I started writing my drama, but I have to reform it. I can’t write thirteen syllable, I’ll write eleven syllable as before. It will be neo-romantic drama (Romanticism is my favourite epoch; Modernism is my favourite style of art). Everybody will be surprise!

But I can’t see any revelations in my live… Maybe I’m not Creator, as I wish? Maybe I’m only craftsman… ? I don’t really know. History will judge it.

I won’t rebuild any relationships in my life. Poetry is my life for now, and I wouldn’t have any problems. People make problems – it always happened, always! No people means no problems. Everybody know it! Am I misanthrope again? Maybe.

My muse is abstract, but I’ll have new one before I’ll finish my drama. How do I know it? I was waiting too much time for her. Now, when I’m really free (I haven’t any friends who could attack me with not mine problems!) I can. I know – I CAN!

I’m the future.