Pre-Fairy tells - Gulag Ep.8
October 24, 2007
Heaven or Hell?
I‘ve never believed in an almighty God and neither have I ever believed in Heaven or Hell. I’ve always considered that we make our own. Heaven as well as Hell can be found down here on our little planet. I’m not trying to get all philosophical on your arse, I swear (Pun intended). But how come every time you are truly happy, you don’t realise it, but as soon as you’re deep in shit, you’re perfectly aware of where you’re at? Maybe it’s the smell.
That’s where I’m at, right now, deep in it. Deep in filthy Russian shit and I feel like a fucking prisoner.
Last weekend, I went out with my mate Nikola. I had to! It was Disco night and I just couldn’t miss it, now could I? Long story short, I met a guy (Fina–fucking-lly). Well! As we were holding hands walking down the streets and kissing on escalators, I realised that even though it felt really good, it was also extremely dangerous. As you must have learned from reading the previous episodes of GULAg now, they are a bit socially retarded here and kissing another man in public means pretty much the death penalty. However, luck was on our side and we made it home safe and sound. I had just experienced Heaven and Hell all wrapped up with a pink ribbon. Will the guy call? You ask. Well, they are also a bit backward here when it comes to dating so even though he pretended I was the love of his life all through the night, I most probably will never hear from him again. But that’s not the point. I’m not quite sure what the point is actually! Am I ever?
I guess what I am trying to say is that I’m suffocating. I feel like someone is taking the air right out of my lungs and is stopping me from breathing. This place is driving me insane. I have been spending most of my time at home watching crap on my computer because every time I let my mind wander I go nuts. My brain here doesn’t seem to work as it did before. I suffocate (Funny how I’m not capable of describing it in any other way). Stuck in my tiny flat with my idiot of a flatmate and nowhere to really go, nowhere that feels remotely comfortable or even just nice; I feel trapped. When I’m outside, I want to go home and when I’m home I can’t stand it. I know I’m ranting and I’m going on and on about something that’s probably not making much sense but well, I guess it’s helping to know that maybe someone out there is reading me. What kind of makes me feel better too is that I’m not the only one feeling this way here. Apparently that’s what Moscow does to people. So I ain’t going mad. That’s always that!
Bridges and rail tracks seem to be calling out my name…
Six months to go…
