Keegi Krt Ei Jlgi Mind (peale Paari Tiesti Suvalise Inimese, Kellest Enamik Eesti Keelest Aru Ei Saa),

Keegi krt ei jälgi mind (peale paari täiesti suvalise inimese, kellest enamik eesti keelest aru ei saa), aga see on NII HEA lugu! Pole üldse tavaline, et troopidest midagi nii lahedat välja kistakse =) 

Narrative Town

Summary: You don’t ever want to be the main character. In your town, that’s deadly. Someone has to warn the new kid. 

——–.

Someone has got to tell the new kid in town the Rules.

“Hey,” you say.

The new kid looks up at you. He’s sitting at his desk in the back corner of the classroom, right next to the windows. It’s a chilly day, but he’s got the window open so that the breeze ruffles his curly, black hair. “What’s up? Fern, right?”

“Don’t call me by my name,” you snarl. Then, realizing what you’ve done, you look over your shoulder. The other teenagers are still looped around the teacher’s desk, trying to get Ms. Slauson to move the test date so they could organize a welcome part for the new kid. “I need to talk to you. Privately.”

The new kid leans back in his chair and studies you. You know what he sees – a completely average high school girl in jeans, a sweatshirt, and a ponytail. There’s nothing remarkable about you. He tilts his head. “You don’t look like a bully.”

You frown. “I’m not.”

“You’re being awfully threatening,” he says in a drawl.

The accent is going to be a problem. It’s southern and sounds really cool. Honestly, it might be too late for him already.

But you still have to try.

“Meet me on the rooftop—no!” You press the heel of one hand against your eye. Fight it, you tell yourself. Fight it! “Meet me at the supermarket on Western Street. The dairy aisle. After school.”

“Okay…?”

You spin on your heel, head throbbing. Meeting on the rooftop is against the rules. You glance up at the ceiling uneasily. You’re not usually affected by the compulsion so badly. Are you being targeted?

If you were smart, you wouldn’t show up to the meeting. You’d just let the guy get sucked into the madness on his own.

But you also really need to buy some milk.

Keep reading

I don’t care what the Founding Fathers would have wanted, I don’t care if Jesus was a hippie or not, I don’t care what Marx prescribed. I can’t take living in a world where we’re all servants of long-dead men. You know what happens if you make a law the Founding Fathers wouldn’t like? Nothing, they’re dead and they’re never coming back. I’m genuinely envious of countries that can just make whatever laws they want without worrying about how 18th century agrarian noblemen would have seen it. Stop arguing that Jesus loved the poor too, what he loved or didn’t love is irrelevant, he doesn’t get a say in any of this. We could have a country that isn’t shackled to these ghosts if we collectively wanted to.

Igav

Lehvivad juuksed ja valgub mäda, haavad ja uhkus ja pissihäda -  ses maailmas, kus kõik teed on valla,  suurim patt on igav olla.

Uus elu

Hästi palju on teistmoodi. Murrang tuli järsk ja muutused suured. Kas lõin enda uueks? Või uueks mind loodi?  Uued suutmised, uued raskused, uued tuuled.

Vana elu sai läbi. Läbi käidud, läbitud, otsas. Nüüd koristan, ei lähe tööle, ei pabista, armastan uuel moel, ja vaata, ema, ma oskan!

Uus elu on kestnud kaheksa aastat. Enam kui viiendik elueast. Magan nüüd lõunaund, treening on iga päev, ID-kaardi koode tean peast. Olen omaks võtnud, ja eelmist elu hakanud unustama. Harjusin ära, õpin jälle, sest uus elu on mulle juba vana.

Postkasti avamine

Mu postkast on kinni kinni kinni, kaotasin võtme pea aasta eest. Kõrgelt prao vahelt tirin reklaame. Otse prükki nad läevad postkasti seest. Aga postkasti põhjas, kuhu ei saa ootab tellitud kõrvarõngaste paar. Kui mul läheb neid kunagi tõeliselt vaja saab must postkastipurustaja. 

õde/vend

Saad aru, ma nii tahaks! Nii tahaks temaga lähemalt suhelda. Nii tahaks päriselt tunda ja teada, kes ta on. Mismoodi tunnetab.  Kas ja kuidas. Ma oli tema vastu nii kuri lapsena. Ja nii külm päris noorena.  Alles hiljem nooruses, nii 20+ midagi taipasin, et üle mõistuse kallis.

Aga ei julge. Suhelda, noh. Sest mis siis, kui tema on veel üks inimene, kes on tegelt mittearusaaja tüütute peavooluajakirjanduse-mõtetega elu ja inimeste osas? Olgu, mitte peavoolu,  nii nõme ei ole mu vend mitte. Aga no ... kasti pandavate  “punk on mõelda sedasi”-mõtetega. Mõtle, kui ta ei olegi mu salajane hingesõber kaugel eemal!

Ja siis ma parem ei.