keep it in your fucking head and stop COMPLAINING

stupid bitch

как же я сейчас чувствую этот трек

я ещё мало того что откровенно заёбываюсь на работе так мне ещё и мозг вне неё ебут косвенно и напрямую о да давайте как вкусно

i don't know why do i still tell my friends about it, why do i keep being honest when it's unnecessary, when it makes them pull away because they do not understand and get tired of my feelings and emotions

is there even any point in sharing?

no one will ever choose you, no matter how hard you try, no matter how good they feel with you and how close you are, you're always the second option, the sublimation concentrated in a person, a vessel to use and trash after they're done and their real desire at least looks at them

told you that you won't ever be happy

я не хочу читать чужие бессмысленные аффирмации

в этой жизни меня не ждёт ничего, абсолютно

i feel my heart beating in my chest, slamming against my lungs and ribcage, desperately asking to be heard

this desperation is unmatchable, like a wild bird that a cruel man put in a golden cage for his sick entertainment, breaking its bones trying to escape this prison, unwilling to bow down to its awful master and accept this fate

and i believe this bird will break this cage, healing its bones, and fly to the place it cherished once

I love you.

Why are you so beautiful?..

⠀⠀⠀The ash dances on the floor, picked up by the wind, swirling around my feet as I look up at the sky. Deep red spills around the clouds, framing them with burnt marks, as if they were caught in a fire. My head spins with nausea, the anxiety rising in my throat. I press my forehead into my hand, cursing under my breath in my native language, unable to stop myself before doing so.

⠀⠀⠀"Is everything ok?" you ask, coming out to the balcony, lightly touching one of my shoulders. As friendly and caring as usual.

⠀⠀⠀"No," I confess. Is there any point in trying to hide it now? So many years had passed since I accepted the fact that I have feelings for you, painfully desperate in how warm they are. An inherently human desire mixed with hopes and dreams unreachable.

⠀⠀⠀My eyes are visibly red and wet from tears, no matter how hard I try to hide it behind my hair or to swiftly wipe them before they fall, pressing my fingertips to my tear-ducts. Each little step you take is like another nail in the coffin. I feel my poor little heart clench as you get even closer, beating so fast I feel it echo in my whole body as if I'm standing under church bells.

⠀⠀⠀"What happened?"

⠀⠀⠀The flood is inevitable when a dam breaks.

⠀⠀⠀"I made it. Made it here. I was working towards it for several years, constantly fighting with myself, and I succeeded. I thought that this," I vaguely wave my hand in your direction and then flicker the butt of my cigarette to the street below before it burns my fingers, "would be enough. That I will be happy with... бля, ну почему это так сложно? На кой хуй ты мне такой на голову свалился?.." I ask him, perfectly knowing that he won't understand the question.

⠀⠀⠀"What?" your polite smile is now crooked, unnatural, as something shines through your eyes like a light of a beacon in the middle of the storm.

⠀⠀⠀"You know," I pull out another cigarette, "I've been in love with you for so many years it became a burden. I thought it will pass or that becoming your friend would be enough for me, that it will get easier eventually, but no. It never did."

⠀⠀⠀"You're... in love with me?" you look surprised, looking at me, eyes wide with shock. The regret boils inside me with each drag I take, mixing in with the smoke that escapes my lips, disappearing in the cold winter air.

⠀⠀⠀"Yes," I nod, looking back at your living room, at my award you've kept for me as I wasn't able to attend The Game Awards, waiting patiently for my arrival. Two glasses are set beside it, one of them — yours — half-empty.

⠀⠀⠀"But why?" you ask, your gaze still glued to the forlorn expression on my face, to my red eyes and pale skin, one hand gripping the balcony railings tight. "Why me?"

⠀⠀⠀"If only I knew, Geoff," I whisper. "If only I knew..."

Greetings, Geoff!

I don’t know if you read these kind of letters, but I still wanted to write to you to express my gratitude. I am a hobbyist artist and a writer (mainly in English, which is my second language, to get more practice and for more people to be able to discover my works), working in my free time on small-scale projects of my own or with my friends, a dream of developing a game constantly on my mind. But, sadly, it can be hard for a young woman without proper experience to be taken seriously in this field, especially in a country it barely exists in, so I once left these dreams behind.

Since I got more invested in the stuff you do for the industry — and the amount is phenomenal, even if some people disagree — I found the strength to learn more. I hope you are aware of how much you can impact a person just by your passion for this medium alone. Your excitement is so sincere it becomes really contagious.

One day I hope to not only learn to code and publish some small test projects, but to finish a project I strongly believe in. And, when I get to become a part of this beautiful industry, I hope to become a friend of yours.

Sincerely, Cyberturbine.