#citai

Ljubav

prava ljubav može da postoji

ako osjećaj ide uz korak s razumom

ostalo je iluzija rođena iz očaja

da budem voljena.

Pričala sam puno, provocirala, otvorila 101 prolaz

on je samo gledao.

Pripisivala sam to njegovom karakteru,

uvijek je bio hladan i uzdržan

bio je ravnodušan.

nisam mogla da vidim od zaslijepljenosti željom

da me želi onako kako ja želim njega

Ljubav ne možeš da ignorišeš, iskuliraš

bukti u tebi, želi van

da nađe onog za kog se rodila

ljubav je unaprijed izgubljena borba sa samim sobom.

We cordially invite you to “Comics & AI: Critical Prompts”, a one-day multidisciplinary conference on the future of comics, technology, and creativity. Proceedings on Thursday 4 September 2025, 10am-6pm at City St George’s, University of London, Northampton Square (Clerkenwell Campus), London, UK. We are calling scholars, technologists, artists, writers, designers, and practitioners to propose…

Mojoj depresiji:

oslobađam te se postepeno nemaš prevlast nad mnom kao ranije tvoj uticaj popusta nije velik a opet znaš da me srezeš kad ostanem sama kad su svi daleko

gledaš me iz ćoška mojih misli osuđivački srasla si sa mnom ne razumijes zasto zelim da ides oduvijek si bila dio mene

dala sam ti svoju glavu da sa mnom upravljas kako hoces volju da zivim

dovoljno sam ti dala da nikad vise sebicno ne polozis ruku na mene uvijek zelis jos nije ti dosta

Pesmica - Miloš Crnjanski

Reci, kad bi moj osmeh bled, rastopio se kao cvet pola san a pola led.

Kad bih još jednom mogao da volim...

Da li bi mi tad bilo dobro svud, i život bio manje lud?

Ili bih i tad kao sad morao da se smešim i razbolim, i da umrem?

She stared at him, at the way Mr. Moschutto nodded at her firmly. “Who else will, if you don’t?”

He was right.

She took a deep breath, staring at the picture. That woman.

She hated her.

Hated who she could have become because of her.

“Fuck you,” she spat, hands gripping the cold counter and nails sliding on the surface the tighter she held on. “You’re the reason I’ll never go to Wilmington.”

The longer she stared the more she remembered. The same things happening, over and over until she began to hate her family and her life because of it. “I hate you,” she said, voice rasping with tears on the way. “I hate you!”

It wasn’t enough. It would never be.

“You’re the reason I hated my life!”

The first began to spill down her cheeks, like birds taking off to fly for the first time. “You’re the reason I can’t stand any of them anymore!”

No, it wasn’t true. They all had their reasons. She shook her head, wiping at her tears before taking a deep breath.

“I hope I never see you again, and I hope you know I won’t! I wish you knew I was serious!”

She fell to the floor, sobbing as she covered her face with her hands. Mr. Moschutto and Citai sat with her, even as she cried and cried and cried.