This is not a diary any more

Tag: question

My Least Favourite Life

The embrace of sleep becomes lukewarm. I twist and turn in my sheets, pushing the awakening further away. Anxiety burns in the┬ásolar plexus. Weren’t those pills supposed to help?

On Aggressive People

I have a serious question to myself: why do I run into aggressive and/or defensive people lately?


You couldn’t be my mistress, he said determined. Why? I asked, suddenly almost offended. Because I like your home with its artistic mess. Because I like the way you talk bilingually, mixing English words with Lithuanian phrases – which I’m sure many would find snobbish. Because I like your inner elegance and your wrists. Because […]