I'm still most afraid that people find out that I am crazy after a few meetings. I am afraid of the lack, the downfall, the disappointment because I let people down. On the Internet, that never happened. People forget that behind every account on the Internet is a real person, I forever are links, are electronic numbers. Even though it was straightforward from the first time we met, "You are crazy, you should not be crazy", people still slow to look. People looking at the signboard saying "Wet paint do not touch" then put their hands in it just to say "Oh that's really wet".
Every time I post a well-dressed fashion article, I will post another about how bored I am, and one plus one for an internet idol. I want to share the most truths, showing people that life is not like a dream, but I never expected it to become the driving force for me to move forward. Thousands of comments, letters, talk about how I make the readers feel that they are not alone, makes me feel more alone. Blogging up so fast, from real sharing, now makes me a celebrity. You think I'm another alien, you don't believe my story, you feel free to insult me on my personal page because I think I "must get used to it, want to be a superstar to accept. ". I have been indifferent from the past until now, not once properly, but now everything I do is counted how wrong it is, because now I suddenly have to live responsibly with young readers and copper. I don't know when I crossed the line from my personal page to the public property, it took me two years to panic, it's funny for example, but it feels like going out one night and finishing the day off becoming pregnant. Suddenly the girl has to turn to behave like a pregnant woman, gently loving and being touched with criticism everywhere, despite the fact that no one understands who you are and what is really happening in this bulky belly. I don't know when I crossed the line from my personal page to the public property, it took me two years to panic, it's funny for example, but it feels like going out one night and finishing pregnant. Suddenly the girl has to turn to behave like a pregnant woman, gently loving and being touched with criticism everywhere, despite the fact that no one understands who you are and what is really happening in This bulky belly.
Blogging has taught me one thing: If you accept your weaknesses, no one can use them against you anymore. You are ugly. OK I'm the worst on earth. You are a dog. OK damn it. Accomplished. The story ends there. I am a cunt, I am nonsense, I can be anything, get it all, right, because my gosh you never hate me as much as I can ever hate myself.
I really don't suit being a celebrity, I'm the least suited to be a celebrity I know. Rolling through the dirt, sweaty sweat, I went to sit first at fashion week. My brother once told me that I was a "writer but dirty as an artist", I was always dirty. Always being glared at by friends and colleagues. Finished vomiting and then going to see your partner. Applying lipstick on your face to cover your dark circles. When the party creates a relationship, then hide and hug the computer to watch cartoons. The fans called out their names and cringed because they really can't talk to strangers. AI also told me they wanted my advice, to overcome depression, to overcome an eating disorder, to overcome self-esteem, while I was trembling, on the verge of falling for the sake of the weight of my body.
Obviously, with all the horrible things that have happened to me, ever since, my Survival Rate is 100%. But the problem is that every time, I just barely get through it. I kept moving from day to day, living like today is my last day, but it is never the last day. I'm tired, I'm tired, and I'm tired of my own fatigue, but it's just so much, it's just getting tiring. I don't understand what people mean by an overflowing day, but I never have days to lose everything, I get worn out, and life keeps playing with me.
Life kept luring, luring, and I kept trying, trying, we chased each other from morning to night, and then morning again. I wish I had a reason to die, I wish I had a reason to live, I wanted to feel anything that was not what I am feeling now and forever. I dream of death, because I need something, one of the two ends of my life, any head is fine but the dead head is obviously closer, I need to cling to it, let me put my worn legs up and continue. It's never enough, I'm not enough, life isn't enough, and I just play along.
X times I took the train = [X times I calculated how weak I should be] + [how can I achieve such weakness so that it would be an accident for me to fall off the train tracks].
X times I fly = [X times I wish it had no guests but me] + [X times I wish I had the courage to run into the cockpit and push the lever to plunge myself into the nearest mountain] .
X times I ride the bus = X times I crave a horrible, worst, most painful traffic accident I deserve.
In 2014, I was invited to St. VK, a Russian version of Facebook, by VK. Peterburgs gave a speech on how to become a successful blogger at the famous social network's three-day Festival. In front of fans and audience, I talk about empty things, it's true, but it's not true. "You just have to try, you just need to know what you are doing and where you want to go ..." After the talk, the audience asked me questions in the Q&A section, and someone asked me that I did. In order to live so strongly, she couldn't imagine her doing the things that I was doing with what's happening to me. I told them that I kept crying until I got tired, my eyes were so swollen that I had to sleep. When I woke up, I would go to the street to find a reason to go home and cry at night.
You laugh. The whole hall laughed. I also laughed. I always tell the truth, but everyone thinks I'm funny.
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Lỗi - Error 404 English Translation
No Ficción"Finally, my autobiography book, Error 404 is out, after 2 years of work. It actually took me only 6 months to write 99% of the book, but couldn't write the ending for a long, long time. I wrote a book about a child who was sexually abused, unhappy...
