Аротис

20140809_145305 (1)Я ученица десятого класса, Ситора Сапарбаева. Я родилась и живу в городе Алматы. Как у любого подростка в наше время у меня есть ряд увлечений, таких как вокал, игра на музыкальных инструментах, фигурное катание, шахматы и многие другие. Но больше всего я люблю проводить время за чтением книг и написанием собственных произведений. Для меня это возможность поделиться своими эмоциями, переживаниями, рассуждениями. Писать я начала с раннего детства, делясь так же впечатлениями, но в более простой манере. Мне еще далеко до идеалов, работами которых я восхищаюсь, но я замечаю, что мой стиль взрослеет вместе со мной.

My name is Sitora and I am 16. I go to school in my city Almaty and as an average teenager have different hobbies. I love music: singing, dancing, writing song (sometimes), playing piano; I study languages: English, German and Italian (have just started). I am an ordinary girl, a studious pupil; but writing stories and novels is my passion. I like to write about my feeling, dreams, to create a new life. Most of my works are on Russian, but I think that inspiration has no language… I can’t remember myself not sharing my thoughts with the paper. But after reading my old works I understand I mustn’t stop.

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Like a raindrop

My wings are wet,

Body is dead,

Soul left,

To stay in instead…

Everything’s changed, life eventless stopped, words lost the true meanings.

I can’t understand where I can find the truth and where it’s covered by lie. Where are you, where am I? This stormy quite evening… it’s really cold outside, but I think it’s much chillier in my heart…

It has just started raining. May be sky’s baseless weeping on my window or I am too silly to understand it wants to tell me something reasonable…

  I’m standing in the high neglected building, on the top floor, turned to the big window and indifferently staring at empty space before me through the dusty glass. I am watching the little drops like bullets from the angry sky streaming down to the earth. I’m like one of them, insignificant part of the rain, I’m streaming down too and nobody can stop me…

I don’t think the drops wait for the moment of dating the earth. More likely the earth needs them. Because there is no life on Earth without this meek grains of water, fearlessly falling from the unidentified space. May be it is the world’s unfair law… may be someone should give up something important to him in order to safe something important to another person. I don’t know and even don’t understand why someone must be the part of the rain to give someone else opportunity to be the earth. It’s like the theater where we get our characters for the show. The only difference between the show and the real life is the fact, that we don’t pick what we like or what suits us more, as in the fashion boutique, the part we will work on during our life is already chosen for us. And we must just go with this choice and play the role even if it is too unfair. I accept this fact and the role I present is the one of the crowd – one drop of the rain. I give or more true, the power from above – this life show’s director gives you the chance of being the main character – the earth. So your part will end with words “happily ever after” whereas mine will stop the existence to create your happy end.  But I agree with it and more importantly and queerly that I love this idea. I know I didn’t decide and had no choice but once I met you in this life and I wouldn’t if I had another role picked for me. Even if I suddenly had two ways before me – first with a chance of being whatever I want without you in my life, and second to perform my part and die for the moment knowing you – I would chose you. Now after thinking over I wittingly chose to continue playing the little mermaid. I understand I need to sacrifice myself for you, for the shortest blink of being with you, but if my fate prepared for me this way – love you and might be even feel your love, but then disappear in an abyss, it is not a huge pay. I am not a great actress, but I am living my role and don’t need the applause. I am getting what I deserve and giving what I must give away. My salary waits for me outside, somewhere not known, far away from the theater. I have to end the show, my character dies. I know I should make this step into an opaque space, give myself rest and sleep with the flow of infinity. Or even on the contrary exit of this dream and awake…

Sky is crying so is a soul, which no longer belongs to me. It is trying to fetch away, escape, be out of my weak control. We are going to be separate soon. I count the bright episodes in my memory like a scrooge counting his money, scared to let it all go. I notice the thick flake of dust on the window – it is a trail, left by the time, streaming as fast as the raindrops.  Could I leave the same trail in your heart? Will I leave something after me? These questions appear in front of my eyes, the questions I did never answer, never thought about…  Will my portrait live in your memory as yours lives in mine?  Will you want to return in the past we created together? How many moment of your life will be full by pain, caused by my death? Or you have just forgotten this game, this theater, this play… Do your eyes still see me? Because my eyes see only you, even if you are not hear… I am blind until I draw the silhouette of yours with my imagination… I hope I will be still living in the corner of your memory even if I don’t exist anymore. I hope you learned by heart my silly jokes, remember the songs I wrote for you… I want my voice to tune in your head with the melody of the songs I sang. All I have left inside of me is hope and this big dream, raised in crazy desires to be loved.

 My time is running through this window, I hear the music of the wall clock, may be it is saying goodbye by quiet measured knocking. I leave all: behind my back, beyond my feelings, out of my life.  I look into the void, so frightening, but also very alluring…  The dust is fixedly enshrouding the glass like the make-up on the actress’s face. I can’t see anything except for this powder, but I watch the fragments of the past… I can see us walking about the town, standing on a bridge. I remember I was cold and you gave me your jacket, ignoring the weather and your own feeling of cold… These tiny details gather into a long chain of reminiscence…

I open the window calmly and still. I have nowhere to hurry. The wind breathes easily; I feel the soft gentle air, blowing in my face. Everything seems so peaceful, I am not scary anymore. The emptiness pervades me; I am starting to lose emotions. I am getting free, slivering, dissolving in the half-light like the sugar in the hot tea…  I am not longer alive, but there is more to walk to be dead. I have seconds to think, but my breath is already taken. I am coming out to fly, to find my wings, to join the infinity…

My soul is streaming down to you, sacrificed everything for your future, the same obscure as the future of the raindrop after dating the earth. I am letting you go, like the rain lets go these lifeless drops…

Sitora Saparbayeva, 14.09.14

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