W breathing in Rome
fountain di trevi
help me get my feet back on the ground
me, G and P
view from our friends' balcony that we sat on and talked till midnight
J
a very spontanic 'party' at ours, K in the middle of the photograph
O
G
M and me chillin' in the Vatican 
a pretty girl I saw in Vatican, I hadn't the courage to ask her to take a picture of her"I'd die with pleasure. It's a shame I didn't do it when I had the chance at the seaside. I could have laid on the shallow and tried to drink all the water or dive as long and as deep as to loose consciousness completely. But even then I didn't have the courage. Just like at P and M's room. The only thing I wanted was to jump out of the window, I wanted them to admire my brain, thinking that it was actually a crashed watermelon.
All that caused by a terribly commonplace reason - enjoying life seems too hard for me. Even though I promised my mother that if I get into my dream school I will be happy, that when I'll loose wheight I'll be happy, that if I'll be able to go to a certain festival I'll be happy. All this crashed when I came to Italy. At first it was all kind of wonderful - breath-taking views and awfully nice people, K. Now I'm sitting in the bus, G's checking her reflection in her cell phone, W's eating Pringoooooooals , the rest is watching E=mc2 and I'm looking at photo's I've taken and when K appears on one I zoom onto his eyes. They are dark brown, almost black.
It all started when I told him I liked Pidżama Porno. Then we talked friendly(ly) for a while. After a certain amount of time I started to fancy him. This is what destroyed everything. Everytime I start to dream about a person, our further relationship becomes impossible. From this moment on in his voice I heard impatience, in his smile I saw mocking. Later on not only him, but literally everybody started getting on my nerves, everybody hated me because I hated them. Every compliment sounded sarcastic in my ears and every joke felt more like an insult. Everytime I felt like crying I just put my glasses on and my tears fell. Nobody saw nothing and I remaind the happy, funny, pushy, boring, not interesting, young, stupid me. Otherwise, they would have thought I'm an emotionally unstable freak, pouring tears over nothing. Because that's exactly what my life is - a big, fat NOTHING.
All I want now is to drink myself to unconsiousness and forget about everything, especially the unbeliveable deep brown of somebody's eyes.
The only thing I'm waiting for right now is for everyone to go back to sleep so I can have a big healthy cry. If I start crying while they're not asleep they might start to think it's because I'll miss them so much but that's simply not what it's about. This time, strangely enough, I haven't bonded with anyone. It's equally happying as it's saddening. Apart from that I feel great urge to shave my legs. Overall I feel foul, fat and ugly.
I've been thinking and on my heart there should be a sticker saying 'fragile' because some people just don't get it. Does the fact that I'm smiling on the outside has to mean that I'm not crying on the inside?
And I do not feel under any circumstances like in that book of Sylvia Plath "Bell Jar", not one bit, because not only the guys in my life have screwed up, girls as well. They are prettier, funnier, more interesting, more self-confident than me.
When I'll come back home I have no intention in doing anything but crying in my bed till midday, watching movies like "Public Enemies", "Moulin Rouge!" and "Donnie Darko", just so I could cry more easily. Lovestories, that's sure going to cure me!
I wouldn't mind making love to someone on a balcony, at night, when it's raining heavily and stars are forming the Ursa Minor (wouldn't mind one bit if it was K)."
To be honest, I'm being here a little over dramatic, though that's what it felt like at that time. I have to say, the people really were great and K is, well, for another time. I am nearly brown and happy now and I miss everyone terribly.
