Awkward

"The first time always hurts," they say.

First breath you catch in this world, first little dot that cuts your teeth, first fall off the bike, first failing grade, first unhappy love, first intimate contact, first pot inhalation, first suicidal attempt. First story written in a foreign language.

Regarding these stories, I ensure you that the second, third and fourth bring as much pain as the initial one. In other words, hellcome to the gloomy world of Nathii the Creator.

"Heck, does she really need to blurb in English?"
"Yes, bringing pain to people has always stayed in the circle of her interests."

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Five hundred characters in bio block. I am more than five hundred characters. I am an unfinished number of characters, because I am a proud possessor of schizophrenia. I kid you not, or to be frank - the soul that lately caught the mic in my brain kids you not. "Some famous people have suffered of this disease," you would try to cheer me up, at the same time envying my ease of getting into any described hero's head. Okay, let's swap. I give you my sick thoughts, and you give me your thesaurus.

Having to meet the most interesting guy I've ever dated since the times of Beau, I called Beau to ask for an honest advice.

"What kind of Nathii should I take with me for a date?" I questioned.

"The real one, just be yourself," he replied.

The cheerful, comical one - this is what he meant. There is no such thing as a real Nathii. We are all the real ones, but as long as the guys can't puzzle it out, I guess it's not so wrong with us yet.

Baby Beau is the love of my life. First I fell in love with his green eyes, then with his Mediterranean face, then with his athletic body... No, haven't fallen for his laughter. It sounds just like my roomie's snoring (and yes, she is doing it right now). I fell in love with his diamond soul. However, there is a serious scar on this soul. He lost himself with a foreign nutcase while having commitments with another person in his own country - not necessarily something to be proud of.

Beau is the answer to many of my questions. For example, why I haven't shot down this pathetic waste of space called 'myself'. Oh, I don't have a gun, that's the alternative response.

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I registered on WDC last week. For him. I wanted to write him a novella in English, so he understands. Now when I am thinking, I could as well screw it all and hand him some maths scripts in Chinese, pretending I'm an author; I bet my boobs that he would be equally delighted.

Do you know what was the first word I learnt on WDC? Awkward. I'd heard this one before, but never really bothered to check up the meaning in the dictionary, until it started to be frequently used in relation to my syntax. This is what I googled:

4 a: lacking ease or grace (as of movement or expression) <awkward writing>

Maybe also this:

5 a: lacking social grace and assurance <an awkward newcomer>

Supposedly, it was the sugarcoated way of telling me I sucked. Okay, now I know. I suck.

But do I swallow?

That's the question to The Beau, I reckon.

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I kept being enlightened about the other things as well, such as I lived in Portland. Please admit, it wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed who told me this, regarding the fact I live in Poland. It's a country in Central Europe. Probably the Brits know what I am talking about and they are aware of the fact this whole country soon will move on the island named Britain. We're all up for renaming London to New Warsaw. And who thought, probably few years ago they were guessing it would switch into New Islamabad or Brand New Delhi.

I spent three days in UK myself. It was in Glasgow with an Italian guy. As usual in any kind of relationship, things were idyllic until we started discussing politics. And he, as a truly stereotypical Italian, started to diss the Albanians. Okay, there are more Albanians in Italy than Poles in UK, but there is one basic rule for me: nobody is allowed to insult them.

Beau's shortest description is "Albanian Beauty". And when his plane lands safely in his country, he texts me: "Sweet Home Alabania".


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The biggest shocker on WDC so far for me was that English punctuation can be different than ours and the dialogue shouldn't be written this way:

- Did you study today?
- Nope - Nathii answered with an ironic smile that one would think she is proud of her great achievement of procrastinating.
- Did you see Peter today? - Irma was browsing through a magazine for ladies with the right hand and trying to find that Chinese meal with the left one.
- Nope.
- This is no good, relationships need the contact, oh look what is written here, people in relationships are more immune, especially the married men, oh no no, you aren't a married man of course, anyway did you feed the cat today?
- Nope.
- Yesterday??? - shocked Irma accidentally pulled one of the bags on the floor, making the take-away meal hit the floor and dirt around.
- No mom, I didn't.
- Why??? - the mother asked painfully.
- Because we don't have any cat - the daughter was ready to collect rubbish from the floor, adding - though I have read people with pets lived longer. You should get yourself one to equalize your life length chances due to no relationship.
- No cat so far you say, oh gee, that's harsh, I could swear I wrote the necessity of getting one in my agenda somewhere around these days... - Irma turned back to observe a cleaning girl.
- Yeah mom, two months ago or so. We've been just too busy to get around it.
- WE have been busy? - the older of women froze for the second time today, after being stiff in reaction to an alarm clock.
- What do you think, mom? - Nathii stood up and looked up at the face belonging to a taller person. - Hanging around in the city for the whole day actually does take time. Which means yeah, I have been busy.

taken from my "Another sad comedy about weird families, damned lovers and dead bodies"

They should be written like this:

"I was at the laundry service today," she says.
"Not sure which disease is the best to kill my main character with," he responds.
"Mrs. Bloomfield came with her grandson and I swear the first thing the kiddo did was pack his strawberry ice cream into the washing machine," she continues.
"Diarrhea sounds like fun, but more sensitive readers may not share my sense of humour..." he sticks to the plot issues.
"I wouldn't have cared about this ice cream, if he hadn't had thrown it into MY machine with OUR clothes..." she narrates.
"Heart attack is natural and reliable but cliche, isn't it?" he asks.
"Actually, he did it when the washing was already finished. I had to pay for the second round," she finishes.
"Wait a minute, are you actually suggesting gagging my character with a strawberry ice cream till he drowns in a washing machine? Does it make sense???" he wonders.
"I am talking about Mrs. Bloomfield's grandson...! He stole one of your socks! The black one with pink polka dots!" she shouts with disgust.
"Not a bad idea overall, matches my imagination of grotesque, yet I'm not fully convinced..." he continues his own column.

taken from my "Story about Dolly the Pussycat"
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My review forum has the average rating of 5.0. It's more than any of my items alone and all combined.

I guess... it means... I found myself a niche where I am useful...

And who doesn't want to be useful and appreciated?