I'm not a robot

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I'm not a robot

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I will think about you... And if you forget me I will think about you Years will pass in me you will be I will think about you Let our destinies diverge May all your dreams come together May you not remember about me I will think about you With you only in a dream As you wanted, I will become happy I will not stop loving you You melted sweetly into my soul I will think about you... Living with hope in the world What is only on the deathbed When life turns the leaves You will definitely remember me... (network) Damn, damn, damn. Melted! Do you understand, melted away? “Soldered in”, “frozen”, “melted”, “stuck in my throat with a lump”, “I got used to it and liked it until I lost my mind”, “replaced my living part with a prosthesis, but was not able to reduce the pain.” This is about what’s inside you an undigested piece sticks out. Such a pseudo-cub that sucks you. It’s eating from the inside, it’s so empty under the shoulder blade and it’s pulling, right? Or a leaden throat: you can’t swallow, you can’t make a sound – it’s dull, it hurts. It is he who whispers in your voice at night “Mom, Mommy” and cries. So hungry and so painful. There’s no way to get enough to eat, there’s nothing to keep him quiet for a long time: neither clothes, nor vodka, nor endlessly wonderful sex. Well, at least keep quiet for six months, get a branded rag, let's take this guy as a daddy? What? Are you whining again? “Warmth,” he shouts, “I want sincerity.” Warm me, find me a mother who does not abandon me, who is eternal. Let this Petya-Kolya-Vasya fix everything. I want him to be my mother. Correct. Whaaaat, they quit again? “Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand you’re standing there so lost masha. It seems like she tried, she found the best, she was tender and affectionate, she clung and spread, and that’s what happened again. Just like in childhood, just like in childhood, right? He won’t hug you again, he won’t kiss you. But he will tell you that modesty adorns a girl. Did you take the smallest piece of chocolate? Did you leave the tastiest piece for mom and dad? Did you give beautiful, expensive toys to your brother? Oh, clever girl, mom’s sacrificial altar! Be comfortable, little girl, be quiet, try. This kind of life, you see, there is not enough warmth for everyone, a hard life, hectic: work, courtesy visits, responsibilities, there would be enough for my sister and brother, I would feed your dad properly, wait, be patient, move on. Or so: everything is enough: toys, walks, fruit. Only dad is not there, for example. Gone. On a binge, on a long flight, to another family, he completely died. How am I without him? I now have a breakdown in place of my father’s love. Gap. How should I caulk it, cement it? Damn, I’m crying right now. My father went fishing. With ends. Under the ice. I then searched him for strangers, looked into his eyes, grabbed him by the hands: “Will you be my dad? How about "no"? Well, then I’ll leave you myself, I’d like a dad.” Because I couldn’t cope. With feelings. They took away something important or didn’t give it enough, it doesn’t matter – there’s a shortage in the air, there’s not enough to live on. You will inhale, and from within, from childhood, “give, give, give more!” Insatiable grief, a hole. Into this hole, like into a bottomless well, addiction falls deeply and for a long time. Alcohol, drugs, emotional. I want to become small, curl up into a ball and fall asleep in a beautiful dream of any origin. Just don’t face the prickly cold reality, don’t sober up. In this hole, in the permafrost, your need for love, for warmth, for safety, for reliability is stuck. Many unsatisfied needs from childhood froze to death there, each one has different needs or all of them are listed. And then everything happens as written, from the unconscious in a black-magic, tragic way, people and circumstances are attracted to us that will repeat dissatisfaction. Similar to similar. Happiness to happiness, disappointment to disappointment are drawn as if magnetized. No, we are not stupid and we don’t want pain for ourselves. And we want, unconsciously, to relive the childhood horror. And melt the Snow Queen. We choose only people whom we love, like a mother, for us, a piece of ice instead of a heart. And we are again in search of warmth in longing. Hey, come on, defrost it! There’s nothing for it, there’s no such function. He, like our adults from childhood, responded to the call of pain from within, resonated either with the same hole or with the skill of making holes and freezing. And healthy 2020)

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