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28 June 2020

LOOK: Pose no more

2 minute read | 5 hours work

thank you all


dress Asos, shoes Simmi London, ring Swarovski, handbag Coccinelle, collar I dont remember

foundation Sisley Paris, powder La Mer, bronzer Primark, lipstick Guerlain, eyeliner Kiko, mascara Maybelline, eyebrows Benefit
So often I walked around this place and for so long I had it in my head and waited for the time when I would be able and want to do something with my creativity again for example blogging and writing and I prayed every time I drove around, for the graffiti to still be there. Because it was perfect and it was pink and it challenged me to take pictures of a new outfit and yes, I was thinking about the perfect pose, which would take everyone's breath away, which someone could try to copy, with which I would brag on Facebook or on other apps about it and I would feel that I'm so awfully cool and super and amazing. And instead, I was able to take two hundred unsuccessful photos, one gif and about ten publishable pictures anyway. And you know what, I don't mind that at all and I'm happy with myself, because it's me. It's totally me. I don't feel beautiful and fabulous, but I feel sexy, maybe too sexy and maybe dangerously sexy for someone and you know what? I don't mind it at all. Because no one knows that

even sexy people pray. Yes, even sexy people pray. Quietly. And they don't need to shout about it. They do not go to church, do not contribute to the charity, do not speak after Mass, do not sland about others, do not wear ironed shirts fastened to their necks, their sins are not properly forgiven. But in the end, they fart just as loud. OK. Maybe they'll get to heaven before I do. I will wait for heartfelt greetings.

The last time I prayed, it was for - not another trouble again. Yesterday. I managed to drown the apartment. I really thought I was hallucinating when I saw that one centimeter high water on the ground. Who would have thought that it would rain, even they said it in the weather forecast. Who would believe that. While I was shopping groceries, something came, what could not be described in words. My windows wide open… There's no point in describing that capitol. A centimeter of plain water. On the wood floor. We will see how the landlord evaluates my performance and whether I have succeeded to perfection. Somehow I suspect it will be expensive.

A week ago, I cut myself on a can, my hand was for a good two or three stitches and two weeks ago I dislocated my knee, which is constantly jumping out. While I was dancing at home. Do not dance at home. Do not drink. Do not smoke. Do not do this and that. Pray. I pray I don't fall into another piece of shit. I will not go back in time, because you would not believe me anyway.

Yeah. Anyway. I was a poser and my ex supported me in that. You should not write this that way, you do not give the product enough superlatives, the make-up today, you look like a clown, the clothes are too glittery, etc. I didn't realize for a long time that it wasn't me. That I am something more and there is something more in me and it has no end… and that I am beautiful. Inside. And of course, a little too sexy.

Plus Instagram. I was totally degenerated from it. I used to buy likes and followers, just like you. I published photos just so I could really piss someone off. I'm not saying I was not successful. Fortunately, I grew out of it and I don't need a fake identity and pretense, to live a beautiful life, supported with beautifully styled photos exaggerated by an unrealistic filter. I have found myself and it is not necessary for anyone to approve the purchase of unbranded shoes and finish of my look. I do not care. Take pictures of your buttocks and necklines and handbags and cars and overtake who has more shit inside their head. I'm leaving you and I'm feeling good. You can't imagine the feeling  I had when I deleted my Instagram accounts. I had one for blogging and one for stalking. Disaster. No, I am not proud of myself, either not at you. I was hated and i hated. Thank you and I do not want to see you again.

Tak často som prechádzala okolo tohto miesta a tak dlho som ho mala v hlave a čakala na čas, kedy znovu budem môcť a chcieť znovu niečo so svojou kreatívnosťou robiť a blogovať a písať a modlila som sa vždy, keď som prechádzala okolo, aby tam to graffity ešte bolo. Pretože bolo dokonalé a bolo ružové a vyzývalo ma k foteniu nového outfiu a áno premýšľala som popritom nad perfektnou pózou, ktorou by som každému vyrazila dych, ktorú by sa pokúsil možno niekto okopírovať, ktorou by som sa chvastala na Facebooku alebo iných apkách a pripadala by som si tak strašne cool a super a perfektná. A namiesto toho som sa zmohla na dvesto nevydarených fotiek, jednu gifku a zhruba desať ako tak publikovateľných obrázkov. A viete čo, vôbec mi to nevadí a som so sebou spokojná, lebo som to ja. Som to totálne ja. Necítim sa krásna a dokonalá, ale cítim sa aspoň sexy, možno až too sexy a možno pre niekoho nebezpečne sexy a viete čo. Vôbec mi to nevadí. Lebo nikto nevie, že

aj sexy ľudia sa modlia. Áno, aj sexy ľudia sa modlia. Potichu. A nepotrebujú o tom kričať. Nechodia do kostola, neprispievajú na oferu, neohovárajú po omši, nekľačia, nenosia vyžehlené košele zapnuté ku krku, nie sú im patrične odpustené hriechy. Ale nakoniec aj tak prdia rovnako nahlas.

Naposledy som sa modlila, aby sa mi nestal zas ďalší prúser. Včera. Podarilo sa mi vytopiť byt. Naozaj som si myslela, že mám halucinácie, keď som videla ten centimeter vody na zemi. Koho by napadlo, že bude pršať, veď to hovorili len v predpovedi počasia. Kto by tomu veril. Zatiaľ čo som nakupovala v potravinách, prihnalo sa niečo, čo sa nedá opísať slovami. Moje okná dokorán… Tú spúšť nemá cenu opisovať. Centimeter vody proste. Uvidíme, ako zhodnotí môj výkon prenajímateľ a či sa mi to podarilo k dokonalosti. Akosi tuším, že to bude drahé.

Pred týždňom som si dorezela na konzerve ruku, ktorá bola na dobré dva-tri stehy a pred dvomi vykĺbila koleno, ktoré neustále vyskakuje. Počas tancovania doma. Netancujte doma. Nepite. Nejfajčite. Nerobte to a to. Modlite sa. Ja sa modlím, aby som zas nespadla do ďalšej sračky. Ďalej do minulosti sa vracať nebudem, lebo by ste mi aj tak neverili.

Hej. Bola som pozérka a môj ex ma v tom podporoval. Nemáš písať tak a tak, dávaš danému produktu málo superlatív, ten make-up dnes, vyzeráš ako klaun, to oblečenie je príliš trblietavé atď. Dlho som si neuvedomovala, že to nie som ja. Že som niečo viac a je vo mne niečo viac a iné a nemá to konca kraja… a že som krásna. Vo vnútri. A jasne, trochu too sexy.

Plus Instagram. Totálne som z neho bola zdegenerovaná. Kupovala som lajky a followers tak ako ty. Publikovala som fotky, len aby som mohla niekoho poriadne nasrať. Nevravím, že sa mi to nepodarilo. Našťastie som z toho vyrástla a nepotrebujem k životu falošnú identitu a pretvárku a gýčovo nastajlované fotky prehnané filtrom. Bola som jeden veľký fejk. No našla som sama seba a nie je nutné, aby mi niekto schválil kúpu neznačkových topánok a zhejtoval môj vzhľad. Mám vás v riti. Foťte si svoje zadky a výstrihy a kabelky a autá a predbiehajte sa v svojej povrchnosti a v tom, kto má viac nasraté v hlave. Ja vás opúšťam a je mi fajn. A je mi jedno, že nebudem mať spolupráce len preto, že nemám Insta a nemám určitý počet fellas. Neviete si predstaviť ten pocit, ktorý som zažila, to uvoľnenie, tú bezpríťaž, ten pocit šťastia, keď som vymazala svoje Instagramové účty. Jeden som mala kvôli blogovaniu a jeden na stalkovanie. Des. Nie som na seba pyšná a nie som ani na vás. Bola som nenávidená a nenávidela som. Ďakujem a donevidenia.

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