I just decided to have some diary here, while nobody's watching.

So, dear diary.

I had fun today several times: reading Dostoyevsky in the metro coach (yep, it was me who used to shout 'Down with escapism!'), having a shower, and then saying some clumsy new year wishes to a friend, who then told me she was going to have a baby (at last), and I felt joy hearing this.

I also tried some authentic movement (as I felt lost and eager to find a way), which brought some monsters, some heavy feelings forth, leaving me lost and helpless and falling apart.

And I kind of failed to hold me in all that with love.

Seems like battery is really low.

Sleeping, fucking and weeping is all I succeed in. And reading, sometimes.

I must start remembering dreams at last. And at least.