Summer love (1)

"Fuck it, I'm going!!" I said. It was Woman's Day. All over the city, there were parties going on, and the colleagues from work chose one of the clubs I hate. "Fuck it, I'm going!!". My luck was that the club had a kinda retro theme combined with the occasion. I fancy retro music. It should've been a good night. And it was.

I got there in the middle of the party. The place was packed with people. You could smell the lust from outside. It was a cheap show. Cleavages as deep as the ocean. Cave men, horny men, lurked like puppies into fake attraction traps, at least there were good songs, but they couldn't compete with the people around. Most of them middle class people, having fun in their way. That kind of people like my colleagues, limited, who can drag you to obscure places.

No one was sitting down, talking, everyone was dancing. I liked that. Making connection with another by dancing. There was plenty of time for talking afterwards. I wanted a beer, I was thirsty but also to look integrated in there. Everyone had a drink in their hands. I don't know why I got more relaxed after a girl fake smiled me. I took another beer, and another. My integrating plan was working. I start dancing. I was in the middle of a circle formed by my colleagues. I didn't care anymore about those fuckers.  I was enjoying myself in a place that I hated before. I was having a good time. I got a little bit tired, and went to sit down to stretch  my legs. There were some sofas where people can rest and a table in front of the sofas to put your drinks. It was an "U" made of sofas. I noticed two girls on the other side of the table, looking and smiling at me. I smiled back, not creating the impression that I was a cold jerk. One of them was a blond and the other one had curly hair, but I couldn't see the colour because of the weak lights. The looking became more often, the smiles even nicer, and I could tell that they were talking about me, and giggling after. They weren't like the other girls in there. No shoving their cleavages in your face from across the room. They were simple. The second good thing since I got there. I went to get a beer, and when I came back, they were still there, following me with their looks. Something was going on. I got intrigued, but I was waiting for them to make a move. And it finally came. One of them stood, the blond one, while the other one tried to stop her. She came on my side of the table, sat next to me and said: "My friend says you're cute, but she's shy". Ok, so she was the wingman. "No threesome for me tonight!" I said to myself. "Ok, then, I'll come there to say hello" I told her with a big grin on my face. To be honest, the curly hair one, was cuter, so yeah, I was pretty excited. This was happening two weeks after I broke up with Miss Sensible. I was fucking pleased with myself. We stood up, and went back to their side. I couldn't see very well, but I think curly was blushing all over the face. She was even cuter than ten meters away. I sat next to her, smiling like a douchebag, trying to make a good impression. We started to talk, she had a nice voice as well. But I was amazed by her hair. Brown, so curly. She was smiling all the time. "My name is C." "Nice to meet you, C. My name is R." I asked her to give me her facebook name. We sat there, all three, laughed, bonding for quite some time. The dancefloor became emptier, so I asked her to dance. She already told me she loves to dance, so yeah, let's do this. I got the chance to see her ass, of course. Man, she was gifted!! "Could the night be more nicer than this?" We danced pretty much the rest of the night while I saw her blond friend so delighted being Cupidon. I had to admit, she did a good job.

Nothing happened that night. She didn't end up in my bed, or me in hers. It didn't feel right to do so. Not even a kiss. I was surprised, actually. We kissed on the cheeks though. She also smelled good, sweet. 

I got home that very early morning, and the first thing I did is to find her on facebook. Lucky me, it wasn't a fake name or account, she was there. Not a single sad picture, she was smiling in all of them. She had to be full of life. And, again, her ass was brilliant. "That ass will be mine someday!!!"

Love peak

Lasa-ma sa-ti spun si eu cum e cu dragostea. Stii idealul ala in care toata lumea are un suflet pereche? Toata lumea crede in acel ideal si totusi toata lumea e sceptica. Eu zic ca ala nu e un ideal, ci e un adevar cat se poate de simplu, dar stii ca intotdeauna lucrurile simple sunt complicate, nu-i asa? Da, un paradox frumos. E un adevar pentru ca absolut toata lumea a simtit acea dragoste, sau o simte. Aia care o simt sunt cei mai norocosi, noi restul doar am simtit-o si tanjim in continuare dupa ea. Poate ca ti se pare vag ceea ce spun, dar asa este, exista pentru fiecare. Nu-mi spune ca nu ma crezi, ca stiu ca ma minti, dar mai grav, te minti pe tine. Stiu, stii, stim cu totii ce simtim, dar intotdeauna reprimam. De ce? Nu stiu. Acel sentiment il ai o singura data in viata si stii exact cand se intampla, chiar daca e pentru un minut, o luna, sau ani, iar daca nu realizezi atunci, iti dai seama mai tarziu. Sa-ti dau exemplul meu. Am cunoscut o femeie acum cativa ani si de atunci n-a mai plecat din mintea mea nicio clipa, chiar daca n-am vorbit cu lunile. Am simtit ca ceva s-a intamplat cand am cunoscut-o, dar nu stiam ce. Aveam sa-mi dau seama ceva mai tarziu ca ea e sufletul meu pereche. Nu-ti trebuie nicio stiinta exacta sa-ti dai seama de asta. Simti. Si ceea ce simti nu e niciodata minciuna. Am iubit-o si o iubesc de ma cac pe mine. Ii iubesc fiecare centimetru de suflet, fiecare centimetru de trup, si crede-ma ca nimic in univers nu se compara cu sentimentul asta, de complet, nu de perfectiune, de complet. Te simti complet. Sunt unii care transforma asta in obsesie, dar se iarta, pentru ca in esenta e acelasi lucru. Dar se intampla ceva, ai zice ca asa e destinul, si scade in intensitate, din diferite motive, dar ramane, pentru ca ai simtit. Si cand te simti complet, ai atins varful, nu-i asa? Pentru mine unul stiu sigur ca mi s-a luat sansa sa fiu unul din norocosi, pentru am simtit cum puteam cuceri lumea impreuna. Pfaaaai si inca cum. Dar cum spuneam, nu toata lumea e norocoasa si ajungem sa tanjim si sa cautam acelasi lucru in altcineva, dar indiferent ce-ti va spune unul, altul, prin diferite metode, niciodata n-o sa te mai simti la fel de complet. Obiectivizand dragostea, aia sunt oamenii care n-au intalnit inca acest sentiment, actionand in necunostiinta de cauza. Dragostea nu e obiectiva, asta nu realizeaza ei. Vulnerabil fiind, vei accepta si te vei multumi cu mai putin, pentru ca asa ti-e destinat. Vei invata sa traiesti cu mai putin decat ai simtit in momentele alea de culme. Vei simti ca te-ai prabusit intr-un abis fara fund din care n-o sa mai iesi niciodata. Am trecut prin asta, dar tot aici sunt si-ti spun toate astea. Nimic din ceea ce ti-am spus n-a fost niciodata altcumva pentru nimeni, si nici n-o sa fie. Toata lumea are aceleasi secrete.

Lost in love

He enters in his shoebox. This is his world. One bed, one closet, one night stand, many books, and many maps stinged by tiny coloured pins in certain places. A little calendar with pretty pictures of different kinds of paradise, is hanging on the wall reminding him which date is every day with some marked events on every month. On the other wall is a wooden framed picture representing a little square surrounded by white houses with grey roofs. There is a pillar in the middle of the square which has nothing to do with the view. Such a ugly picture. Who paints a fucking pillar in the middle of the picture? It looks so stupid.

He crashes into the bed grabbing one of the books. Today is Poe. "This guy was so dark, like my fucking soul" he says to himself. "She says my soul is young, but a young cannot be so dark. Everything is dark in this room. Chaos!! It's a room where life doesn't reply. The Sun is for pussies. Check out the Moon. An inanimate cosmic object, but so full of mystery and thrill. Man I love Poe, he cracks me up. Oh, and Bukowski too. That fucking hippie. That miserable life of his, but so full of talent. I suppose I'm a hippie too, except the women, which makes me a modern hippie".

He deepens so much in those books. He likes it. He loves it. It's some kind of peace for him. He thinks it could count for something, somewhere, unlike his love. His love has to count for someone, but it didn't so far. It is his greatest quality, but nobody sees that, maybe because he doesn't know how to show it better. He often disappear in his thoughts, losing himself, feeling like shit, worthless. He doesn't want pity from no one. He wants to be loved. But when? When he will be exactly like an old hippie, full of memories, but full of shit? Love is not shitty, not for him. "Where's the meaningfulness of love? Where is the humanity in love? Are we humans when we love meaningless moments? We are the dumbest creatures, yet the wisest. Such a paradox. We are all fucking lost!! Lost in love!!"

Turn the page

I feel like I reached another end of the road. Another chapter is closing. I feel like I have to chose the people I want to come with me in this new thing rising up. It could be another turning point in my life, a place where I sit, thinking of what happened before, thinking of what I've done right or wrong, thinking why I've done those things, thinking I have to chose some people. Who stayed with me? Who's going to come with me? Who's going to be left behind? Who left me? Who's going to leave me?

I always believed in myself more others believed in me. I always believed in myself more than I believed in others. I was my first option. Maybe is time to be alone, maybe is time to run again, maybe is time to make new friends, maybe is time to find new places. I am my first option. It has been almost an year since I felt myself again. I fucking missed it. 
There are sleepless nights, like this one, when nothing seems right, and you feel trapped. No one likes you, or no one loves or cares or whatever, even your little sister, who supposed to be your little angel, the only one pure and innocent left in your miserable family but you realized this just now, too late, when she already knows things. You mistreat her, being selfish, not caring too much, and she flew away. You are afraid you're going to lose her if you go, because she doesn't care too much about your presence, but you feel you have to go. You never stay in one place, whether to escape from something left behind, or to try new, different things, new people and new memories. When you find yourself looking back at where you came from, you move further away from that point in your life. Some would say this is cold blood, heartless actions, but you don't care and go anyway. Now you're blaming yourself for letting her down, you wanted to be her saviour, her hero, but you failed. You fucking idiot!! You always do this, promising yourself you'll stay, but no, you're always running away. 
Love is the ultimate friendship. It always starts with some kind of magic, with physical or mental attraction, with rejection or even hatred. Eventually all this will fade away, and people tend to leave, but you'll end up with the one who stayed. That's how it works. That's why you're lonely, because you run. That's why no one will ever love you like you want. You know there is a hole in your soul that your parents never filled it up, and you're trying to fill it with other people's love, but it never works, it's never enough, because you're filling the wrong place. When you're going to learn this? Tomorrow? Next year? Never???

There are sleepless nights, like this one, in the place you're waiting to go, where you've lost your way. And then you feel her scent. You're losing yourself in shit, and you feel her scent, her apple scent!! You're breathing her name. You're having flashbacks from a period, the only period, you loved and cared for someone, other than yourself. You remember her spooning you, and felt the safest place in the universe, in her arms. There was nothing in the world that you ever wanted more than to never feel the falling apart. You've been told that time heals all wounds, but the scars that she gave you, you never want to lose.

But here you are, on the road again, here you are, ready to take off, and never look back. Fading into the fucking black, to the unknown. Will they going to follow you? Just go and see...

Pain

I'm just a man who has his wife by one hand, the world in the other hand. sitting with our feet in some pink sand. But no, I don't have a home, I'm forever roaming the world. It's the only part that I figured out. The rest is just fading away. I'm like a flame slowly consuming in the wind of love, flickering every time I fall for someone. I'm so full of love that I can barely stand. Terrible, overwhelming and consuming love. Who the fuck will accept this? Especially who the fuck needs this? Her? No way!! Another? Hard to believe!! The secret of true love is the balance between quality and quantity in both ways, receiving and giving. In my life I had received too much of nothing and I was giving too much of everything.

Usually I don't chase girls, they chase me. and that's because I don't know how to behave in that situation. Too needy, too friendly and too fucking stupid. That's me when I'm not me. The end is always the same. Why am I falling for someone every time I get the slightest attention? Because I'm too fucking stupid. Every fucking time!!!
That's when I want to disappear. Running away from all this shit and do the same thing all over again. Meeting good people, interesting people, making new friends, and disappointing them in the end. All the time I say I'm running towards my dream, but I don't know what dream I'm talking about. Still going ahead, to neverland, waiting for a miracle. They say that a miracle will come only once in a lifetime. I think I had mine, and I blew it. Four short fucking months. The best period of my life, my love peak, and I blew it. I know those moments won't come back. I know she's not coming back. I'm craving for another miracle like that, which came from nowhere. I want another hit like that, but who's crazy enough to do that? Who's going to risk that, these days? Yeah, I hope, but...
It's never enough, I'm dying every night, and when I wake up is worse. The memories of yesterday are haunting the shit out of me. When do I fucking learn? I go over those conversations, those messages, going into a hole with no end, wishing I wasn't me. The pain strikes me in the guts. No one can hear my screams, always filled with dreams that never come true...

Tears of solitude

"You're unhappy. You're isolated. You think you're the cause of this unhappiness and are unworthy of affection so you've few friends. You lost something you think very important. Your lover, your faith, your family, or all three. You blame yourself for this, so it makes you neurotic, and you don't sleep and don't eat anything healthy anyway. You used to take care of your appearance, but you've lost interest in that, so you avoid mirrors. Sunlight bothers you, so you avoid that too, about which you're guilty because you think it's unhealthy and even immoral not to like the sun. You're not a man of convention or you wouldn't be here, but you like to pretend you are so people don't notice you. But you sometimes like that as well, and can dress to draw the eye. But then you think the women who look at you are fools, or worse, to be taken in by such an obvious outward show. So, instead you're drawn to dark, complicated, impossible and innocent women, assuring your own unhappiness and isolation because, after all, you're happiest alone. But not even then because you can't stop thinking about what you've lost, again, for which you blame yourself. So the cycle goes on, the snake eating its own tail." 

Tocmai ce realizasem ca nu mai aveam niciun ban de taxi sa merg acasa. In mijlocul iernii, pe un frig napraznic, dupa vreo 5 beri, eu stateam ca stalpii in statia de taxi. Era trecut demult de ora la care a fost ultimul autobuz. Cu ceva alcool clocotindu-mi in vene, am decis sa merg pe jos acasa ca un zmeu ce sunt. Un drum de vreo doua ore. Fuck it, ce putea sa se intample? Mi-am pus castile in urechi si dus am fost.

Prima data cand am vazut-o, ceva m-a lovit: par auriu, niste ochi negri patrunzatori, buze carnoase, si un corp finut tras prin inel, ascuns sub o tinuta de vara tarzie. Miscarile fundului ei tineau vara pe loc. Radea cu pofta la glume, avea un zambet scurt si gingas care taia ca un ferastrau in scoarta sufletului meu. Avea un simt al umorului spectaculos, asemanator infatisarii ei. Seductia n-a dat roade, asa ca m-am axat pe tactici verbale. Am vorbit cu ea cateva luni. Simteam cum se stinge chestia ca o candela lasata in bataia vantului. Nu voiam sa se stinga, dar vorbeam din ce in ce mai rar. Ma intrebam daca nu cumva faceam ceva gresit, ma simteam inutil, respins, cu stima de sine scazuta. Unul din efectele alcoolului consta in a fi mult mai sensibil cand te simti la pamant, accentuand emotiile. Eram la jumatatea drumului, a trebuit sa ma opresc langa o cladire si sa izbucnesc in lacrimi. Era un plans tacut, lacrimile curgand siroaie pe obraji. Nu era vina ei pentru reactia asta, pur si simplu se umpluse paharul si acum dadea pe afara. Nu mai plansesem de mult timp, iar emotiile si starea erau prea puternice sa ma mai abtin. Nu era nimeni pe strada, nici macar o masina, toata planeta parca se prabusise intr-un abis in jurul meu. Cu greu m-am urnit din loc sa-mi continui drumul spre casa, Tocmai ce ma descarcasem intr-un mod atipic mie. Pana acasa am mai suspinat de cateva ori, Incepusem sa simt frustrare si nervozitate si imi puneam intrebari. De ce gandesc prea mult? De ce nu ma las purtat de val? De ce? De ce? De ce? 

Cand am ajuns la camin, am intrat tiptil in camera. Era goala, uitasem ca colegul de camera plecase. Era o caldura in camera ca-n desertul Atacama, a trebuit sa deschid fereastra sa pot respira ca lumea. M-am schimbat, am stins lumina si m-am trantit in pat. Nici vorba sa pot adormi. Ma uitam in jur si priveam tavanul. Liniste totala ca-n sufletul meu. Singur, Singuratic. Fara niciun dram de noroc, dar cu atat de multe de oferit. De ce eu? Toata viata mea a fost o lectie continua? Pentru ce lectie? Cu ce am gresit? Rasuna camera de la atatea intrebari silentioase.

"I've been low and sedentary, unwilling to go outside. Sunk into a kind of unhealthy lethargy, sunk into something like my own sadness. Thus, my prospects seemed only a long, dark corridor without an end. I have done things in my life for reasons that seemed right and even moral in their violent immorality."

Suicidal

Inca suspinam cand ne-am pus amandoi in pat. Am mai stat jumatate de ora nemiscat. Ea era cu spatele la mine si cu fata la perete. Habar nu am ce gandea in momentele alea. Oare statea cu ochii deschisi, uitandu-se in gol inspre perete? Oare voia sa se razgandeasca? Suspina incet si eu nu puteam sa fac nimic decat sa asist la o moarte sinistra, moartea iubirii noastre. De obicei ea adormea prima. Acum am stat si am asteptat pana a adormit. I-a luat ceva timp. Stiam ca o rodea si pe ea. Dupa ce a adormit, m-am ridicat si m-am pus in sezut, privind-o cum doarme, cum respira. Urmaream liniile parului ei valvoi care i se prelingea pe fata. Luna era la ultimul patrar, adica se vedea numai pe jumatate, parca era ca un facut ca in noaptea aia o jumatate dintr-un intreg sa se stinga. M-am dus pana la bucatarie sa beau un pahar cu apa. Cand am revenit, ea statea in aceeasi pozitie. M-am bagat sub patura, m-am apropiat de ea si am strans-o in brate cat sa nu se trezeasca. Nu-mi amintesc cat am tinut-o asa, dar stiu ca am inchis ochii. Simteam cum mi se goleste sufletul. I-am dat drumul intr-un final, am deschis ochii, si am sarutat-o pe obraz. M-am intors pe partea mea si cred ca am adormit.

A trebuit sa ne trezim devreme. Era bezna afara. Avea microbuz la 6 si jumatate. Am luat primul autobuz care ducea spre autogara. Nu cred ca am scos niciunul niciun cuvant aproape tot drumul, pur si simplu ne holbam unul la altul. imi amintesc ca am facut o gluma si a zambit. Nimic nu se compara in momentul ala cu ea zambindu-mi. Stiam ca avea sa fie ultima noapte si ultima zi in care o vad din ipostaza de iubiti. Cand am ajuns la autogara, microbuzul nu venise, asa ca am asteptat afara pe o banca. Era o zi de vineri, februarie, senin, frig. Nu mai retin ce am vorbit, dar ceea ce imi amintesc e ca am vrut s-o sarut exact in momentul cand microbuzul parca in autogara. N-am reusit. Asteptam sa-mi zica ca s-a razgandit, dar a fost in zadar. Tot ce imi ramasese era sa sper, dar nu s-a intamplat. Am ajutat-o sa-si puna valiza in portbagaj. A urcat in microbuz si mi-a spus ca revine sa mai stea cu mine pana inainte de plecare. Simteam cum genunchii imi cedeaza de emotii. Am ramas ferm pana a revenit. Nu am mai rezistat si am sarutat-o. Nu s-a opus. Probabil si ea stia ca ala va fi ultimul sarut al nostru. A fost un sarut al mortii, ucigator de viitor. Avea lacrimi in ochi; nu am putut sa ma abtin si i-am spus cele doua cuvinte. Cred ca mi-a raspuns cu glas incet, indreptandu-se spre microbuz. 

La 6:31 microbuzul pleca din autogara. O vedeam uitandu-se pe geam dupa mine. Mi-as fi dorit sa stiu ce simtea in momentele alea, voiam sa stiu ce e in sufletul ei bland, asta pentru ca eu nu mai simteam nimic, totul era un vid, nici lacrmi n-am putut sa vars. Afara inca era bezna, cer instelat si frig ca in sufletul meu. Nu stiu cum am ajuns acasa, pentru ca mergeam din inertie si datorita faptului ca stiam ca trebuia sa merg la munca peste cateva ore. Am deschis usa camerei mele, m-am uitat inspre pat, m-am uitat inspre geam, afara se crapa de ziua. Cred ca asa se simt sinucigasii cand isi pun capat zilelor. Un sentiment de nimicnicie. M-am trantit in pat pe locul unde ea dormise. Mirosul ei si al parului ei de la samponul de mar, se impregnasera in asternuturi si perna. Am adormit instant si m-am trezit chiar cat sa nu intarzii la munca.

Totul era in ceata cand m-am trezit, Nu-mi amintesc aproape deloc cum a fost ziua sau cum a fost la munca, Nici nu stiu cum am putut sa ma duc. Apucasem sa ne trimitem cateva mesaje s-o intreb daca a ajuns acasa. Mi-a raspuns sec ca da. A fost ultimul mesaj din ziua aia. Cea mai naspa zi din viata mea; a fost ziua in care mi-am pierdut o mare parte din suflet, dar am castigat un prieten. Aveam sa-mi dau seama de asta mult mai tarziu...

Just a note about faith...

She was fucking right when she told me to pay attention to the signs, to look after clues, or to believe in destiny. We all know that moment when we feel something is truly done, or gone for good. That's destiny, something is ending, and something else is starting. It happened to me recently. Until then I didn't believe in faith or destiny, or I didn't acknowledge it. Maybe I didn't want to. 

That day I found a clue, it was a different Sunday, a sunny one. I went to the "family" dinner, and came back home, Usually if she post something, it's first in my news feed. When I saw that picture, I knew exactly what hit me. I was standing there, staring at the picture, hoping to be a nightmare. I had to go to wash my face, because it was too fucking intense, all in silence. I ignored her for a few days after that. Faith has its irony and the next day I got my dream job. Like I said, something ends, something else is starting. Maybe I lost her for good, but I got what I wanted for years.

The next weeks were awful. Every lovely picture, every beautiful smile and every cute word were arrows pointed towards me, but she was happy. she was excited, and that was all that mattered to me. I enjoyed seeing her so joyful, making big plans in her mind, just being herself after a long long time.

Not only those weeks, but I think I'm always forgiving her for everything, even when she is taking me for granted. I just can't forget her, I don't know why. I never stopped thinking about her since I first spoke with her, Never. Maybe it counts for something, somewhere, somehow.

I just want her to know that if she ever changes her mind, she knows exactly where to find me... 

Deja-vu

"Stii ce sa zici, cand sa zici, cum sa zici. Si ai cate-o expresie faciala pentru fiecare chestie zisa. Imi place asta de innebunesc. Mi-ai intrat pe sub piele in prima saptamana in care am vorbit cum nu a mai facut-o nimeni...Dar ciudat este, dupa cum ti-am mai zis, ca din prima saptamana am zis da. Vreau omul asta. Am crezut ca nu am nicio sansa.  Dar am citit undeva ca si doar 1% daca stii ca e posibil sa poti avea o persoana, spera. Si asta am facut. Am sperat ca poate si tu ma vezi altfel. Poate si eu insemn ceva pentru tine;...si ai facut sprint spre inima mea. Cu fiecare secunda te-am placut mai mult si mai mult. Nu mi s-a intamplat fata de nimeni sa simt ceva atat de repede si atat de intens. Stiu ca esti in gandul meu de dimineata pana seara. Si mai stiu ca ma faci sa cred. Sa cred in mine. Sa cred in planurile si visurile pe care le am. Ma schimbi. Dar nu in rau. Ma faci sa cresc. Ma faci sa fiu multumita ca sunt asa. Ma faci sa ma simt frumoasa fara sa ma machiez si sa ma imbrac in nu stiu ce. Esti atat de special si important pentru mine cum inca nu cred ca ai idee. "

Paragraful pare desprins din antichitate, pare o picatura de iubire dintr-un ocean de razboaie sangeroase relatate in epopeile lui Homer. Par a fi cuvintele unei zeite care-si striga durerea in tacere, satula de atatea batalii duse cu ea insisi, in cautarea marii iubiri, zeita care in sfarsit si-a gasit fericirea, care s-a eliberat din ghearele nesigurantei. A fugit prea mult timp prin intuneric, plangand moartea inimii sale, dar care si-a gasit curajul sa lase totul in urma. 

Deja au trecut cativa ani buni pe care ti i-ai petrecut in perioada asta a vietii, perioada in care ai crezut dintotdeauna ca totul va fi roz si fermecator, plina de dragoste si fericire. Dar nimic nu e precum ti-ai imaginat. Ai din ce in ce mai multe responsabilitati si fara un lucru care sa te defineasca. Tu doar existi momentan, pentru tine o zi trece un pic mai bine decat precedenta, chiar si alea in care nici nu poti sa te trezesti din pat. In timp ce tu faci toate astea, cea mai buna prietena a ta se marita, iar prietenii tai apropiati au copii sau cariere de succes.

Sunt sigur ca ti-ai petrecut cateva seri de weekenduri prin baruri, cluburi,  cautand sa fii agatata sau sa agati, dar nici asta nu e de ajuns, nu-ti ajuta viata sa devina completa. Singuratatea e patura ta favorita, te tine de cald in spatiul tau confortabil. Dar chiar si asa te gandesti tot timpul ce e gresit cu tine, sau de ce nu poti iubi pe nimeni.

Si pui mana pe telefon sa dai sau sa astepti un mesaj sau apel din partea aluia care te face sa te simti draguta, care ar putea sa te faca sa te simti importanta. In felul asta te acapareaza nevoia, nevoia de a fi acceptata asa cum esti, nevoia de a fi apreciata la adevarata ta valoare si nevoia de a te simti iubita. Sunt asa de puternice nevoile astea incat te fac sa-ti pierzi luciditatea pentru doar cateva minute de flatare. Dar nici minutele astea nu-s destule, pentru ca vrei din ce in ce mai mult. Din nou crezi ca ai facut o greseala si din nou renunti la tot, retragandu-te in cochilia ta.

Cat timp esti acolo, nu te opri nicio clipa din a visa in continuare la ceea ce vrei. Nu intotdeauna vei ajunge sa faci tot ce visezi, dar nu te opri. Sunt atatea lucruri care au ramas sa le faci. Vor fi o gramada de oameni pe care o sa-i intalnesti, atatea locuri de vizitat. Nu te pierde in tine, nu-ti irosi gandurile pe idealuri. Trebuie sa faci lucrurile simple, sa-ti iei inima in dinti si sa te opresti din a le amana de pe o zi pe alta. Fa-le acum, asuma-ti riscuri pentru tine. Meriti sa te trezesti dimineata cu un zambet, sa-ti faci amintiti care mai de care, sa poti povesti si altora. Sa fii cea mai buna mama de pe planeta.

Hun, you'll be alright, just breath. 

Broken thoughts

It's that time again. Yeah, it's full moon. I'm watching it right now. It's so beautiful, so round, so bright, it's like magic. Surrounded by darkness, little flickering stars, trying to send me a cosmic message. I think they are trying to cheer me up, because I feel like shit, worthless. Like a fucking useless dog shit. A dog shit picked up and thrown into the trash can. I think everybody knows this feeling. I think everyone knows how is to love someone and not getting the same thing in return. When I met her I thought I had found the person I was going to spend the rest of my life with. I was done. All the girls, all the bars, pubs or clubs, all the family issues, were poof gone. Who the fuck knew or cared? I was done. But tonight I'm not gonna write about her. It's not her night. I'm gonna write about my thoughts and feelings, some fucking random soul fragments. So now you think I'm broken? Come and fix me then, I'm no quitter. 

Rejection feels different for everybody. There are a lot of emotions involved. Some say you have to use objective judgement. I don't think that even exists. It's bullshit. Judgement is subjective. Everyone is entitled to an opinion and a reaction. My reaction to rejection starts with denial."She can't reject me. I'm too good". Slightly arrogant, and that's because I have a kaleidoscopic mind. It never stops. When I realize what's happening, there is pain. This thing actually hurts. It fucking hurts. It feels like you lost the most precious thing. I didn't do anything, I just sat there in that misery. 

The next thing that comes is disappointment, losing the self esteem. That's the moment when I self sabotage myself. Feeling worthless, powerless, I didn't expect her to leave. Now the real shit starts. Anger is coming and it's a fucking mess. In my imagination I smash everything. Nothing gets away. If I have hope, that means I have expectations. Nothing makes it worse than the thought of how you imagined it supposed to be. There's denial again, because of the hope. I can't give up on her, I can't let her go. There's always this voice in the back my head saying maybe now it's the time, maybe now the stars will align for you two and there will be this magic moment where everything will be just fine again. I don't expect her to have some kind of a epiphany, and I don't care if she's fucking someone else, it's just, when I see her looking at someone like she used to look at me, I fucking hate that, and it hurts again like hell. 

I think that's jealousy. Maybe it's something wrong with me. The anger fades away, but the frustration stays. There's nothing I can do. Eventually I accept this, bud the sadness remains. It's like a huge balloon, where nothing can touch me. I'm locking myself in there, speaking to no one.

There's also distance, which allows me to do more, and allows us to be quiet, but that's even worse. Not speaking to her is worse than speaking to her about other guys. I don't know how the fuck that happens. I hate that I'm not there, near her, I believe that being there would change something in the right direction. Ah, the fucking hope again.

It all ends by thinking about the truth. When we were together, we were invincible or something. I know that I live by the moment, but when it comes to her, I want all the moments, I want a future. Above all, there is love. I love her, man, in the most truthful way. Love is or ain't. "I'm not interested in being original, I'm interested in being true." said someone, and that's how I am. I feel the love for her, I feel it in all my body, in every cell, otherwise I won't be writing this...