About love and why it's better to be Johnny.

I end up devouring obscenely delicious gummies. And what? They are one of the most attractive products that can be found in a regular store – colorful and witty packaging, a wide range of flavors and shapes and everything else. Okay, I'll admit, I know nothing about gummies. I bought them completely by accident, or maybe very deliberately (I won't get into the human side of things now). cerebral) was left by a friend. Maybe this is a silent consolation for my failed success seminar business. Remember, last year I planned to share my wisdom with people. So, it didn't work out. I spent the last savings on advertising, and out of pity, only a couple of acquaintances came to the seminar, whose names I had forgotten. What kind of luck is this when, without the gift of telepathy, I can't guess those people's names and I have to blush every time I try to remember them... But what am I going to complain about here? I may not have been lucky, but you still have a chance. I'll tell you what to do. Change your last names or pseudonyms, I don't know, it depends on how you introduce yourself to people. But the most important thing is - don't hesitate and do it right away - on all social networks and official documents, don't let your friends call you by your old name. If you are now the Squawking Seagull, stubbornly ignore those who still dare to address you as the old John. You are no longer John.

Why do you have to do this and what is the secret of popularity? Oh, do you remember Mario Basanov? Yes, yes, yes, now he is gathering larger audiences than ever at Ten Walls, and the ticket prices have become so heavy and not affordable for everyone. The facts speak for themselves and there is nothing to explain here. If you need more arguments, I can give you another example. There is a taxi company that I love very much, because I imagine that it also loves its customers very much and is not stingy. So, there is such a driver in that company. Johnny Iron. I swear, if I were a man, I would call him that too. I don't know, maybe this is his real name, but my lack of education prevents me from taking it seriously, but in any case, I can bet that he has more clients than any other driver. Not only because of his pleasant behavior and beautiful, almost deep-seated appearance, but also because he is Johnny. Iron. So, you can stop reading, I have revealed the secret of popularity, now everything is in your hands.

Are you reading on? Well, great, I'll tell you some little things about love. I was forbidden to write about it in a banal way, so I'll write how it turns out. Last Valentine's Day, I celebrated on the floor because I couldn't fit into my friend's bed. I really didn't have the strength to get into it. In other words, during that period, I needed to celebrate less, and visit Alcoholics Anonymous more often. Anyway, I learned my lesson and this Valentine's Day I'll meet you in the forest... You see, I recently remembered a fortune-telling I read in my teens. The kind of bird you meet on this day determines the kind of man you'll have. I won't hide it, I'm terribly superstitious, and on top of all that, I'm also dutiful, so I'm definitely not going to sit on the balcony and watch the crows. Why do I need a crow for a husband? To drag all sorts of garbage? Of course, if you think about it, maybe that's not a bad option - if he took the garbage out of the house, it would be quite good, because I don't take it out. And if it were punk, we would go to boil and we would make a royal lunch out of the goodies found in the containers. But still, I don't want anyone to chirp in my ear. I'll go to the forest and wait for an eagle with whom I can fly on my knees, who will defend me from someone muzzle  will offer. Of course, I probably won't have to watch romantic movies with him, but I don't like them anyway, so in my free time I can go to street fights with my lover. I'll be a bad girl, that's how.

But until I find anything, my thoughts safely return to the memories of true and pure love. It was during kindergarten. I was six and looked quite good. It wasn't until I got to kindergarten that I fell in love with Tom – he was so innocent, with beautiful features, nicely dressed, washed, and moderately fed. The love was short and unrequited. In fact, he simply got annoying with his constant crying every morning when my mother left him and went to work. I decided that there was nothing for me to sigh about here and found a real, worthy man. He was a freckled boy with a wide smile and we were very serious friends. Once he came to visit me and my grandmother boiled eggs for us. Those eggs were hard-boiled, probably so that we wouldn't splash. After that, she took us to show her chickens. It was really fun, but when I think about it, it's disappointing - it seems to me that grandma wanted to "scare" me. Because why would you feed a stranger's child and show off your farm - you see, those chickens were like my dowry. Anyway, we were just kids and didn't suspect such a trick, so he later gave me a ride on his bike. In those days, being six and riding not some tricycle, but a real two-wheeled child's bike was hard. And to have the love of your life with your point was above everything. My childhood was so turbulent that I don't even remember how we parted. Probably someone had to leave kindergarten.

Well, and finally, I will reveal another secret related to love for people, homeland, music, my city, pencils, coffee cups and other strange things. When I was little, I didn't really like to work, but I was still assigned the duty of watering the flowers. Goes to himself,- I thought,- Keep me here, florist. Of course, I didn't water those flowers, and in the end, my dad didn't shower me with praise either. While pouring water on the dried-up plants, he told me that how we take care of our plants determines how people will take care of us. In other words, if we are able to show attention and warmth to someone, we will receive the same from others. After all, watered flowers really don't wither, but only spread their most beautiful flowers. So, let's go check out what's happening on your windowsill!

Author: Ernesta Dambrauskaitė