Late obituary

How US-American parents complained about their children committing suicide because those had listened to Linkin Park. Like those dumbass people who did with Marilyn Manson because of the amok runners. Did you ever think then that your children themselves have felt kind of attracted to their songs for a more profound reason?

All this story about all of it happening must be the heavily ironic part of a sadly ignorant way of world-style in a system where people need to find scapegoats, not being able to see all the truth before the tragedy.

This is the funny thing about Chester Bennington: He just wrote about all of his suffering before and you could listen but you didn’t. And it can’t be any surprise what he did, actually, and what some of your deeply sad children.

I am no exact fan, any more, but when I was 13, LP was my favourite group of rock and it was the one teaching me to learn English language myself to understand all the contents of their songs.

long time, no see

winter coldness, summer fades
freezing moments, silver gates
lights of christmas, glowing strong
all my sadness, lasting long

sparkling windows, twinkling trees
winds are turning out to breeze
no more drinking, no more beers
real life’s taking me to tears

christmas, christmas, everywhere
is there something else to share?
that we don’t see, but we need
kill the coldness, fill with heat

warm up my heart and warm up my soul
sew up my wounds and sew up the hole
loosen my anger, loosen my hate
please turn the silver to gold of the gate


I dressed myself pretty today.. in a white dress with black stripes. And tight trousers for beautiful people, they have ethnic patterns. Yesterday I was sad and then I was angry and then I developed strength and powers I didn’t believe I had those. I climbed the ladder to feel like a monkey insane, I wore my self sewed punk dress. And it fell down over my body while I was hanging upside down. It revealed what’s underneath. I was lucky I had no alcohol. There was no guarantee at all. This is a hard life of struggles. Like a roller-coaster, this is much too much. I don’t believe in miracles.

I don’t want to be that honest but I wish you somehow to climb the tree in front the house and come inside of my rooms through open windows. I am missing you. Really. And you don’t know and I don’t know. All human beings are silly.




Today is 29th of July, which means four years ago, exactly that day I got to know my ex-boyfriend. I hope I will raise my glass tonight to the ceiling, to the sky actually, cause not dancing to Joy Division (Let’s dance to Joy Division – and celebrate the irony – everything is going wrong – but we’re so happy – Let’s dance to Joy Division – and raise your glass to the ceiling – cause this could all go so wrong – but we’re so happy) but to songs at the river.

He did shit to me. I will do shit to me. No, I won’t. Yes, I will. No, I won’t. No, I don’t want to, but I just want to.