Written in 2002

I’m sitting in an Estonian class. I am here. In reality. I don’t want to be here. Usually I live in my pink bubble. My world is pink, naive and beautiful. I don’t know evil. My world used to be black. And now, all thereis, is reality. I want my black world back where I was a couple of years ago. Where everything seemed pointless.People, their values and their fake smiles hurt me. I was hurt. All the time. I wrote my best poems and my mostbeautiful songs and I could see through people. I was smart. I was weird. And people didn’t like me. I didn’tcare about it. I had my black world and only the dearest lived in it. My world was full of music, poetry andsleepless nights. That world was sad. Sad is beautiful. Your soul expands when you take in too much sadnessbecause it’s full of sorrow. And when the sadness goes more happiness can fit in it. My black and small worldwas beautiful. It was fantastic and I miss it. I want to go back there.
But for now Im in reality. Im sitting in an Estonian class and the teacher might ask me to read a poem by heart.How can I explain to her that I was escaping from reality all last night..
I want my black world back.