YOU BASTARD!
life, i will write you from the beginning just to be persistent to my faith.
this will be english just for the sake of a special someone. so if you don’t understand it, go learn english for gods sake, which era are you living in!!!!?!!!!! christ is GONE, move on dammit.
i was walking on the railroad(1) tracks the other day with a butcher knife(2) in my hand when the thought of my former failed relationships hit me. i am just writing failed to make the sentence sound exotic and pretend that I have successful ones but the truth is that there is no other subcategoration for my past relationships, i dont keep a list divided into three saying ‘failed’, ‘not failed’ and ‘ongoing’, mainly because there is nothing to put under 2 out of 3 of the categories. there is just one. and it is the one which has all the failure in it. no offense, nothing positive.
anyway so i was going through them in my head and trying to remember the good memories just to keep myself away from attacking beautiful faced swedes with my butcher knife. it turns out i dont have good ones. BUMMER.
i got to think of my past achievements as a mistress(3) and i can tell you wholeheartedly that i felt like shit after a couple of seconds. i was with this manwhore(4) for a while this year and he was cute, kind of stupid and nice -everything that you want from a guy basically- which made me feel cuter, nicer, wittier, red hot and substantial. it went on pretty well for a month or so till i got to know that he actually had/had/been having/has a girlfriend which automatically made me second row and qualify me as a prostitute(5). great qualification i must say. allows you to do whatever the fuck that you want to do without feeling any pressure and social norm violation.
what the fuck is wrong with me, really? was the question passing my mind when i remembered of this memory lost in time and space. well you see, it is always like this. people like to fuck me short term but when it comes to long term cute girlfriendship, they get themselves an easy going girl who buys her ugly white trash jewelry from claire’s, who does not have any kind of an attitude towards life, not a particular taste or interest in anything. so maybe it is good aim that i set myself over here. most of my past relationships worked more or less the same way. those guys liked to betray their girlfriends with me, do nasty things to me and promised me that we would have a nice future together.
NICE FUTURE? fuck your mom you dipshit. i dont want a damn nice future with you at the first place. i want gold. i want cash. i want a helicopter. and you cant obviously give me none of those. why would i want a nice future with you? people are hallucinating hard time sometimes.
just to keep the blood away from my hands, this time i tried to focus on my future achievements with dicked humans, to be precise: men. but the voice over is saying ‘there will be none’ with nigger voices in canon. pure manipulation! trust me, up until then, nothing was that satisfactory. till i got to think of my future as a mistress.
first i thought about it and it seemed okay. i mean think about it. living with a guy who is rich and gets you everything you want in seconds, may it be a chanel bag or a couple of plastic surgeries. and this grandpa is with you just for the sake of women-does-everything-men-just-lies-there-and-enjoys kind of intercourse. and to be able to get it he has to overdue the viagra which will give him a heart attach and he will die. BOOM. then you get rich and buy yourself some pretty man meat with some of the cash. then some other ten plastic surgeries to get some more old men to get more money. i thought that this would be a great future and i will live happily ever after and make some writing workshop drop-out write my biography so that my memory lives happily ever after. it was so brilliant.
so i kept on walking on the good old railroad tracks, thinking about my new goal in life, picturing myself as a successful mistress. and it fitted perfectly. so perfectly that i threw my butcher knife in a nearby waste basket. and i kept on thinking. i always wanted hate mail. love mails are lame. i hope i get some of those in the future from future ex wifes and girlfriends.
you will break up soon anyway.
p.s. mox! <3
y.
Sen “Sekssiz aşk olmaz” diyorsun, ben “Aşksız seks olmaz!” diyorum.
sena isim yazmicaksin kizim you totally missed the point. gonul rahatligiyla bloglatmadin yaziklar olsun sana kalbimi kirdin bu yabrakli sonbahar baslangici gunde martilar ucusurken, gozyaslarim yanaklarimdan suzulurken, umutsuz kalp kirikligim asktan kaynaklanmisken, butun sevgililerim hayallerime darbe yapmisken………………. tas ol. zip. next: gunaydin canims. ilk cinsel deneyimini sipayla yasamaya ramak kalmis zor kurtarmis hincal kendini! turkiye’de boyle tabi. genc erkekler cinsel olarak sanssiz dogduklarindan sipa, at, essek, tavsan sikiyorlar. cok yasa hincal uluc. seks temali gorsel sanatiniz beni benden aldi. zevkten dort kose oldum bi sigara yakmak istedim. cakmak yok. elim ayagim titriyor cakmak yok. bak yazamiyorum gerizekali kadin ismimi oraya yazmicaktin lanet olsun. cakmak yok. bu pazar gunu beni rahatsiz eden cok sey var.
1. BU: http://www.hurriyet.com.tr/yazarlar/12375608.asp?yazarid=12&gid=61 (guzzel bir farkinda genc baslangici yaptim ayni cizgide devam etmem sart.)
2. etraftaki - en azindan benim etrafimdaki - dine inancini kaybeden insan tribi. ah ne hos sonunda farkettik evolution diye bir sey varmis din de zaten fauxmus. atheizm mukkemmel bir sey oruc daha guzel diyorum hepinize. amerikayi yeniden kesfetmis gibi din karsiti propagandayi kisa kesin, sikerim sizi sipa siker gibi. kendinize gelin lan ne bu rakili akp vs. chp muhabbeti gibi allah tartismak. obama da sozunu tutmadi zaten berbat bi lider. kuran guzel bir kitap, incilde oyle.
3. ayse ozyilmazel adli homo sapiensin twitter biosu: ‘29, scorpio, journalist, writer, musician, singer,Princess of Istanbul’ simdi bunu teker teker aciyoruz:
29: hayatinin sonuna kadar o 29 orda durucak gibi geliyor sahsen bana. 30 yas bunalimi diye bir sey, bunu yasayan 2947020 tane insan var. uzulme ayse, hayat her yasta guzel. 30 yasina bastigin gun yazina bu basligi at lutfen. hemseriyiz diye ustune gelmiyorum. sindire sindire.
scorpio: uzuluyorum ben gercekten. oraya yengec burcu oldugunu yazarak ne yaptigini bilmiyorsun aslinda. ‘yengec burcu olmak bir ayricaliktir’ ayricalik midir? bilmiyorum. yengec burcu insanlar hakkinda en ufak bi fikrim yok. aslinda bakilirsa terazi disinda hic bir burc hakkinda bir fikrim yok. ama inspirasyon verdi. kendimi baskalarina anlatmaya calisarak omrumu yedim ben. bilseydim yazardim bi libra olur biterdi. ama daha gencim ben, ergenim, cv yazmak cok kasici geliyor bana. yazdigimdan degil kisa surede yazmam gerekecek oldugundan ve yazicagim hicbir deneyimim, basarim, tecrubem olmadigindan. ama artik biliyorum. CV: LIBRA. nabeeer? bi akilli sen mi varsin sandin bebisim.
jounalist: tr. gazeteci, writer: tr. yazar, musician: tr. muzisyen, singer: tr. sarkici: ben bilmiyorum ne yazarligini ne muzisyenligini ne de sarkiciligini. aydinlaninca bu konuda hemmen update. (zaman boslugunda kaybolmus update)
en sevdigim kisiiiiiimmmm: arada virgul sonrasi bosluk unutmus yada sigmamis. o kadar cok sey yapiyorki SIGMIYOR. SIGAMIYOR.
princess of istanbul: prenses? istanbul? 2009? kuinelizabetin izinden git TUR-KI-YE SE-NIN-LE GURUR DU-YU-YOR! prensesiiigm <3 lisede bi sevgilim vardi, turkce dilini baya hos kullanirdik. butun cicili bicili kelimeleri birbirimize soyler, soylemedigimiz zaman da mesaj atardik. cok civiktik. daha ergendik. ama bu kadin hala ergen, allah sabir versin. it must be hard being you.
simdiiig bu hos bioyu kendime uyguluyorum ki kim oldugum hakkinda fikriniz olsun bebishler: (read between the lines: ahaha kiza bak komik olmaya calisiyor, PRICELESS)
bio: 19, libra, wannabe blogger, wall to wall writer, (insert art related occupation), (insert art related occupation),Princess of Malmo.
oku da gel bi street fighter atalim.
o degilde, bence ay gun yil saat belirleyip ayni anda bu blogun linkini facebook olsun, twitter olsun, ntvmsnbc okuyucu yorumu olsun, neresi varsa yapistiralim. ben de o gune kadar koda kasip commentleri aktive edeyim, sonra da tuna kiremitciyi alalim, bi guzel parcalayalim, sonra munevver gibi gitar kutusuna koyup aspavanin onune atalim.
aspava (ankara) = falafel (malmo)
dun aksam falafel yedim bugun kalibima sigmiyorum. cakmak haaaaala yok.
azcik ciddiyet,
y.
