Character: Джасмин Бьюкенен (Jasmine Buchanan)

Fear is like a figure who practices domestic violence. She cannot do anything about her main problem and takes out her anger and powerlessness on someone who is much weaker.

Only now I have fully felt the abyss that separates each person: absolutely anyone can become a harbinger of a personal apocalypse. And although a person is not initially evil, nature takes over him when every day is a lottery. When the question of whether you will remain morally or physically whole rests only on the ability to survive in a wild, lawless world, the instinct of self-preservation turns on. When the whole environment is hostile and just waiting for a chance to rise above others at the expense of other people's victims, everyone should be wary. It is necessary to be afraid of provocations and juggling of facts. And involuntarily it becomes the norm to bury feelings in the far corner of the soul in an impenetrable black box, to control facial expressions, to correct expressions. Of course, the power of unification is bearing fruit. But that seems to be what crushes people's hopes.

If you choose, then the second option is preferable. "Why?" - you ask. The puppet is alive until its threads are cut, and the porcelain, broken into a million pieces, leaves of its own accord. He can hide somewhere deep, deep behind the sofa, and you will find him decades later, or he can leave your home forever in an urn. It seems that right now I am a porcelain doll, but on strings, because breaking is very painful.

Killing is the most humane thing that can be done. A person is resilient, especially when he is trained. He can endure a lot. Insect torture. Water. Shockers. However, this is a vulgar farce: people are broken only by people. Put pressure on the right person, cripple him, and kill the subject will not have to. Watch as the subject agonizes and rots, crumbles from within. How he destroys himself.

ᅠ - We only think that we have calculated the consequences, but the point is that life is like a Persian carpet with tangled knots, where every thread affects the final result. We smugly believe that only we control the ornament and, at our own whim, make changes, additions ... The greatest delusion of those who think they are God. Therefore, there is always some kind of spontaneous crack, an unplanned event and a seemingly insignificant slap in the face, and before you have time to look back, the whole composition is transformed, becomes alien, even aggressive. So, in fact, there are moments when we choose between the one and the other, relying on our preferences and ideas about morality and duty. And, of course, it is worth considering what mood you are in. In other words, people are discouraged only by their upbringing, by those teams to which fate itself has trained them.

You know, after the death of loved ones, you change, unfortunately, for the worse. You stop seeing the world as it really is. No, the world does not plunge into black and white, the world is still the same. You know, the colors are still the same. You still get up in the morning, check your Instagram feed, like something, then, as usual, crawl to the coffee machine in order to drink a hot latte and read your work letters at the same time. Everything seems to be the same as always: blue sky, green grass, the same job, you come to the office wearing the same things as always, you laugh at the same jokes as always. You return to an already empty house, but everything seems to be there as always, even dust in the same places. Nothing changes. The only thing that happens is that there is nothing you can do. This is the worst torture - waiting when nothing can be done. Awaiting the forensic medical examiner's report. Waiting for the last piece of earth to fall on the coffin. All life comes down to waiting: waiting for the murderer to be caught, waiting for the court verdict seems to be one more moment and life will become easier. Everything will return, there will not be this endless heaviness in the chest, there will be no desire to drown out thoughts with alcohol, there will be no desire to put a drill to the temple at one moment to drown out everything that is going on in the head ...

When I first arrived in London, there was something in me that I later lost. Hope. The desire to live. Rejoice. I became the type of woman I hated as a child. I didn't understand them. Angry. Selfish. Those who prefer sociopathy to society. I didn't understand until I became like that myself. Not a trace of that girl remained. She became a woman. A sorceress who turns her tears into diamonds

ᅠ People were exterminated for their nationality. Burned to the ground. However, has something changed in the twenty-first century? No. No one else drives Jews into gas chambers, but ethnic discrimination and religious intolerance have not been eradicated, and it will hardly ever be possible to do this - this is the very weed whose shoots, if not weeded, will certainly hatch. Moreover, children of celebrities also experience this pressure, for they are fortunate enough to belong to the dynasty of the "Chosen" - they are disliked for the fact of life. As, in principle, and the heirs of the heads of the special forces.

The worst thing in life is not death. The worst is surviving year after year, dreaming of death.

There are no strong and brave people. There are those who find the strength to speak the truth, and there is the same shit like me.

In the universe it is always so: everything that is dear will be destroyed, and everything that you prefer to forget will loom under the sun forever, like a shadow.

Salary is through the looking glass. If both light and dark are displayed in the mirror, then only one side is visible in the looking glass. There are no surcharges for extra hours. There is a deduction for insubordination. Injustice.

There is nothing wrong with men's tears. Every person, be it a man, a woman or a child, cried and this is not a bad thing. This shows that a person is not a stone heart, something can cause him unbearable pain. It happens to everyone.

Appreciate your parents, they are alone. They will leave, but there will be no replacement. Never. No matter how much time comes, maybe mentally our dead relatives are nearby, but they will disappear. You'll never get your wet nose to your father's shoulder. Never. You will not hug your mother or stepmother, she will not braid you when your curl breaks. That will never happen.