01/11/2025

     I had planned to ride my bike to a neighboring village after dark to see the lit candles in the cemetery for All Saints' Day, but my mom told me to put that idea out of my head because it was dark and cold outside, and I was sick, so there was no way I could leave.

     I have a cold, indeed, but for fucks sake, as a kid I used to stuff everything I could into my mouth and not wash my hands acceptable minimum times, I'll be alright.

     One weekend, I went out for a bike ride to collect sticks for horns for my costume. I stopped by some curly-haired red cows. It was a beautiful, sunny day, and the area was peaceful, set back from the main street. There was a huge puddle of rain, a reminder of a stormy week. The sun was like a return of hope, like a fleeting sliver of long-awaited spring. I'm completely dependent on clear skies. I'd stop there more often if there was somewhere to sit. They could put a bench there, even if it's made of a board and two tree stumps.

     I took a few photos of the cows. Maybe I'll finally ask for a digital camera for Christmas.

.°⭑ Some of the pictures I took ꩜⋆.

     I recently (long time ago) had been lucid dreaming. I wrote a few weeks ago about trying to induce one, and a week later it appeared on its own. An all-encompassing, omnipresent humming sound and a quivering vision. A precise, clear point of transition between reality and dreaming, of marching from one realm to another. And then my being was sucked into something behind me or into me. I moved, I thought as if I were awake; everything seemed so clear and real, though with details I noticed that were different from the truth. When I finally woke up, I felt like I'd returned from some journey, some remnant of an experience beyond human comprehension. I'm not spiritual, nor am I taking anything, nothing of the sort. Nevertheless, this event confirmed my belief that dreams are a kind of connection to other dimensions. Part of me believes I traveled between alternate universes that afternoon, metaphorically or not.

     Now that I think about it, I guess that's what started the series of strange, symbolism-laden dreams I've been having lately. There's probably no correlation, though.

     Halloween, 31st October, 2025. My friend group's first Halloween together. Just like last year, only a handful of people at school dressed up this year. This effectively dampened my excitement, because half the magic of Halloween lies in the costumes. It's not the same without them.

     While I was waiting for my parents to deliver my takeout outside the mall, a little girl, convinced I was dressed as an elf (I wasn't, it was Hunter's cosplay from The Owl House), asked if she could take a picture with me. I agreed, whatever, maybe it would make her day, I thought. I just hope I don't end up in some Facebook group for mothers and their fantasy-obsessed kids, because I looked ridiculous in that photo. I ate half of the delivered food, and my friend ate half of the rest. This made me irrationally happy because it didn't look appetizing but she said she'd gladly eat some cause she was hungry, and she wasn't averse to the sloppy food. Shared food is one of the most intimate things I can think of. Besides, I think I'm managing to strengthen the bond with this friend, I'm finally bridging the gap with common topics and following her everywhere like a dog.

     After dark and a stop at my mom's for candy and hot chocolate, we went to one of my friends' houses, where we visit about once a month, which, as it turns out, her mom isn't too happy about. While the three of us (forth had tutoring and couldn't stay longer) were talking about something I, once again, realized how we were breaking the mold we were raised in by communicating our needs and concerns, contrary to what we were taught at home. And that deep down we don't have any hidden hatred for each other, but love, because despite regurgitating memories of situations we resented each other for, in the meantime we made each other laugh with jokes and references. In the room, sitting on bed and chair, listening to music and and the sounds of the street coming from behind the leaky window, we discussed another, related matter, and I was relieved that I wasn't alone in my observations and conclusions. Ultimately, however, I didn't say what I was about to say.

     The conversation had to be cut short because we had to go trick-or-treating with a friend's brother. We passed between apartment buildings through an underground parking garage and using a code that, surprisingly, worked on different intercoms. We got tangled up with a group of neighbors, and it looked like a side quest from some bad comedy movie. On the way back, we tried to record a video of our costumes in the parking lot, screaming twice when the motion sensor light went out. I feel like we've matured though, because the last time we went down to that basement, about last year, we were afraid to cross the threshold.

     I changed my mind about the time I was going home, but when I called my dad, it turned out he was already on his way. With a cold, bursting sinuses, probably a fever, and my period, I had to make it until 11 PM, when my mom finished work. One of my friends left because she was going to a night out in a neighboring town, and I stayed, once again. Living outside the city sucks; I have to rely on the hospitality of others, and I don't know how to repay her. I asked her a million times if it was okay with her to stay longer, and she always said yes. And truth be told, she didn't do anything to prove she was lying. She offered to take the makeup off my face, and in the bathroom, we washed our faces together, sprayed me with a mist that smelled of something distant, and gave me cream from the same cosmetics line, all the while laughing and talking. She made us each a cheese, tomato, and lettuce roll, and orange tea, for me in a large mug, which she'd promised me the morning after hearing about my cold. We talked nonstop. She told me, referring to previous conversations we'd had that day with another friend, that she wished she could talk to others the way she does with me, so freely. I felt the same way. I love her, I can feel at ease with her, I don't overthink everything I do or how I look. We moved on to the topic of friendship and relationships, and I wanted to bring up again a topic I'd wanted to bring up before my other friend left. I only nibbled on it because I was talking about something else and promised I'd come back to explain it to her, but then the conversation veered off, branching off, and had nothing to do with the previous topic anymore. I know she would understand. Besides, the dim light, the upturned legs on the high mattress, and the orange tea make your lips loosen.

     For me, the key to feeling comfortable with someone is how much they know about what's on my mind. I want to share this thing with them so they know and understand why I might do something. I want to be known. However, I don't take into account that they might not be on my side. And the more I think about it, I realize that I am probably a victim only from my perspective. Everything relies on communication, but it's difficult when the other person doesn't communicate their feelings about your relationship at all. I'm scared because everything is heading in the same direction as my previous friendship. It started the same way, it's continuing the same way, and I'm afraid it will end the same way. There's a tipping point, beyond which you can't look at someone with the understanding and sympathy you would have shown them before the bitterness piled up. My Roman Empire is all of my friendships that I thought were eternal but, in the end, got ruined. It would be the third time. And I'm certain all of them were my fault.

     A friend let me out of the house with pepper spray and a salt stone for protection. I despise this neighborhood; it's full of bushes and hedges whose shadows the streetlights don't reach. My only hope was that no one would try to kill me, because I didn't feel like running on the first day of my period with a cold and a migraine. I spent the last hour before the store closed helping my mom activate the SIM cards, and fifteen minutes waiting for a taxi in the cold, circling in a half-bend caused by post-hang out bellyache. I swear, I haven't felt this mortal in ages. I won't lie, I haven't retained a shred of dignity. The stomach ache and runny nose are stirring up my animal instincts. I longed to teleport to a warm bed with a hot water bottle like never before. At home I had some good ideas on the verge of falling asleep, but I only remember one: keys with a ring on the end instead of bit and a soap bubble membrane inside, used to seal secrets and vows.