#marta kepite

[martakepite]

Here you can read a little crazy story I did for my Uni. It’s called “I Am The City” and there’s a lot of ABBA. Let me know what you think! 

[martakepite]

Tonight the sky is clearer Revealing a few stars here and there I can’t help but to look up, My mind wandering around,  Like a traveler, who’s lost Yet does not want to be found, Thinking, what if I was wrong?  What if I was never meant To be here in this city Around nine million others like me?  What if I am supposed to be Someone else someplace else?  What if I was never meant to See or hear you?  How very awful that would be!  because with you in my head I finally can breathe With you in my ears I can finally see clearly That the one I loved so dearly Never really cared for me. So, thank you for being my light, The one who pulled me from under the water!  Thank you for simply being you! 

[martakepite]

Sitting at the place Where i first saw you, Where I first heard your voice, Your silly laugh, And for the first and last time Felt your warm touch. Here I am -  Sitting, hoping, That I might see you once more, But instead my eye catches a sign Saying: "Not yet, Not yet, Not yet, Not yet, Not yet, Not yet..." (and the rest Is covered up by a plant), Looking right back at me. My mind rushes to ask: "Is this a sign?" But, quite literally, it is. You're not gonna come, Not for me at least. You don't care, Not for me at least. You are you, Happy and in love with someone else, And I am me, Reading signs That always say: "Not yet, Not yet, Not yet, Not yet, Not yet..." (and the rest Is covered up by a plant). M. Ķ. // 2018

[martakepite]

London scenes: Night

At nights London magically turns into a city that I could enjoy. Somewhat peaceful yet not at all easy, it’s like the city can finally breathe, released from all it’s tired and stress-driven people. Lights shine bright, cars still fill the streets, masses of people can’t seem to find peace at their homes, although their pace now is a lot more slower. Even I, as much as I am afraid of walking alone in London at nights, slow down and shorten my steps.

Tonight it’s warm. This type of weather seems like a rude gesture from London. I will give you the warm wind breeze, just give me a chance and fall in love with me, the city begs me. I open my jacket and let the warm wind tickle my belly - now it’s only one layer of clothing that keeps the London air and me apart. It’s more than enough, I’m not trying to rush anything.

I walk down the Regent Street on my way to the dorms. There’s music playing in my head, this time it’s “Quarter Past Midnight” by Bastille, and I remember how just not even a year ago I was sitting all alone in my rented apartment and dreaming about going to London, walking pass the BBC building and perhaps one day meeting Dan Smith and getting to talk to him about all the things that he has made me think of. I think and remember how not even one year ago I was so lonely… I think and realize that I still am. Only now I’m in London, my dream has come true, so far, but the feeling hasn’t changed, and I wonder will it ever?

Rightly, just as I am sinking in thoughts about loneliness, I spot a couple walking in front of me. They walk slow, as if they had all the time in the world, as if this night would never end. Hand in hand, they seem to be discussing something very passionately. Perhaps politics or music, or maybe a play that they went to see together, or maybe they are just talking about their day. I just wish I had someone to talk to about my day, a hand to hold at nightly walks like these. A second doesn’t pass by and my thoughts lead me to him.

All of a sudden I feel more warmth coming over me, it’s like he’s here with me. Only he isn’t, and I try my best not to linger on the thoughts about him or a version of him that might not exist. He’s there, you’re here, and he’s happy, that’s all that matters, I remind myself. But the thought doesn’t seem to be sticking in my head as there’s another couple lovingly strolling towards me. I sigh and let my eyes gaze at the pavement beneath my feet.

There are so many things I notice tonight on my way back to the dorms. For example, how music in my ears sounds different at nights. It’s as if it takes on a completely different meaning, a different tone even. Gary Lightbody from Snow Patrol coos in my ear, asking “What if this is all the love you will ever get?” I don’t know, Gary, what if it is? What if I haven’t really received a proper love yet? The type you talk about in novels and movies. What then, Gary, what then?

Me and Gary keep walking asking each other these tough questions on a night, when London sky has decided to bless us with exactly one bright star. In all honestly, I could describe it “bright” only by London sky standards. At first, I thought it might be a plane, but, to my luck, it wasn’t moving. A sudden delight took over me: Is it really? Am I finally seeing stars? It was only one, but it gave me a weird feeling that someone somewhere might be thinking of me. Thinking about how I might be looking up the sky tonight and gazing at the same star as they are. One is enough for me. I just need that one and only. It might not be the brightest of them all, but it’s all I can get, all I have, and for me that’s all I need. So, Gary, if it’s all I get, I will thank the Universe and live happily.

I close in on my destination thinking about how I should write down all the beautiful things that I hear in my mind. I consider pulling out my phone and recording a voice message, but I’m still afraid of London. I don’t want to let everyone know that I’m a foreigner, so I just try to memorize some keywords in my head and enjoy what’s left of my walk back to my four wall bedroom.

It’s weird, how my mind keeps coming up with these nicely put phrases and thoughts. It’s interesting how from gibberish they transform themselves into something that an actual writer could say. I notice that here, in London, I feel more like a writer, than back at home. However, here it feels more as an obligation - I have to be a writer, otherwise why else did I come here? Back at home I was writing, because I was feeling like writing, and writing so that whoever would read it, their hearts would burst into thousand butterflies that fly up and down their bodies tickling every inch of the cell on their way, before re-forming back into the shape of a heart, only with each time it would beat louder and love harder. If my words will ever manage to do that to a human being, I may just finally feel like I matter.

M.Ķ. // 02.10.2018.