Kokoskas Space

Kokoskas Space to went about all the thoughts and things, she can't talk about in her daily life. I have no idea what this is going to be used for or if I'll post at all, but it's fun to have... I have a lot on my mind, that I can't always turn I to sentences. Sorry for my poor english, I'm from Europe.

[kocoska17]

The nightsky gets brighter.

Light pollution.

The orange clouds fight the starlight. There is no starry night in the countryside.

When will the fire entirely consume the darkness? I hope I don't get to see it.

I miss the stars.

[kocoska17]

Yesterday a memory from the past came back while I was watching a play. It just pawned in my head for no reason at all.

I was on the shore of the Danube in the village I live in. It's a "secret" place only a few fisherman and the people who work or live in the area know about. And it's my secret place, to go when I'm overwhelmed.

I was holding a stick. It was not a long one, or a pretty one. I was drained to it because the tiny insects already ate it from inside and it was strangely light. You could only feel it with your palm, but it didn't seem to pull your hand down at all. It was an obedient piece of wood. It didn't resist.

I was angry. I resented someone. Everyone. Mostly myself. For what, you ask? I don't know. It was stupid of me to do so. And I knew it. I wanted to calm down. To release all this and be normal again.

I tried to imagine all that frustration go into that light stick I was holding. I threw it. It was hard. I kind of liked it, I grew fond of it's strange carefreeness. I didn't feel better.

I only felt better after a day or so. The trowing was useless. Or at the moment I thought so. The emotion was still mine and the stick didn't get heavier.

[kocoska17]

I love literature.

Through stories and poems I feel. More than I usually do or something else entirely, than in reality. I love them because they make me feel the feelings I only a few times, or never felt ...

Love... What is love? I mean, romantically. How dose it feel to be loved like the one and only? How dose it feel to want someone so badly you cry and wimper over them in your room, and mind? I have never felt it. When I thought I have, I was in denial, fully knowing, that the object of my shallow wanting to fit in society, would never love me back, nor could I love them with all my heart. But romance novels, poems and theater gives me a fragment of hope, that feels warm in my chest. This must be that Love, they are talking about.

Through literature I get a peek, like a curious child looking into a livingroom from outside, except the courtains block most of their vision. They get a glimpse of what could happen if they step into the room, but will never see what the whole house looked like, nor where the entrance is.

Most people keep the livingroom tidy, though.

The second thing stories make me feel the most of is Loss and Sorrow... Everyone have or will lose something or someone... But why dose this madness feel beautiful? How can you describe something's so devastating and soul cracking thing: gorgeous? And why dose it feel right? I hate sorrow... But I love sorrow. It means I loved, whoever I lost, so deeply, that a part of me dies with them. There's no better word for this mixed feeling, than "delight".

Sorrow is the purest love a person can feel, may it be a family member, friend, animal or fictional character, which makes it one of the most beautiful concepts

Humans love each other, what means they feel sorrow. They feel sorrow what means, they love. They love and that makes them human.

Even if we are wrong, or right, in the end humanity will always be breathtaking and exceptional. And it's because of love, sorrow and literature.

[kocoska17]

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