(essay)

Reality is gradually disappearing from my life. The days become somewhat drawn out and surreal, like music without a clear rhythm, but I still don’t manage to do anything.

The earlier location change was setting the rhythm of life. It is still there, but these days also feel a bit surrealistic, but that surrealism makes me happy.

The feeling of unreality visited me for the second time. The first time it came a few years ago, but then everything was much worse. I still didn’t have that sweet surrealism, which now helps me not to go crazy.

Then I read “Notes of the Ukrainian Samashedshi” − now “White Guard.” It’s strange… When I am frightened by modernity, for some reason I pick up works whose authors were also frightened by it. And most importantly, I know that the terrible reds will still come, that people will not plant enough nuts and the nation will not become wiser, that the generation of Teenagers will be deceived again… But I still read.

It was more difficult then. I was just laying the foundation of that sweet surrealism and reading about what I saw outside the window. It’s better now. I read about the past, and the gray turns into very bright colors and I try to believe in their reality, I try to believe that it’s all about me and that I can be so happy… And most importantly, that I’m all for it deserve.

Of course, now, as then, I peer into other realities between the unreal phantoms. They show that the world has gone mad, but not now. It happened a long-long time ago. Or maybe it was always like that… Then it scared me, but now it calms me down.

In general, the first unreality can be tolerated for the sake of moments of the second, but I really want a little reality in this crazy cocktail…

But did reality exist at all? Maybe it’s just a figment of my sick imagination that needed a break? Soon I will find evidence that reality does exist, but for now I am constantly jumping from gray mundane life to happy mood and, I am very afraid that the gray unreality will become the new reality.