I'm biting my nails again. Every time I do it, I don't think about anything, I just stare at one spot, I don't even seem to blink, and I bite my nails until it hurts. I don't even know when I stop or why I stop. If I tried to stop halfway through, I wouldn't be able to, and if I did, it would only be for a short time. I should start treating myself. I even started once. I bought some bitter-tasting nail polish. At first, it actually helped. I was happy like a child, but the damn thing was so bitter that the bitterness lingered long after I even tried to bite off a single nail. Later, I somehow got used to it, and it stopped bothering me.
The worst part of the day is this state of stupor, where I think of nothing, wandering around like some sick soul. I even catch myself going into the bathroom and looking at my reflection. I don't know how many people experience this, or if it's normal; I've only seen it in weird movies where the characters have some strange problems. Except I'm not in any movie, and my problems... What are my problems? I'm finishing school, I have a job, a family, a place to live, food to eat, money, a girlfriend, I have everything... so why am I rambling like this? Why aren't I laughing, making phone calls, or taking care of something? I'm 26 years old, am I old already? If so, when was I young? When did I have those carefree years? I think I missed it when I looked in the mirror.
I'm standing there looking at myself.
I have a child's face. Not long ago, when buying a beer, the bartender asked me for my ID. I blushed, as I usually do in such situations. Besides, I've never seen anyone my age blush so much. It's strange, because I think I'm ashamed of being ashamed, or maybe I'm only 17, someone got the age wrong by nine years, that would be correct... but to stare in the mirror for nine years? Maybe staring doesn't make people age, and that's why I look like this...
I always flush the toilet when I go out so my parents don't think who knows what.
Has anyone ever wondered where thoughts come from? Such thoughts, so strange. There's a lot of blood in your head, veins, nothing there, you can't hear anything... and yet something happens, we think, we understand, we get scared, we cry, we feel, we fall in love. Biologists all over the world are trying to figure out how it is that we think. I once read an article about how we fall in love. Someone even called it a chemical reaction in which a substance called phenylethylamine affects us – good, right? But how is it that we fall in love with beauty and not ugliness? Why with a woman and not with Fran's washing machine? Nobody told us it was good. Why do some people think differently from others? After all, we're all the same, we're built the same way.
I often examine my conscience. I sit down at the computer and write something. I used to have a notebook where I jotted down various things. Over time, the notebook turned into a diary with marked days and times. The first date written there is Saturday, August 10, 1996, at 12:20 PM. I remember returning from the city, from the market, and writing it immediately. I was still 17 years old at the time. These were entries, accounts of the day, and I always smile at them. The problems of a seventeen-year-old, still so pure, trusting, and believing in what he'd read in Polish class. I was serving at Mass then, an altar boy, and I was proud of it. Our parish church was old, larch, dating from 1772. It was situated in an amazing location, surrounded by trees, sculptures, a bell tower, a cemetery nearby, and a manor-style rectory. And everywhere, that scent of such noble old age. No one will know what I mean until they smell it themselves. Maybe that's where I got so carried away; it was always so gloomy, so nostalgic, so sad. I even went to Mass there recently, still sitting in the car because I still had time, and it was Holy Saturday, so according to our priest, the evening Mass was supposed to start "at sunset," so people were arriving at different times. So I sat and watched them. My attention was drawn to the old bell tower, black as larch after years, and on it a clock, carved from wood, still light, fresh, not yet blackened. Around the dial was a large gold inscription: "Maybe this is your last." And so it was everywhere, next to the monuments, inscriptions like "you know neither the day nor the hour," fragments of poetry. I stood and stared at the clock. Of course, I didn't go to church. I often do that. I don't know why. I plan something, and then cancel it for no reason. I saw people gathering around a tree that an altar boy was about to light. This used to be my favorite Mass.
I always felt respect for our priest. He was an old-fashioned man, with a sincere demeanor etched on his face. He smiled rarely, and only outside the church; in church, it was always an ironic, dismissive smile. It took me a long time to dare to climb the altar; all those people were staring at us as if we were possessed. But we had a better view than they did; we could examine everyone, especially the girls going to communion, and of course, there was always room for us; we didn't have to crowd together and stand far away.
I have a girlfriend.
I've had her for two years. She's young, 20. Blonde. Blue eyes. And she's with me. She's my first girlfriend for so long. My first one was when I was 19. I went to church then, I was well-behaved, I knew what I'd be doing the next day, and I remembered what I'd done the week before. I didn't have a phone. I fell in love. That's what my diary says, by the way. I met her at my sister's party. Then I didn't sleep for two days, until I finally asked her out and asked... (I stammered) if we could meet. That was probably some kind of turning point in my life. Our relationship lasted six months. I didn't even kiss her. But I remember her fondly. Then my big life change began. Leather, a car, and a cell phone. Some discos, fleeting acquaintances. Nothing lasted.
Today I'm with Justyna. She's 20.
*************
The phone rings.
It has this sound, seemingly quiet but persistent. It rings. For a moment, I still hope it's a dream. No, it's not a dream. Now I have to find it. It is. It's a private one. I'm answering.
- Good morning. Małgorzata Jagielska, Idea mobile network. May I speak with Mr. Marcin Chojnacki?
There was a rather long silence. I'm still asleep, and I thought I was dreaming this too. I always forget to turn off my phone's ringtones in the evening.
- Hello? - A woman's voice comes on the line again;
- Yes, it's me, I'm listening, what's going on; I'm examining my conscience. I canceled my contract phone some time ago, so there are no outstanding bills.
- I'm pleased to inform you that you're our best customer, and we have a proposition for you.
Best customer means that I've been overspending on my phone bills lately and spending too much on calls.
- What do you mean exactly?
I'm trying to be polite; I'd love to hang up and go back to sleep.
- We're offering you a program where you'll receive points for the number of minutes you call. However, you have to register.
"How can I register?" he continues, trying to be nice
. "You have to provide your address, and we'll send you a form to fill out with a return envelope, which you should return to us."
I provided the address and could finally go back to sleep. It's so easy to snatch someone's address; that girl could have been a fake.
It's spring.
I don't know if everyone feels the same way in spring. It's an amazing time; all decisions should probably be made in spring. I always see things differently."
It's so fresh, so pleasant. I get on my bike and ride into the forest, it's not far, about 500 meters, and I'm alone. There's no one there. It's a bit damp from the night's rain, and sometimes a wet branch hits me in the face. It's good to forget yourself and ride somewhere, not saying a word. It's also nice to have a radio on; then I feel like I'm dreaming it all...
************
I'm 24 years old and I haven't had sex with a girl yet. I don't know what it's like; maybe I'm abnormal. Maybe it's my upbringing. I'm definitely not gay. So what? All my friends and colleagues tell me about new girls, girls I've hit on, discos, and one-night stands. And me? I don't know if there's anyone else who's my age, isn't in a seminary, and is a virgin. As for that seminary... well, so many people have so many opinions on the subject. I'll be honest, I think I'm even ashamed of it. I can't say I'm not successful with women. But it gets to me when a woman tries harder than a man. I lose respect and end the relationship.
I remember once my sister's friend invited me to a wedding. I agreed, I liked her, and I like to have fun. I had a neutral attitude towards her. I drove her home, and as I was leaving, she asked me when I was coming over. I don't remember what I said, but to this day there's a certain numbness between us, and I think we avoid each other. I can't even imagine how a girl feels when a guy rejects her.
I remember my first kiss with a girl. She was a colleague from work. Also at a wedding. It was actually quite nice. And, as is typical at weddings, vodka, the atmosphere. We went outside. And she started kissing me. I don't remember how old I was at the time. 19 or maybe 20, something like that. I still remember the place, her, and the feeling. She was a year older than me. And definitely more experienced. I didn't know it could be so pleasant. But once we started, I think I kissed her half the night. The next day I had such a moral hangover that I was afraid to go to work, where, of course, my colleague and kissing teacher were – all in one. I remember finally going. I went in, and she said to me – "Hi, dragon..." I don't know what that meant...
I was so upset that I still feel sick to this day. She worked for about another month and then quit. I don't know if it was because of me or if it was a coincidence. In any case, I felt like I'd turned down some girl again. I don't know how they perceive me; I guess normally, no guy would waste such opportunities and take whatever comes his way. I guess I'm different after all. And I guess fate was after me too, because I'm single... my father, at my age, already had a wife, a house, children... and I...
After those first kisses, I think I started to like her, because it changed me a bit. I started to become more interested in girls. There was also Magda. 17 years old, blue eyes, red hair, tall... a teenager. I was with her for about six months. But she was the one who introduced me to all these secrets, I got a foretaste of sex. Maybe it's more accurate to say that we introduced each other to these secrets. I pretended to be an experienced guy in these matters, and she still got dizzy during longer kisses. Such a pure, innocent girl. Back then, all this purity didn't mean anything to me. It was the first time I touched a girl's bare breasts, I touched her all over. I slept with her. I remember it was an incredible feeling. I remember my first ejaculation and how ashamed I was at the time, not knowing what to do with it. But we didn't have sex. And why I broke up...? I don't quite remember. I think it was on vacation in Władysławowo. We slept in a tent, and from the start, it was strange. I don't think I have a good personality; I often don't know what I'm thinking; I just feel something and I don't know what's happening to me. I only know I did the right thing; she started dating my friend that same day. I don't think anyone here has hurt anyone. We met a few more times, once at her sister's wedding. I sensed a subtle sentiment in her voice during our conversation. I think I was her first serious boyfriend.
I think every guy has his own ideal woman; he imagines himself with her in various situations, how they meet, how they touch, how they kiss... that's how I do. I see my woman. She's blonde, tall, but a little shorter than me. She has long, slightly curly hair, long bangs swept behind her ear, and her hair gently falls over her shoulders. Her eyes are green, so gentle and polite, and most importantly – a smile. Red lips and a sincere, gentle smile. Her breasts are small. But she's dressed so well that you can see them. She's wearing a short, checkered skirt, just below the knee, pumps, and thin black stockings. A jacket, and under the jacket, a T-shirt with some lace. Long, delicate fingers... In terms of appearance, she reminds me most of the actress in the movie "Convict Flight" with Nicholas Cage. She appears briefly and at the very end of the film. She's the main character's wife. She has a daughter, about four years old. I'd like to have a daughter too... anyone who's seen that movie knows my taste.
I think I'm getting to the age where it's time to get married and start building my life. I can already feel the impatient breath of time on my back. I hate pressure, something that forces me to act quickly. Something that isn't entirely my decision. I often have to think about, analyze, and revise important matters. Often, after all this thought, I make a decision, and it's as if I'd made it before I even started thinking about it... I think I'm wasting my time, and that's probably why I'll actually be alone.
I have a girlfriend. Justyna. She's young. There's a five-year age difference between us. How are we doing? We're like most people, I guess. That is, okay, fine, fine, it's going well. That's how you answer questions when something's not right. We also ask such questions when we see or feel something's off. So when I ask myself how things are with Justyna, I answer, fine. What does "fine" mean? It means we meet, kiss, sleep, watch TV, learn English... Justyna is studying English; she studied in high school and has now started studying English. We see each other often. I like seeing her because I like the way she touches me, the way I kiss her, the way she sits on my lap and I smell her. She's blonde, has long, slightly curly hair, blue eyes, and thin fingers, but not too long. I like her most about five days after my period. I don't know how much it matters, but it does. She looks so feminine then. She's generally pretty. She's a bit shorter than me. I think that's why I became interested in her. It was New Year's Eve. My brother and I were at a party with his friends. I think I was the oldest there. I noticed her right away. I even remember what she was wearing. We didn't dance once. And our conversations were just brief quips. Anyway, I later learned from my brother's friends that she was genuinely interested in me. I texted her a few months later; I was working at the time and didn't have time. I wrote something like congratulations on passing my final exams. She replied with something I don't remember what... anyway, we're a couple. I remember our first kiss. It's funny how a girl acts. I drove her home once, sometime when we first started dating. I turned off the car. We talked. I remember it was so hard to talk to her, like she wasn't connecting. She looked at me like she was seeing something for the first time. She'd tilt her head, lean back against the headrest, and keep looking. A few days later, I learned from her best friend's boyfriend that all she was thinking about was me kissing her. I didn't know what to think. I think less than a week later, we were driving through the forest, probably late in the evening. It was dark anyway. I stopped the car. In a meadow. We talked for a while. I think she was a little afraid of what would happen. And I simply turned to her, wanted to say something, I think I did, but I guess I didn't understand myself. And I kissed her. We kissed until we got used to each other. I have very fond memories of that moment. I don't remember how long we sat there, but I remember how she was dressed, how she smelled, the place. We went back there a few more times after that. It was one of our favorite places. To get there, you had to drive through a dense, dark forest, usually at night, then you'd come out into an uncultivated meadow and drive down a dirt road that was hard to find.After a while, you were in the middle of nowhere. Far from the forest and far from everything. I don't remember anyone ever going that way.
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