When it hurts,
It hurts really bad.
Like something is exploding inside of me.
I can’t breath.
Can’t talk. Can’t feel.
Because if i will,
I will just break into small little pieces,
And i’m not sure i could ever go back.
But you can do anything,
you’ll fix this.
Everything is going to be okay, right?
– shira
Need to get out,
Get out of this madness.
Get out of the darkness surrounding my life.
I will follow your light.
You are the light.
My light.
In this wilderness,
In the mist.
In the darkness inside.
-shira
Everywhere i go, he hunts me.
He always hunts me.
Like a beast waiting to catch her prey.
Her meal.
He hunts me in my dreams, in my nightmares.
He always there.
Waiting for my fall,
Waiting for my slip.
Sometimes, just for a second he is letting me go.
But then he misses me again and comes back to hold me with open arms.
Like he never left.
He is the monster,
he is my tears.
My depression.
– shira
We need to write for screen-writing class this week, what is our “hell”.
Last week i brought something about my fear of hights and mediocrity. And i know i could’ve done better. That was the easiest thing i could have write about.
well, i think i’ve got many hells. I believe it’s hard not to pick the easy one. But i guess, if i want to make a film from it, i should write about the hard one. My Grandmother.
My fear or my hell if you like, is to be like her at the end. Why? Because we’re very much alike i guess.
I just don’t want my life to end when my loved one will die. I want to live after that. I’m scared of getting crazy and to see things that are not there. I don’t want to end up like an old lady who can barrely walk, and doesn’t think clearly.
This is not my thing.
Yeah, this is my hell.
Just A few Words 