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Finally awake.

Is this it?, I kept asking myself, burning my tongue with coffee.

Is this everything I believe in?

That was me, as I sat in my kitchen drinking coffee, listening to some Coner Oberst project while the washing machine kept the noise in the background constant. I had just jumped out of bed screaming the word "PANTS" - when you put the real desperation into every syllabe you get the feeling of a normal Monday in Moscow. At least my Mondays. Being a med student was never meant to be easy, but somedays I just wanted to quit. Like I couldn't take that one more. When it was summer I would bike to university, but now it's cold, I'm grumpy and bikes just seem out of place in horrible days in a horrible season. Anyways, I was sticking to that, or at least I kept repeating myself the reasons I had moved here.

So that was everything I believed in: coffee, Conor Oberst and Vanish (well, my white coat was getting somehow whiter and whiter). Everything in that one cenario. I didn't believe in us anymore, which kinda bothered me. We were like this one strong institution, like this world potency and now they're just words.

Then I gave that one crappy Monday a chance. I hadn't anything to give, anyway. I said I'm just gonna live this life here. It's nice. Nice is good. I'll take it. I'll clone you If I have to. Well, this doesn't mean you're replaceable, I'm just underlining that I definitely don't know how to live without you, so this is my sick way to show it.

It's halloween, it's full moon, whatever it is, I'm not looking for a new excuse to start it all over. I'll just take my turn.

I had had my morning rituals, so I was trying to empty my wallet before leaving the house from coins. I hate them. They're worth nothing and they're dirty and I just hate them. And I found this one coin from some bar I used to go to play pool. So I had the answer all along: someday I was just going to find that one coin anyway and would ask myself where did it come from, from which country, which occasion. And then I would remember everything, and laugh alone, like when you know that one street from that one travel or that one bar will never be the same when you come back there the next summer. Like it was all tourism and you can't repeat it all. Or can't even continue where you stopped from. And then I got gladly happy that trying to "unwrap"my earphones was the most complicated thing I had to deal with. And to hell with it, with that one coin was there to see me have the time of my life, I had just found this place in Moscow to play pool with some really nice new people. We reconstruct. We start over. We adapt. It's all too human, it's everything all over again.

And then the concept of love someday will be too strange and I'll be asking myself what was with that one bar I loved back home anyway... That it was just a bar. That was just some months. Like the streets would refuse to witness in our favor. Like there's nothing left to look for.

So this was it, as I left the house, listening to Radiohead, giving a chance to myself, to Mondays - even if both of us were hopeless.


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