It has been two years since I derailed. I say that subjectively. Self-willingly, I chose to close myself off and lock myself away from the rest of the world because the disappointment in people around me and the recurring dissatisfaction (caused by the social environment in which I am surviving) grow exponentially day by day. This path of endless self-criticism and hopeless darkness does not allow me to take a step further.

It sounds like a general story of a modern man that has recently stepped out of the machinery of the education system and is looking for ways to keep himself alive. Economic migrations have indeed been a ubiquitous social phenomenon since forever. However, where I am from, people are forced to create their lives elsewhere, not only for economic gain but also for all the things money cannot provide. All the persistence, stubbornness, solidity of personal beliefs, and strength one may carry do not mean much. Constant discouragement and indestructible obstacles make them grope in the dark as time goes on.

The relationship you can have with this place is poisonous, so every time you come back to it, it reminds you why you left the fi rst time. If you remain trapped, you must fool yourself because “everything is fi ne, they are not shooting”... The phrase “they are not shooting” is an integral part of the idea - the illusion of survival in which one tries to exercise their rights safely and normally. For someone who did not exist in the war period, the meaning and feeling evoked are real. I am a post-war child of Sarajevo, and I feel the weight of everything it continues to endure. Not only do I experience it, but all the war and post-war generations do as well. Clearly, the war never ended.

The 1990s decadence of Sarajevo did not end even a quarter of a century later. Over the years, this process has taken another form. Now it makes no noise and leaves no blood on the streets. The lifeless bodies are still there, though they walk and bleed on the inside. As Ozren Kebo says in his “Sarajevo for Beginners” chronicle, the most dreadful thing to see is someone dying. Not a dead person, but someone who is suffering and dying. Intelligent and capable minds are besieged and ruthlessly killed. The newspaper, television, radio station, and social network contents besiege every sincere desire for self- realisation. Libraries are not burning, yet they are being closed. Morality and language deteriorate, and when it comes to culture, only “cult” remains. It is a cult of personality, objects, and status symbols combined with fi xed obsessions and cheap excitements. Seemingly, we are moving on. The young, the old, the arriving generations, stay trapped in the past. It is a collective illusion. No word you say or voice you raise will change this state for the greater good of you and yours because even the like-minded are too lulled, lost, and occupied with this illusion to support you. The atmosphere that has been created and consciously maintained for decades favours the hidden goals of the shameless grandiose banknote and coin worshipers to whom our illusion serves for personal gains. For whom does one write books and conduct researches? For whom does one make exhibitions, play shows and hold concerts? Is it too much to search for yourself in an environment that does not limit you, that recognizes you as a valid individual? The grass is not greener elsewhere, but at least it can grow.

And those who wanted to change the world have already left Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina, the unbearably absurd Balkans, or are packing their bags right now. Starting position, ready, set, go. They leave so they can change the world. And at any cost, they abandon what they have here because all kinds of suffering acquired elsewhere will not come close to that given here. It is a big part of our identity.

So to my dear family, friends, and everyone else asking me what I want. I hope to answer your question, and I hope you will try to understand. I want to escape.