zoran

Is it just me, or do people rarely write in their journals? ONCE a WEEK!!! What the hell is that! The world can change in a day, and people are only documenting their lives once a week!!!!!

I promised etherland that I would have something creative to post here on my lonely, girlfriendless, sad sack 'o' shit journal but alas, I have had a change of heart. The new plan is to write when I can be fucked. Hell, if everyone else is doin it, why can't I?!?!!

Maybe, just maybe, I'll type out a . . . . wait a minute . . . . .

. . . . .as zoran looks through old writing files hidden deep within the confines of his ancient harddrive, the sounds eminating from the speakers startle him. He turns around to find nothing but an empty room. Deciding it was nothing, he contemplates his life and his future.
One thought leads to another and before long he starts to wonder about finding some sort of purpose, could it be found in the metaphor he now lives. A constant twisting between destinations, travelling far but not really getting anywhere in particular.
The loss of a loved one in recent times hit him hard but, like all of us he managed to pick himself up after a time to carry on with his life.
Now finding himself in a new light, starting from scratch, a realization hit him. He was now in a position to embark on new adventures, solve new mysteries, experience life as he had never before. The excitement was exhilarating and he continued on, forging a new path for himself, waiting to be hurt again, waiting for that special woman that made him think of no one else, waiting for the chance to hear laughter escape willingly from her soft breath. Forging. Waiting. Waiting. . . . . . . .


. . . . . .ah, here it is. This is a piece I wrote about ten years ago, enjoy it you will . . . hopefully:

Still Life

Except for the machines all I hear is silence. The machines digital displays are lit and visible through the darkness. The orange glow of the display reflects off her face as she lies there still. Not a twitch. I sit, my eyes wide open. The chair is big. I sit low, and with my arm extended, maintain physical contact with Marina. Im not religious, but I say a prayer in the hope that things will return to the way they were, living in an insane world, together.

I let go of her hand, and lean over, looking for something, yet seeing nothing. Her long, brown, curly hair lays with her on the pillow. A few locks have escaped to her face. I brush them away, and can see the freckles on her nose, I smile and kiss her on the cheek. A warm feeling rushes all over me as I go to sit. The big chair engulfs my body. I sit low, and with my arm extended, maintain physical contact with Marina.

I let go of her hand, and go out into the corridor. I lean against the door, and take a deep breath. I look down the corridor, only a few lights are on. Not a soul in sight. Nobody cares. The earth, a planet in a universe with billions of stars. The tears are getting hard to hold back, but I manage to make it to the coffee machine.

The coffee tastes bland, but I didnt expect much more. I go down to the waiting room to see whats on the television, but there isnt much on. So I sit. Elbows on knees, my head down, eyes staring at the cup of coffee. Some guy sits next to me. Want a cigarette?.
Yeah, why not. I dont smoke, but I feel like having one. I take it. You got a light?
Yeah sure, here, just make sure the nurses dont catch you. I dont care any more.

The cigarette doesnt do much. I throw it away. Time passes. An alarm bell sounds, startled I drop the cup. The coffee goes everywhere. Spilled coffee. Just like my life, dispersed over so many years, with nothing to show, but a mess. Im left waiting, in the waiting room. I kick the cup, then settle, and then withdraw. Time passes.

Their cold hearts. The conversation I had with Marinas father keeps entering my mind. Maybe she heard. Listen David, the familys had a talk. a pause Its been a week and she hasnt shown any improvements, weve - he took a deep breath - weve decided to let them turn the machines off.
They didnt talk to me. You cant! He stared at me. Shes your daughter, you cant let her die. No response.
I love her. This last, a whisper. A statement of fact more than an argument. We cant afford it, and the doctors have told us that there isnt much longer. Im sorry.
Yeah! We stared at each other for a moment, then he left. I heard him crying outside in the corridor. I looked at her and whispered How loud do I have to scream to wake you Marina ?

I open the door. Complete darkness. Nothings changed. I lean over and kiss her, this time on the lips. I smile and sit down. The big chair engulfs my body. My own little place on this planet of ours, a sanctuary. Im sitting low, and with my arm extended, maintain physical contact with Marina.

That's it from me for today, or is it night, ah . . . who gives a shit. Hey, i might post some pics. . . .yeah. . .

Zee