of the country, here it's a lot of money). If we'd known these things would end up in the hands of the people that made us leave that house, we'd rather burn them in the middle of the yard than let the vultures go down in our way. If you had lived there you would have understood my wrath and even wondered why I hadn't expressed more anger. Never mind, and this is enough.

We go out and close the door in tears, looking around to see if we can get any more little thing that we're attached to. Avoiding looking at cats so I wouldn't start crying any more, I got in the car and waited for us to leave. I spoke to Jackie, who didn't understand what was going on and who was calmer than me. I have to admit, I haven't seen him in a while, even though he was in the yard, because I was too paranoid to leave the house. I knew I'd have time to make it up to him now if I missed anything. Father started the car. It's the last time we're out of our yard. He locked the gate, then cried again, more than before.

He stopped by my uncle's work place for a few minutes, then parked his car near where I'd been waiting for the bus before, from where he went to sign a contract that the house was now in the hands of another owner. I looked a little bit into the distance, a little bit at Jackie and a little bit at the cat that got out of the makeshift cage and lay down to sleep in the back. I listened to music on my mp3 to forget for a moment that I was just running out of the most important place in my life. Luckily the first folder was a metal music folder, it pulled me out of reality. I secretly hoped to see someone I knew, say goodbye to someone... My parents said goodbye to the people they were in contact with, and I could only say goodbye to the cats, through they wouldn't understand what was going on.

When the signing of the contract was completed, we headed to my mother's village to have my father secure the truck that was standing there because it was not in driving condition. I'm sorry we had to sell it, that truck saved us in moments when we didn't have any income, drove us to different places, but there was no point in buying new parts because it would be too big an investment.

I insisted on taking the road leading to my high school, which I could only see from a distance. We passed a nearby monastery and took the usual route to the village. At the beginning of the village we heard a strange sound and we wondered what it might be. Turns out it was a cat that was sick at a bad time. We're here. The cat came out and my father chased him while I was cleaning up the mess that was left after the cat. When the cat was a little better, we put him back in the car and I waited at grandfather's house for my father to finish this job. It was gloomy and grey all day (I wouldn't have imagined it better) and it fit tediously into the atmosphere of the whole event. When we (finally) left, the cat stood over me and watched the road. He was very funny to me, so I forgot what happened in the morning that day. We arrived at the end of the day and started planning what to do next. 24.02.2015.

In the following days we desperately searched for a house for the money we got from home, and in the end we decided to finish the house started on our lot even though there were some problems. During the move-in, namely on the second day of the official move into one room that was cold, but ours (until then we slept for about a month in a rented house for seasonal workers on the other side of the village), I lost my dog Jackie, the best friend in my life. Jackie came out with me on my way home, one of the cars was going very slowly but somehow hit him, I don't understand how. I can't forget my little friend lying in the middle of the road in a pool of blood, eyes open, dead. The driver continued the journey as if he hadn't even seen that he hit the dog, so my parents yelled for him and that's when he came back. That couldn't bring back the dog I was most attached to. I cried for three hours straight, blaming myself for not being careful when he came after me. And now I know I'm guilty, but I swear I didn't know that car that was going five kilometers per hour would kill him; I'd already made it home, so I thought he was around me, too... Until I heard the sound and saw the sight that shocked me...

Jackie was brought to our house when he was an older puppy. He was scared of the older dog Gina so he hid behind the bed, I took him in my arms and tried to calm him down. He fell asleep in my arms. He slept next to me and he used to crawl under the quilt when it was bedtime. He didn't have a problem with the photo shoot, so I liked to take a picture of him. We shared food, but I didn't give him candy or anything like that. He also got ill when he was younger, but I tried my best to help him because I quickly bonded with him. We bought pills and gave him medicine every day, he ended up surviving the battle for his life. He had asthma and it was a bigger health problem for him. When Bubi came along, the decision was made for Jackie to be out together with him. They were well fed and cared for, but I was so sorry he wasn't around me anymore. I wanted to make it up to him. I didn't make it.

His sad eyes will never look at me again. I hope at least he left happy to have my endless love.

Since then, other things have happened: my father's younger brother passed away in 2016, in May the following year and my grandfather by father, a lawyer from the former city continued to torture us, he sent some people to make inventory of our stuff (what more to take away from us, bastards have already took too much and no one reacted even though we complained) and took a piece of our property even though we didn't do anything to him (and this police here instead of protecting us forced us to pay fine in the end of autumn when it was the hardest, well done! - we should have received some help or at least to get health care -in Serbia basic health care is free- because we're all ill, and instead they're punishing us and they've taken my father to prison in former city as if he were a criminal). As if that problem wasn't enough, there are problems with neighbours again (why can't people fix their damn documents and not let someone else pay for it?! That's what they did in the city, so it turned out they weren't right, yet we lost everything because of their stupidity), as well as one accident where we had the most damage and yet the money is taken from us. Namely, some fool with goats was crossing the road near the bridge, the ambulance vehicle had to abruptly avoid them and hit my father on one side, thereby destroying the tire (which we recently bought), the tin around it and scratching the truck, as truck was hit it got to one parked car, smashing part of his light a little bit. The ambulance vehicle escaped (before the accident he was in the pub), and the owner of the parked vehicle got out, yelled at my parents and asked for 200 euros for damage (neither the damage was that big nor did we have that amount of money, the last money from the house was took for that trip), then he called the police and they had to make statements all night, the goal was to blame my father. Yes, surely, a person who managed to avoid a kitten in the middle of the night on the road on an unlit section will hit a parked car out of nowhere. The fool with the goats, who caused all that, he still came to watch and laugh, police didn't take statements from him and we were the only ones who had to pay both to them and to buy a new tire. I'm sick of these events when I know we're not guilty and they keep setting us up. The freaken hell with a system that allows such things, I don't feel like staying on this planet at all where you have to waste years of your life to prove you're not guilty, things like that have pretty much made it worse for me. I can no longer watch the world tolerate lies and take them for the truth, while those who tell the truth are found guilty. I don't want to live in such a sick world.

***

- Pets ("Door of the Soul")-

It seems to me that the animals we take care of are unlucky even though we love them very much and are part of our family. The first dog I remember in my life was called Cassandra. She was the first dog they most likely poisoned. The first cats we had died on a dangerous road outside our former house. Of those first cats I remember Gordan, whom my grandmother by father and cousin brought in on their way back from the fair. He was later joined by my longest-time dog Gina. She was specific to the fact that I'd been anxiously waiting for her since the day her owner promised to give us a non-breeded pekingese, but also because she was very grumpy and didn't like to be photographed unlike Jackie. She died of old age, which is no surprise since we kept her in the room.

Gordan died long before that on the road one winter night. We had a few kittens after that, including Srecko (Lucky) who my father took out of the way when he went to a village for business. He stopped the truck at the last minute when he and his family ran out into the road. The others escaped, and Lucky sat scaredly on the road just inches from the wheels. My parents took it and brought it to me. I wasn't thrilled with the idea of having another cat in my life because I knew what fate awaited them if they got out on the road. Hell, I was right. We haven't taken cats in a while after it.

My mother never got over the loss of a mixture of dalmatian and sarplaninac Maza (Cuddly), I can't remember her well because I was very young, but that's why I remember her namesaker, a colorful non-breeded dog that was in our backyard. She had a puppy we named Jessica that looked very much like Jackie. Both Maza and Jessica had a bad fate - like Cassandra, they were poisoned most likely by people I don't want to mention. It was painful, but it wasn't the last time I lost my pets.

In the meantime, I got a canary named Kicha as a gift, who belonged to my parent's friends. He was tame, so we let him fly around the house because we were sure he wouldn't run away. We bought him a girlfriend, Kathia I, who I'm not sure if she ran away or died. I know about Kathia II that she ran out of the house and hid in a tree, but we didn't find her. Katya III outlived Kicha, so we got a new canary, but every male next to her died quickly because she was too aggressive. After the last male we bought, we gave up another try and left her to enjoy the rest of her life, which didn't last long after that.

One rainy evening we welcomed two of the puffiest puppies I've ever had into the house. They were unreal adorable - one was brown and I called him Meda (Teddy bear), and the female was black and I called her Lilly. We soon realized they were sick and getting worse, but I stood by them until the last minute.

Bubi and Lesi were two other adorable puppies - most likely non-breeded golden retrievers - who came after us on our way home. We fed them and asked if they had an owner, but no one came for them, so we kept them. Again, both puppies got sick, but Bubi barely survived and became stronger. Along with Jackie, he moved into a dog house their father built for them because we didn't want to tie them up, we were afraid they'd poison them.

As for the cats, it all started with two cats that appeared one day in our backyard. There were cats before that that would have kittens in our backyard, but they didn't belong to us. That cat gave birth to four kittens: Zucha, White, Sivka (Grey) and Tigress. Cats can have kittens twice a year, so we had a lot of cats within two years. We had to feed them all, which wasn't easy financially, but we managed and no cat was hungry. They died mostly on the road or from injuries they had outside our backyard. What I feel the most sorry for were the little ones who had some eye disease and stayed blind (usually on one eye) because of it. I tried to help those kittens as much as I could because I didn't want them to feel rejected. I called one of the cats Mika and looked after her for things that might have hurt her. I didn't let her go from the closed terrace she was in, I was afraid she'd go far and get lost. On one occasion she went somewhere and I haven't seen her since. I searched the whole yard and I couldn't find her.

The number of cats has decreased and there are fewer than ten cats left. Bubi suffered the same fate as Jessica, Maza and Cassandra when he found a way out of closed dog house. Flecky hasn't shown up for six months, who knows where he's been, and he got back at home. My parents decided to take him with us.

After we move we took one dog, Johnny, who went somewhere (we took two puppies, the other was taken by a friend of my father), we looked around the neighborhood. During his stay, an elderly schnauzer stopped under the truck one rainy day, I gave him food and he stayed with us. Since we didn't know if he had an owner, my father tried to take him to the village, but he was coming back. When Johnny left the schnauzer stayed, so Chupko (Fluffy) has been officially part of our family ever since. During the summer months I cut his fur, we took him to the river as well. He had an injury to his skull when he fought a three times bigger dog to defend kittens, and he barely survived.

While Flecky was still with us, my parents brought two kittens; We planned one, but it didn't make sense to leave one alone. The male cat was named Blackie and I most often called the female kitty Kiflica (Little roll), so it's her official name (I give cats a lot of nicknames so it turns out they have multiple names). They were tame from the beginning and they'd start to pürr as soon as I touched them, they liked to climb on our shoulders. Kiflica liked me to carry her on my shoulder, so I went around the yard with her like that. One day in the garden I heard another kitten, I took it and brought it to Kiflica and Blackie's and named it Tigeress. The three kittens got along solidly, often sleeping next to each other. For some reason, Kiflica wasn't growing a lot and she was very thin, but she still grew to my heart the most and she slept next to me all the time. Flecky, meanwhile, disappeared, it's not known what happened to him since, and one day Kiflica disappeared too. A few days later we heard from the neighbors that their dog and she had died together at their gate, most likely from poison.

Tigeress soon had five kittens: Zucha (Yellow), Srechica (Hapiness), Lav (Leo), Zvezdica (Star) and Tassa. Zucha, yellow and white kitten that was first born, died a few days after birth. Tigress disappeared a few weeks later, probably she died of poison, which is worst of all and the kittens brought poison into the body via milk. First the black cat Tassa died, then Zvezdica, then Srechica. Leo started to weaken, we made him eat to survive. Of all cats left him and Blackie. My uncle's female terrier brought puppies to our house, two female puppies died at the beggining and we kept the male Lunja because they wouldn't take the puppies.

We kept chickens and roosters, as well as goats. Goats are wonderful animals, but they're not for our conditions, it was tricky to keep them safe. In the exchange we took two goats, I named them Cakana and Medena (Honey), they had babies Mishko (black and white goat), Boky (brown goat) and Bekica (ash-colored goat) whom I called Njokica because of the "Njooo" sound she made, she was adorable. It was hard to sell them to someone who wouldn't kill them, that's one of the reasons we couldn't keep the goats anymore. We managed to give them to good hands, but I cried when they first took them to sell them, especially how sad Bekica was. It's been hard to separate from them anyway, so I insist we no longer have domestic animals, and we haven't killed any chicken in the last few years how long we have them. Lucky my parents couldn't kill an animal either, even though they consume meat unlike me.

We had another kitten come to us, he kept coming back to us and we kept it. His name was Panda, but I called him Buvi. He was close to me same as Kiflica, and Leo loved him, played with him and slept next to him. He had just grown up and then disappeared in March 2020, we couldn't find him nowhere near or in the vicinity. His disappearance hit me really hard, I spent a month looking around hoping he'd come back.

In the autumn of 2019, from the customers we got a female half-breeded retriever, Bella, during the day we put her outside and let her in at night. We didn't want three dogs, but we just got used to her. In early November she stopped eating, I gave her food and forced her to eat, she died on November 6th that same autumn, I still don't understand where she got sick, the symptoms matched paravirosis. Lunja died in a similar way that same month, possibly by a virus.

I was very sad that Leo died in a similar way as his family. He disappeared around December 21, 2020 and didn't come for a few days, we searched the area for my 25th birthday, and my father found him in the attic the day after in very bad condition. I took care of him and he started to get better, but after a few days there was a sudden deterioration. I thought it was constipation because he was in a lot of pain and I wanted to give him the cure for it, I realized he was dying when he fell down and took him in my arms, where he died. I cried for him for days, we buried him in the yard and I went to that place for days. He died on 31th December 2020, I didn't feel like celebrating anything after that. I just don't understand if and why would anyone hurt him, he was so tame and a very cuddly creature and I'm sure he didn't do any harm. We loved him very much and his death shook us all.

Right now we've got Chupko, the Rocky- half-breeded dog we took in the autumn 2020 because Chupko's already old, and Blackie. Knowing myself, I'll probably keep more animals for the rest of my life, I just hope they don't have as hard an ending as most of them had. I know I'll do my best to take care of them and help them when they need to, hope other cicumstances will be fine too, but it's not up to me, unfortunately.

***

- Parts and the last pages from "The Door of the Soul" (various)

As a baby I had blonde hair and blue eyes, which over time became darker and now are olive green, and my hair turned dark brown in first grade. I was calm as a baby and I loved listening to the radio at night. When I was about three months old, I said my first word imitating the radio host - something that was supposed to be "good evening." My father got scared at first because there was no one else in the room, but then he was sure it was me. I guess I still do a similar thing with music to this day. At that age, they gave me to try beer for the first time, although I don't think it specifically affected me to be an alcohol addict for a while, a lot of other things affected that.

Before going to kindergarten I rarely remember anything except drawing on the notebooks and singing. I still keep my drawing notebooks to remind me of how far I've come. In kindergarten I had my first best friend, every day I brought a car toys and we played with them. There was a perpetual battle between boys and girls over plastic pots - I have no idea why the boys loved those pots so much, but I helped them hide the pots since I came to kindergarten first (and I was in their group from the beginning). Still, a side of girls always got pots in the end.

In kindergarten, the most elations were brought by the plays; Our group had two. In the first I was Cinderella (in the red dress, back then my hair was bright) and in the second I had several roles, one of which was a goat (also my zodiac sign), I was completely dressed in yellow. Now that I'm wearing only black that seems highly unusual to me.

At first I didn't care about anything specific at school. In second grade, I was a little more interested in religious studies because we got a new teacher who knew how to work with us. In first grade I skipped one of the last religious classes, it's probably the only time I ran away unless I counted 25/12/12 when I left class and went to the bridge, but then I didn't run away. In 12 years of schooling I took very little days off even when I was sick, it wasn't very smart for me because now I can't recover from respiratory illness and other stuff.

I enrolled in German language classes in the third grade, but I admit I don't remember almost anything because I concentrated more in English, and it wasn't possible to leave those classes until the end of the eighth grade. As for English, I was doing SO BADLY at the beginning of fifth grade that I thought that nothing will be out of me, but in high school I made a lot of progress (I won't lie, our elementary class teacher was a great teacher and has a great knowledge, but later with music I learned more easily) and now I write lyrics mostly in English and translate my stories (though, mostly, I use a translator to speed things up, but in any case I have to check and fix the translation if I don't already translate it on my own. Thanks to whoever put translator, it saved bunch of my time).

----

I'm scared. I'm very scared. I don't know how something that doesn't last forever can be so scary at all. I'm afraid of life. I want to go.

If I literally wrote what was in my brain, I'd be too paranoid about the fact that what was written could be read. I think almost every person who's been in touch with depression knows how I feel, and I know I can't just stop thinking that way.

I don't remember any more events in my life that I would share with... Well, whoever's reading this. It's just excursions, time spent with my toys and time at school. A normal person would conclude that life is just beginning, and I say- I lived, I died and I'm going to die one more time.

---

That I have a fear of judgment I have already mentioned in "The Scale of Sanity," and I have a feeling I'll never be good to others. I know we should be good to ourselves and then to others, but I won't be good to myself until I'm not good to others. At the same time I don't care about that world and I want to prove myself to it. In this world you have to be original because everything has already been seen, even human errors. They say we're all unique, but is that true? All humans are made in the same pattern, only with a difference that we call uniqueness. The set of all my qualities makes me unique. We've seen it before. On this planet, originality no longer exists. I could write my thoughts here for a long time, but I'm running out of room, which is good because I know to get lost in the maze of my mind.

Without reincarnation, our entire existence seems pointless. Of so many religions, none can be said to be "real" ie. that it has evidence behind it for what happens after death (and even science has failed to figure it out till now). In our religion, it is believed that a person goes either to heaven or to hell. All people make mistakes because they are made to balance between right and wrong (but it is difficult to determine what constitutes "good" and what is "bad" because everyone has different definitions of it). Then why does their fate in the afterlife have to be decided in such an extreme way? That's why I think reincarnation exists, because the whole hell and heaven story sounds too drastic.

It would be better if I went to philosophy college, I'm thinking about the meaning of life all day anyway, come up with metaphors for things that I explain to myself, and eventually I go back to the same thing. I still regret not going to music school, but I'd get bored over time and there would be nothing out of it. Opera singers must always be in shape and their health must be impeccable, which in my case is impossible. When I was little, I wanted to be a poet, a vet, a bussinesswoman or a designer... There was also a constant desire to sing. As far as acting is concerned I don't think I'm very photogenic, but changing voices and fooling around is usual thing for me.

When I write stories I imagine all these scenes like in a movie. I can't imagine this story that way, I can only remember it. This isn't my movie, these are pieces of the puzzle that still don't make up a whole. This story was supposed to represent everything I wanted to say before I died. One night it occurred to me to write this story, which turned into some kind of autobiography. Who would better write an introvert's biography than herself? It's not that I have something to say, it's that I just want to share what I still remember. Life goes too fast and people rarely remember anything these days. Future generations will remember the images, not the events. That's why I didn't even want to take a picture at my first concert, I want to remember the event as long as possible. Now that I've written it down, it's sure to last longer.

Many times I have "made" movies with barbies in the game, taking pictures of the "crew" of the movie, without remembering the complete plot of the movie, sometimes barely remembering what it was about. That's why I wrote this story down. If anything, if I'm alive, I'll open up a story and read who I was a long time ago, in another life that belonged to a chubby little girl who dreamed of a different future. I'll remember her fear, her tears after school, her hopes that flew like birds straight into the engine of the plane that chopped them... Too morbid, I know. I'm morbid. Life is morbid. Life is more morbid than death.

I don't miss that girl. She still lives in one of my stories. The characters in the story can't die because they're not alive. Imagination makes them alive, and my imagination keeps her alive. My imagination returns to a place of horror in my dreams. There's no escaping. There's no deleting the past. There's no question what to do. There's no more sanity in my mind. When the dream returns me to that place I'll feel like that little girl - I'll be scared, sad and confused about the fact that I'm still here. But I'm going to run away. She'll still be there. Forever. Until my last second on this planet, she'll remain locked in that building, begging me to save her. I'm sorry I just made things worse, I couldn't save her from a torrent of negative feelings that came out so fast. No... It wasn't a surprise. I ignored her. That's why she pulled me out and brought me to this desert island.

The girl wanted to leave that place, and I want to leave this world.

Now I understand something I didn't realize until now - she trusted me. She thought I was going to help her lose weight, that I was going to help her be happy, that I was going to win her crush, that I was going to sing. Instead, I've starved myself, I suffer from depression and anxiety, I despise love in my life and sincerely hope I'll never get in a relationship. I still have the last one left. If I let her down, I won't be able to live with that this time. I won't be able to live without it either, but the fact that all the effort will fail is worse than death. That's why I'm waiting. Only for that.

By now, you've realized that I don't value life, but what's left after it. This does not apply to material - we all know well that houses, fields and similar properties can be sold, money spent and people and animals lost in a moment. Science is eternal, art is eternal, music is eternal, nobility is eternal, and even evil is eternal (Sounds familiar? I liked the thought so much that I called the second part of "Black Follower" that way). There's still a lot of eternal stuff, it's just important to find yourself. Even if I fall, I know I've tried, so it'll be easier for me to lose.

I hate to summarize something at the end of the story, honestly, I can't even remember what I wrote from the beginning. There's a lot of notes in this story or no, depends on the reader. This is/ WAS my life. One of the notes is that long-term bullying in childhood can really affect the quality of life in adulthood, and sometimes even completely block some aspect of life. Another note is that while one person is silent and pretends that everything is fine, it doesn't necessarily mean that it's always like that. The third note is "Stop writing the notes, you're running out of writing space."

She's right, we should end this farce, I mean, the story. In this story I avoided mentioning the names of people (except for the names of musicians that don't count). Maybe some of them would recognize themself, but that wasn't my goal. My goal was to write a story about myself and who I was (but in "13 Deaths" and some other stories I was allowed to put on those morbid details, while "The Door of the Soul" had to be a little censored for that matter). This may not be all I wanted to say, but it's enough. Once I'm off this strange planet, this story will be proof that I was alive because art is eternal.

The End
Suzana Ristic Suza
15.12.2015 17:30h, ten days before entering the third decade

(Parts cut out from the story were the ones where I've written about depression, anxiety, self-harm, anorexia and similar topics, I've already written about it more extensively in some other stories, so I don't want to repeat, I've been looking for parts that I don't remember mentioning anywhere or if they were mentioned somewhere - I wouldn't count too much on my memory, better to mention that)

***

- BONUS CHAPTER!-

- Bridge (short suicide poem)-

Your beauty lays across the river
Your higness makes my heart shiver
This person on you is a dreamer
Tonite turned into the killer...

- Tree (short suicide poem) -

You will be my last home
When everyone leaves me alone,
My soul will sleep in your crown
Until it's simply gone...

-Questions and my weird answers from a ask. fm (or "Why is it smarter not to answer questions ever in my life")-

Q: Do you agree that pet shops should not sell animals?
A: I agree with that, there are so many abandoned animals that I don't see the point of making a business with breeded animals when animals love us the same no matter what kind they are. Unlike us humans animals don't discriminate, we should ask ourselves if we're worthy of them, not the opposite.

Q: Would you make a difference in your past?
A: If I could change my past there would be no present for me. Luckily, the present is nothing more than the past of some future, so it's never too late for anything. There's no bad timing, it doesn't matter at the end anyway when we as individuals become the past without the present or the future.

Q: What do you want right now?
A: KCN. Some dark chocolate would be nice as well. (oh, wait, I don't eat sweets this late... Oh well, in which case just KCN for me, thanks).

Q: If you had $5 left in your pocket, what would you spend it on?
A: I guess I can't buy enough heroin with that.

Q: What in life don't you understand? (something like that, I forgot the question)
A: The functioning of people's emotions (which is ironic because I'm something close to empath, I understand other people's emotions but I don't have my own, following the system they hate instead of finding their way, choosing hatred instead of understanding, creating divisions among people to offend everyone who isn't like them (I'm talking about the characteristics we were born with, I think it's insane to insult someone because, for example, the color of the skin because we don't choose what color our skin will be), the functioning of society as a whole, the basic human urge for surviving, reproduction and socialization, There are a lot of things that confuse me and amaze me at the same time, and most of them are related to the functioning of the human mind.

Q: I thought by this time in my life, I'd...
A: Be dead. I really thought I would.

A (I started writing for myself): I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I'm losing it. I can no longer trust my own brain from the paranoia that consumes me, slowly but surely I'm going mad. I don't know what's right anymore, who to trust, who's a friend and who's in my life just out of decency and moral obligation. Life was so much easier when I didn't have any communication at all, there was no fear.

Translation to this picture under:
Q: Describe yourself in 5 words, 1 quote or 1 image. Or video. However you want.
A: Tarot cards described me the best yesterday, I have nothing to add. It's a destiny.

(On photo under it is a tarot card 13- Death.)

-The answers I posted seemed interesting to me, so I saved them. I haven't had a profile there for months, but I think it's fun to answer all sorts of questions, but for other reasons I wouldn't go back there. There were more other answers on a philosophical basis but I didn't save them or remember them.

I end this random with this chapter because I don't like too many chapters even though there aren't too many texts (the exception is "Encounter the Future", it turned out to be very long, sorry about it) so I'm going to stop here, at least for now. I could have left it available for another chapter but it brings me some anxiety when the story is still ongoing, I prefer to finish it as soon as possible, so I'll do it now. I hope you liked at least some thought or anecdote, I was missing one such "random" story where I could post all sorts of things and these two stories that remained outside the official collection, I felt like it wasn't all over even though all other stories are done. Uh, it's February 17th, 4:00 p.m., the ninth anniversary of my chaos... Time has flown by, and I've had it all the same since that day nine years ago, only the years are lined up one after the other. I'm stopping here, and thank you so much for taking your time to read all the crazy things I've written, I really appreciate it and I wish all the best to you, fullfil your dreams and don't be morbid like me <3.

The End
S.R.S.
February 17, 2021 (i.e., I just noticed that the numbers are the same as those in 2012), four PM

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