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No one believes me, but I exactly remember my date of birth. It was looking a bit like awakening. And in life, the mornings happen to be the worst. Like today.
Outside is frosty. I’m standing on the balcony and from cold my hands are getting numb. It is windy. I’m smoking filthy cigarette, from which I’m feeling like to puke, but I’m smoking it till the end. Till filter. I will not torture myself with the watch. This all, what I have is enough, without any efforts. I never liked the New Year’s party. People are happy, and for me there is something depressing in this day. Older I’m getting, this depression is getting accrued more and more. It is not my fault that I was born on 1st of January.
Either way, this fact has determined a lot. Always and almost everywhere: in kindergarten, primary school, high school and later on at the university, I was always the oldest one. Or first on the list. And it’s known that the first one has got the worst. And during the New Year, I have usually hangover. Just like the others, only mine is doubled. Just like today.
From speakers, I can hear the music from “Psów”, and tears are shining in my eyes. Maybe because, I got drunk with clear vodka. One thing is for sure; there is no better musical note than Pasikowski’s, especially when there is nothing to sip after warm vodka. And love is not helping. At most, it may be one of the additives, like serious illness, bomb explosion or something else, but it doesn’t have an influence on any of us, for nothing. As straightjacket – it’s not curing, but creeping.
I have noticed it far time back, that there are some nights, when we are dying to emerge at a moment later, reborn again. They are like mystery. We are coming so close to other person, that we can’t drive ourselves further. We are discovering the softest parts of ourselves, blinded with love, chemistry, or with something else. It’s like brain copulation, exchanging experiences, thoughts, memories and data. And then arrives the morning. And everything goes to hell, in the haze of everyday dullness. In our language, there is word to describe this, which can’t be named. Shitty. And I’m feeling exactly like this right now.
