On cheating.

I thought it was fine when I did it. And now it makes me feel guilty. Is it because I know that I only kissed another man, while he slept with one of the most disgusting women around? Do I feel like curling up in my bed and never seeing the sunlight again because I was falling in love with him or because it disgusts me that he brought her between the same sheets? What if he told her to keep her eyes open because he wants to sink into them? What if he promised her the same three months of happiness? What if he told her everything he ever told me? Why did she have to be in the same bed I was in? What if he did it because he knew of my affair?  But I only kissed the other because I was afraid I would irremediably fall in love with him, the other one was a distraction, he was my salvation, he brought me back to life. Why am I so afraid that I will never fall in love? Never again.

Does it hurt because I was secretly hoping that he would prove to be real and an honorable man? Because I thought I could make him love.  He should know what love is, but he rejects it. He is my not-a-happy-ending Big. I was hoping for my Big to come. But he runs away after getting my hopes up, just like Big would do, but he is no Big, he is incapable of real feelings.

I half-despise him, half want him. Just that now, his lips have touched hers. She has been in his bed. She has spent a morning in his arms. She felt his warm body curled up around her. And maybe if it was not her, maybe I wouldn’t feel so sick. But it is her. And knowing her and seeing her smile while pointing him out to her friends just repulses me.

It hurts mostly because I wanted to fall for him. I was far too reasonable to do it. My intuition was screaming at me daily” Don’t do this to yourself!” and I never let go of myself. But the US with its stupid Valentine’s Day happy shows made me think maybe I should fall for him, just because there was no one else like him in here. But that is not a good reason for falling in love. It saddens me and yet it makes me smile. I will fall in love again, though I will always love T. But he, he will never love. He will sleep with so many girls, he will forget their names and lose himself and bring a new smell in his bed at least twice a week, lie to them, lie to himself and pretend he is a good man. But he will never fall in love.

No, I am not trying to seem magnanimous here. But yes, I thought I could change him. Make people see the man I saw behind the lies. Make him stop lying. Make him give himself to someone like he has never done before. And give myself to him like I have never done it with another one. Body and soul, completely his. Will he ever know how much he lost? How ready I was to make the next step before he broke his promises and cheated? Maybe, maybe not.

I will be fine. I have survived 19 years without being tied down to a single soul, I will survive this too.

And if you want to blame me for being the first one to kiss another, do it. I will not regret it. I refuse to blame it on me.  I am alive and I will live the life I have always dreamed about. I have accomplished everything I have planned for until now, I am strong and independent, why did I let him bring me down this much? Did I bring this upon myself? Yes,probably so.

I believe in myself.

I shouldn’t ever again give up my independence.

With love,

For the worst days when you will need to re-read yourself and know you’re gonna be fine,

J.

 

Love

I haven’t written in a such a long time and I think it was because I had nothing to write about. It is only when I feel crushed by the power of my own feelings that I feel the need to write and let my heart use my hands to type the sounds of my soul. I feel small, powerless and part of a bigger something that keeps taking me from one place to another without asking for permission.

I love losing myself. I love being in love and feeling like the whole world gets better because spending a second with that special someone is so amazing you feel like you don’t need anything else. The smile when you see them, the shining beam of light in their eyes, their hands and random touches. I am overwhelmed with the feelings I have. Sunsets and warm hands, guitars and beautiful voices, new people and new lovers, happiness all around me and you. Your name is like a prayer on my lips. Your name is saint and only I can whisper it so that the divine spirits can hear it.

But that is not the only love you can feel. I love the coziness and happiness in my home. I am a nomad now, lost in one corner of the world, away from everything I know. But I know love, I know what love means and I know that love is the same thing everywhere you go. I am struggling  to find the love I have lost back in my real home.

I miss everything, I feel as if I am refraining from crying away all my sorrows. I feel that if I let myself cry, I will never stop. I will never find a shoulder to cry on, I will let myself be fragile and show that I am not the strong girl I always show.

And then I think about you and the sunny days I have had.  I keep losing myself in words, blabbering all my inspiration away. Let me see you, touch you, feel you and talk to you so that I can know I love you. Let me love you because I don’t want to love him.

I am not allowed to love him, so please help me, come closer to me, don’t let me go.  I need to love you, please don’t let me fall.

But who am I kidding? I am already falling hopelessly…

On walls.

M-a fascinat ideea asta de a face un reflective essay inca de prima oara cand am auzit-o pe profa’ de engleza vorbind despre asta intr-o discutie care continea si cuvantul olimpiada. M-am gandit la pereti, bariere, caramizi, beton si poate si un strat frumos de vopsea care sa acopere totul. Intre timp, mi-am dat seama ca toti peretii din jurul meu sunt doar un fel de cartoane si placi de rigips care pot fi daramate si puse in alt loc cu usurinta.

Insa, nu o sa neg faptul ca se construieste un zid mare, de beton , a carui formare nu o pot preveni si nici nu stiu daca ar trebui sa incerc asa ceva. E zidul cel mare, intre trecutul meu , intre tot ce a fost si tot ce va fi. E ca un fel de cerc in care inchid toate amintirile si ma apropii de punctul de inceput , 2*pi*R -ul finit ma constrange si ma face sa-mi doresc sa ma inchid si eu o data cu cercul si sa nu pornesc intr-o expansiune a lui, fiind prinsa undeva la mijloc intre zidul trecutului si zidul viitorului care nu stiu cum va fi. Se darama incet incet cartoanele, toate lucrurile pe care nu credeam ca voi ajunge sa le fac niciodata. Prea putine mai raman in picioare si pe masura ce se termina ciclul asta formidabil de 4 ani care a fost un fel de calatorie intr-un carusel absolut nebunesc dar extrem de placut in acelasi timp, amintirile incep sa dispara si viitorul incepe sa devina prezent.

Acum un an, fix un an , eram o copila speriata si cam naiva, care nu stia ca urmeaza sa treaca prin cele mai challenging si life-changing experiences of her entire life up to that point. Azi, am repetat acelasi ritual de acum un an. Si pe masura ce lucrurile se derulau in fata mea, ca un film pe care l-am mai vazut de multe ori,  m-am simtit doborata de oboseala, plictiseala si nevoia de schimbare. M-am simtit ca atunci cand plecam in drumetii si urcam pe varfuri de munte: nu mai aveam rabdare sa ajung in varf, pentru ca deja calatoria devenea o rutina. Filmul de azi l-am mai vazut de 7 ori ca protagonista. Si cu fiecare “play” pe care l-am apasat am devenit tot mai jaded si mai neinteresata de momentul cand pe ecran apare “the end”. Sincer, uneori nici nu imi pasa daca e cu happy ending sau nu. De parca toata viata mea s-ar termina aici, in acest punct . De parca as vrea ca toti peretii fiorosi sa ma stranga intre ei si sa ma protejeze, fara sa ma mai simt sufocata de proximitatea lor.

Cand au inceput sa fie aruncate vesti si scrisori de undeva de deasupra zidurilor a fost incantator. Totul era nou, orice veste era valoroasa. Iar acum, scrisorile se aduna pe un birou prea incarcat iar bucuriile sunt minuscule.

Pentru ce sa mai trec de ziduri? De ce sa nu raman aici? De ce nu POT sa raman aici? Am nevoie de un sprijin stabil, de cateva clipe de liniste in care sa pot sa imi dau seama ce e de facut. Si totusi, se misca. Nimic nu e constant, nimic nu ma poate ajuta sa revin din caderea asta, oricat m-as agata cu disperare de fiecare colt al stancii de pe care m-am aruncat in nestiinta de cauza.  Si toate colturile mi-au lasat urme adanci si zgarieturi care de cele mai multe ori se vindeca greu. Fundul prapastiei e la cativa metri departare, iar eu nu mai stiu cum sa cad la fel de liber si de gratios ca inainte. E foarte posibil sa ma zdrobesc de pamant si sa imi dau seama ca m-am aruncat degeaba in  abis. Dar e la fel de posibil sa pic pe o trambulina care sa ma arunce pe o stanca mai inalta decat a fost asta de acum si atunci ce o sa fac? Cred ca ambele ganduri ma sperie la fel de tare.

Da, azi a fost 7-le final care inchide tot. Cum s-au dus zilele de joi, verdele irlandez si fotografiile de visatori, noptile cu stele si muzica data tare, canapelele si pleoapele noastre grele , asa a venit si 7-le. Nu-mi pare rau. Orice ar fi, eu mi-am indeplinit datoria.

Deci. Cum ramane cu peretii?  Or sa se darame de la sine. Cum ramane cu rabdarea mea? Tot la fel de limitata. Oboseala e tot acolo.

Si senzatia aia pregananta ca nimanui nu-i pasa, e si aia acolo, mai puternica poate si decat oboseala. Pe acelasi loc cu “nimeni nu intelege, toti cred ca stiu tot si dau sfaturi inutile despre nimic”.

Peretii se vor darama de la sine. Peretii se vor darama de la sine…

Messed-up lives.

It is totally ok for me to be messy and depressed and in a dark place and feel like crap. But it is not ok for me to make others feel like their are ruining my life , when they are actually doing nothing to provoke me . I am messy. And not that messy , dirty , lazy person. I am messed-up inside. And it wasn’t until an hour ago that i did realize that my perfect bubble and my apparently OK world , turned out to be not-so-perfect , not-so-great .

I am the bitch who yells. I am tired , i am exahusted and bored to death. And I don’t like anything , I don’t feel like in the mood for anything. So , if someone was looking for Miss perfect gloomy face , I’d better be signing up for the awards night.

I’m perfectly aware that I should be happy and cheerful but i just feel like this shit I’ve been going through for over a year is pointless , fruitless and most of all freakin’ endless. Plus it makes me feel bad about myself.

As i take my sleeping pill and drink my water , I come to think about the day of tomorrow. I need the day of tomorrow to be good. I need to do good and stop doing this routine monthly. i need to stop being messy.

I hate all these papers lying around in my room , I hate fighting with dad for no good reason, I hate to know that my mom’s doctor appointment didn’t go well , I hate people whom you care about act wrong and say things you both wished they didn’t say , I hate that I feel that nobody actually cares anymore and most of all , I hate the fact that I hate .

I don’t feel ok ; in fact , i don’t feel ,  nothing at all. I feel as if I am barren of hope and making any effort at all is futile. And it is , to some extent. Because people don’t care no matter how much you’d fight for them , you’re just silly and childish. “So grow up you motherfuckers and stop acting like babies. You’re freakin grown-ups now so its time you started acting appropriately. “

If my work has not been in vain , I have a few months left until I go pretty far away from home and I get to be an adult. I get to wash my dishes , to do the laundry , to act all grown-up and stop laughing about idiot stuff. Hooray! And in the few months of my soon-to-be-old life left , in the few months i still have left with my parents , with my old friends , with all the people around me , all my sweet memories and places , I wish just that i could have JUST a little bit of fun . I wish things to be simple and that I didn’t have to worry about anything.

But , I am fucked enough to care about ridiculous things such as being happy when I have some growing up to do. And let’s also get some more gloomy-learning for my miss perfectly-depressed face.

The thing is , I want fireworks , i want to feel that if this is my last year of being a child and spending time with my parents i want to live every second of it as if i were a child. So what if they get pissed , let them be now for the petty things i can still do!  So what if i’m eighteen , i’m supposed to be all messy and think about my future-life and ask myself the eternal ” what if i end up broke and single at 40 ?” question ? I want sparkle , i want to live.

But nobody else does. Let’s just study and grow up , because when we were 5 , we thought that being teenagers or adults was gonna be freaking fun. We don’t appreciate what we have and we don’t let the people arround us aprreciate what they have. We have to want more , more , more , more , all the time MORE! And we end up in deep holes which we call depression and a shrink is asking us stupid questions about our childhood and about how we ended up on his comfy white chair , instead of living life as we should.

I’m angry , I’m messy , I’m a wreck. And as much as i’d want to stop hurting the people around me with my attitude , i’m afraid i can’t stop it until i heal myself. But somehow , the people around me are opening my wounds just when they are about to close and heal. It’s a vicious circle , so the best solution would be to give up.

We mess up our own lives and we afterwards blame either other people or fate . I don’t believe that i am who i am and that i should go with the flow , aka my anger and do what i feel because this is who i am . I think I  need to go deeper , find the fire behind my anger and put it out to let myself be happy and evolve even a tiny bit.

As I jot these things down , I know what’s the the backbone that makes my fingers hop on the keyboard. But there is nothing I can do about it and that feels frustrating.I’m tied up.

My life is messy and i am spiritually poor. I have nothing i need. It’s not even about the “MORE” we usually want , it’s about the simple need of letting go and being happy. And the world keeps proving to me that i deserve nothing , that i will get nothing.

Karma’s a bitch , but what did i do wrong?

P.s. I don’t have the time and patience needed to check  either the spelling or the content of such a text. So grow up and stop seeing my childish mistakes.

Scrisoare.

draga X,

nu stiu cum sa incep , pentru ca , de fapt , nu exista un inceput. existadoarfranturidinviatameaincareaparisitu.

nu indraznesc sa te deranjez. viata ta este suficienta fara mine si probabil ca uneori uiti ca am coexistat in acelasi loc , in acelasi timp , ca prieteni.

daca ti-as scrie o scrisoare pe care sa o si expediez , as inventa un cod care sa-ti poarte numele si l-as imbina cu sanscrita si heroglifele egiptene , ca sa te surprind pe tine , in esenta ta ,  mai bine.

nu stiu de ce am inceput aceasta scrisoare. poate doar , vreau sa vorbesc cu tine , dar mi-e teama.

nu , nu mi-e teama de respingerea ta , caci te cunosc prea bine si stiu cat de politicos mi-ai intampina tentativa de a afla  ce mai faci.

mai tii minte discutiile pe care le lungeam atat de mult ? despre oameni , despre umanitate in general , despre tot ceea ce eu nu stiam si despre tot ceea ce tu puteai sa ma inveti. as fi fost o eleva extraordinara , doar pentru ca tu ai fi fost profesorul meu. mi-e dor de tine.

poate ca scrisoarea asta e tot o izbucnire momentana . nu esti singura persoana din trecutul meu la care m-am gandit. doar ca la tine ma gandesc cel mai des , cel mai atent , cu cel mai mare regret.

de ce regret? pentru ca nu s-au petrecut lucurile altfel. altfel cum?altfel , pur si simplu.  poate daca ne nasteam in acelasi oras  , pe acelasi continent. daca frecventam aceeasi societate. daca as fi apucat sa te vad mai des.

uneori , nu fara fiori reci pe coloana , mi-aduc aminte de vocea ta. de mersul tau. de serile cu cer clar. de plimbari. de spaima si de vinovatia pe care am simtit-o atunci cand m-am grabit , iar tu m-ai urmat.

stiu ca efortul meu e lipsit de orice speranta . dar… as vrea sa pot face mai mult. pentru amandoi.

ma simt ca un om ce priveste in gol catre un trecut care e mult prea departe.e anacronica toata povestea asta , anii sunt milenii , iar minutele secole.

 

Acum e sfarsit de octombrie , nu mai e mai, ca atunci cand am inceput sa scriu. Si azi am recitit ce ti-am scris atunci. Parca te-am si uitat. Dar parca nu. Astazi ti-as spune ca am crescut , sa te uiti la mine , sa ma vezi. Dar nimeni nu mai vede, nimeni nu mai simte , nimeni nu mai crede. Pentru ce sa te intorci tu catre mine? Zadarnic mai sper la cineva care sa-ti semene. Zadarnic mai cred , mai sper , mai doresc.

As vrea sa-ti spun ramas bun acum , amintire a lui X. Poate voi reusi. Sau poate ca nu.

Adio ,

tinere vis ,

uitata speranta ,

copile cenumaiesti.

Explozii solare.

Nu stiu daca ati experimentat vreodata sentimente de fericire atat de intensa incat sa simtiti ca o sa explodati , ca or sa va dea lacrimile de fericire , ca o sa va dezintegrati pentru ca totul e atat de perfect. Momentan , eu traiesc afterglow-ul unui astfel de moment. Am avut cea mai buna vacanta so far si nu cred ca exista nici macar un singur lucru pe care sa-l regret. Ce am facut eu vacanta asta? Dumnezeule , am trait!

Printre cocktailuri si decandenta , sarutari furate si zambete vesele , undeva la mijloc , m-am regasit pe mine si am decis sa nu ma mai pierd. Iar sentimentul de cunoastere si recunoastere a fost atat de uimitor incat refuza sa ma paraseasca desi m-am intors de 2 zile din ceea ce va ramane in istoria vietii mele ca o metamorfoza generala a simturilor.

E greu de explicat si de inteles de ce ” I’ve had the time of my life ” prin cluburi si nopti albe , printre straini si in acelasi timp printre cunoscuti , de ce viata mea a capatat inteles dintr-o asemenea experienta aparent neimportanta.

Am invatat ca deciziile pe care le iei , aparent gresite sau corecte , sunt doar decizii care au o anumite influenta dar care nu pot sa te distruga sau sa te inalte pe culmile fericirii , ci doar sa te schimbe.

In postari mai vechi , vorbeam despre pasul ala ” Let go”.  God , it felt freakin good. Sincer , nu mi-a pasat de nimic si de nimeni , totul in jurul meu a fost relativ si am cazut intr-o stare pur egocentrica in care cel mai important era ca EU sa ma simt bine , sa traiesc , sa cunosc , sa invat si totul sa fie mai mult decat perfect pentru mine.

Am plecat fara asteptari , iar ce s-a intamplat a depasit orice asteptare as fi putut avea. Am fortat limite , am impins bariere si , mai presus de orice, anul asta am fost eu acolo , prezenta , vie , reala.

Si din amintirile ce raman , intre concerte si prieteni , rasarit , nisip si valuri , vanatori de comori , adevaruri aflate la momentul potrivit , dezbinari , bauturi si muuult dans , din toate astea eu raman cu gustul de independenta si savoarea de libertate pe care o are viata mea. Nu-mi pot dori nimic , absolut nimic mai mult acum. Si cand o sa-mi doresc , atunci nimic nu-mi va sta in cale , pentru ca daca ceva e menit sa fie al meu , atunci va fi .

Primesc tot ce imi doresc in fiecare zi , primesc chiar mai mult. Stiu ce primeaza acum , iar cand voi ajunge pe culmi si voi privi in jurul meu , voi sti ca merit , ca sunt acolo pentru ca pasii mei au fost facuti sa ajunga acolo.

Ca sa fiu si putin razbunatoare , pentru cei care cred ca am suferit zilele astea , din motive mai mult sau mai putin academice sau sentimentale , oh , imi pare rau pentru ca trebuie sa va multumesc ca mi-ati aratat potentialul meu de a lupta , de a invinge , de a arata cine sunt , ce vreau si cum se fac lucrurile in maniera mea.

To conclude , there are no better words than ” Can’t touch this” si tudor chirila:

This is it.

The title of that movie says a lot. It tells the story of people who have to choose between right and wrong and make their lives get a meaning and live , or die.

But it’s not that easy to say “That’s all folks !”. It just isn’t . And do believe me , ’cause I’ve been trying for a long time now to do the right things for me and for the people around me , but it still seems like I have chosen wrong.

Do you know how it feels to be surrounded by so many people who love you , with whom you have plenty of great nights and days , a plethora of men and women who are there to support you ? If you know this feeling of love , you probably feel happy and satisfied and fulfilled. I don’t. That’s why I feel ashamed for asking for more . Why doesn’t it feel like enough?

Is it because I caught a glimpse of those romantic looks and smiles and butterflies? Is it because I no longer feel understood by all these great people surrounding me? Is it because I feel there’s more to life than just fun? Is it because , in fact , when night falls , all these people go away , to the people they love more and just leave me alone , feeling empty and heart-aching?

I have developed an interest in some new things which help me cope with my life in a new way. But these new things take me even further away from my friends and family. And I resent that. You could say this is an uncanny feeling telling me that something is deeply wrong and that it is imperious for me to change that certain something.

And when I stare every night at my ceiling trying to fall asleep it’s him that I think about. And then I think about all the people in the world who have everything they wished for and need nothing more. And then I think about me. What about me? If they have it all , what about me?

I wish for passion and happiness and romance to knock at my door or rather… I wish for life to knock me off my feet. But I want that life I envision myself living , not this pitiful-version .

I am the poor one who needs goading and is simply satisfied with the leftovers for now. But I need  someone to come and tell me that we have so much in common , that we can’t live apart. I … just need someone to see the real me , to get me as I am and I need to see the real person inside of someone , whoever he or she might be. I need a connection , a bonding , something real to get me out of this mud I’ve been sinking into lately. And the worst part is that I feel I won’t get out of it soon.

There is no song to make me forget about this longing. There is no book to make me feel better. There is no one to make me sleep at night. There is nothing to prevent me from sleeping all my life during all these long days.

And though I know that indulging in work and Math and exams won’t help me , I still do it. There is only one being on this planet I feel I can talk to , but circumstances keep us apart from having a common path.

So , I still wait. I wait and I wait and I wait. And you fail me , each and every time . And I wait some more.  And you fail me once more. And I just wish you could be the one I saw in you the first time we talked. I found a little note I made when I was head over heels for you and planned to tell you how I really felt about you. And that note said: If you are the man I thought I saw in you last evening , you will act as you should act and you will not break my heart for saying this. But I never said that , because that day you didn’t even look me in the eyes without that arrogant smile you have every time you feel unsure of yourself.  So , you did break my heart once more. You did steal my confidence once more. You’re just… not who I imagined you would be.

My wounds are not superficial and my wounds can’t be healed as easy as some may think . But I will keep on looking at the ceiling until someone will come and sit next to me , warm me , and make me sleep during the night.

This is it. This is my life and I do not regret it , I accept it and wait for it to get better. After all,  if it doesn’t , it’s just life and I , for one , don’t know what’s gonna be afterwards , but if it’s that bad in here , how bad can it be somewhere else? I can handle it , I can cope with it. I can pretend I am living .

And the passion and the romance and the longing and my world that doesn’t fulfill any of my wishes ? perhaps it’s a karmic punishment for something i have done and can’t even recall.

I am fine . I always have been there , I always will be.

Because even if they don’t get me , those people who love me need me to love them back , need me next to them in order to survive . Just as I do. Even if it is not enough.

summerish feelings.

Uite ca a venit si ultima vara . Vara aia super in care Iuliei urmau sa i se intample multe. Acum vreo 8 ani , Iulia credea ca va face scoala de soferi , ca va avea o viata absolut movie-like si ca va petrece in fiecare weekend pana la rasarit.

Iulia de azi , e ceva mai decently reasonable . Iulia probabil nu va face scoala de soferi pentru ca nu are sprijinul singurului sofer al familiei , si fara asta degeaba ar merge la scoala.  Iulia nu petrece in fiecare weekend , ci se straduieste sa invete minimum 2 ore pe zi in asteptarea rezultatelor de la diferitele testari pe care le da. Iulia petrece cel putin o zi intreaga in fiecare saptamana facand supe , ciorbe si spaland vase. Si Iulia regreta multe lucruri in fiecare zi si in fiecare secunda.

Imi plac zilele cu ploaie. Imi place sa o ascult pe Susie Suh si sa vad filme denumite mindfuck movies. Imi place sa fac prajituri pe care sa nu le mananc. Imi place sa ma joc cu motanii. Imi place sa citesc.

Si totusi , toate astea nu au un inteles prea …inteligibil. Sunt doar franturi care nu se leaga , fara sens. Cam asa e si vara asta si cam asa e si viata mea.

Trebuie sa decid ce voi face. Acum cateva zile am renuntat complet la medicina , literatura si filosofie. Chestie care ma lasa undeva fix in mijlocul unui drum fara indicatoare.

Asta scriam pe 20 iunie. Azi e 4 iulie. Si realizez ca sentimentele mele de la inceput de vacanta au fost decat amplificate , si nu atenuate.

E pacat , mare pacat pentru tot , pentru orice. E gol , e pustiu , nu-i decat furtuna , iar copacii singuratici se lasa smulsi din radacina de torente prea puternice pentru a fi infruntate.

sper ca macar altora sa le mearga mai bine decat mie.

Valurile.

E ciudat cum , pur si simplu astept aici , in semi-intunericul camerei mele , ceva.

Si tot asa de ciudat , tacuta si perfida , se apropie de simturile mele amintirea ta.

Iti simt parfumul , desi nu esti aici. Te vad in fata unui soare nu prea cald.

Si visez la zilele pline raze de sperante de acum mult timp , cand tu nici nu erai.

Cred ca am nevoie de o simpla tigara si totul va fi mai bine.

Hai . Trimite-ti amintirea departe de mine si lasa-ma sa-mi traiesc vara fara sa cad. Macar vara asta merit un iulie calm si un august nebun , fara tine sau oricine altcineva.

Si daca vrei sa fii aici , atunci te vreau pe tine si nu amintirea ta sau imaginea ta. Te vreau pe tine , daca tot ai decis sa ma bantui.

Si daca nu o sa te mai vreau aici , atunci cand o sa vad ca ma impac mai bine cu amintirea decat cu realitatea , cu ceea ce esti acum? Asuma-ti riscuri. Cum crezi ca o sa traiesti daca nu risti? Sau poti sa te protejezi in coconul tau in care eu nu mai sunt sau poate nici n-am fost. E decizia pe care o iei mereu.

Dar nu-mi lasa mie amintiri si regrete. Pentru ca furia mea nu va avea limite. Si vei suferi la fel de mult ca mine.

You think I am broken? You think you can see the pieces of me crashing at your feet? think again. look again. Someday you will realize that you needed me to want you , more than I really wanted you. Someday I will forget all of it , and you’ll be the one haunted by memories. But one thing is clear: I am not the broken rag doll you think you see.

Ramane doar gustul amar.

press play:

Simt cum se sfarseste totul in jurul meu , iar eu raman ca o insula mica , un petic de nisip in mijlocul unui ocean. Si da , mi-e dor de el. Uneori ma sperii cat de intens imi aduc aminte de el. Ca as vrea sa-l readuc in prezentul meu , as putea sa neg cu vehementa ani in sir , dar adevarul e ca daca as avea ocazia sa-l mai vad o singura data l-as privi si atat. Nu cred ca ar avea rost sa intreb ceva. Doar stiu destul de clar ce s-a intamplat.

E incredibil. Cu ani in urma , cand am facut ultimii pasi care sa ma departeze de acel bar galagios unde ne-am intalnit ultima oara , nu am regretat atat cat regret acum. Ce regret acum? Practic nu ca tu nu mai esti , ci ca nu mai e nimeni ca tine. Tu nu ai fost oricine , tu nu ai fost pur si simplu tipul cu plete din barul intunecat . Tu mi-ai fost mai prieten decat mi-ar fi putut fi oricine altcineva. Deci da , ma sperii la gandul ca nimeni nu mai e ca tine.

Mi-a pasat prea mult de tine si am tinut prea mult la tine ca sa mai am curaj sa caut pe altcineva. Si amintirea ta era atat de bine ascunsa de mine incat atunci cand a rasarit , aproape ca am intrebat cu voce tare : ” Tu ce cauti aici?”.

Si ai refuzat sa mai pleci. Si acum te tot rog sa pleci , sa dispari , sa ma lasi sa imi consum existenta fara sa trebuiasca sa suport si regretul de a te fi pierdut ; pe tine si tot ceea ce ai fost tu . Nu as fi crezut ca ani mai tarziu , cand totul parea uitat ma vei chinui atat de tare.

Sunt singura. Atat de singura incat amintirea asta , careia refuz sa-i dau drumul a ramas singura parte din mine intacta. Mi-ai fost esential atunci , iar acum , ca sa pot creste , am nevoie tot de tine , desi in absenta ta.

Am invatat de la tine , am trait alaturi de tine , am fost un organism simbiotic perfect pana cand tu m-ai acaparat si fortele noastre au devenit inegale. Ne-am departat , ne-am uitat , ne-am refacut vietile uitand unul despre celalalt.

Astazi , zilele astea , luna asta , se termina ultima parte din viata mea aparent superba. Ma asteapta multe pe care mi-ar fi placut sa le infruntam impreuna. Sa fii acelasi prieten pe care ma puteam baza mereu .Sa ma strangi doar o data tare in brate si sa-mi spui ca totul va fi bine , ca o sa trec de toate astea cu bine.

Mi-ar fi placut sa-ti cant No you girls de la Franz Ferdinand pentru ca imi placea gustul tau de tigari. Mi-ar fi placut sa ne uitam la the Perfume impreuna. Mi-ar fi placut sa mergem impreuna la concertul Aerosmith. Mi-ar fi placut sa nu te fi schimbat si sa ramanem mereu aceiasi copii ancorati in globul nostru de sticla.

Cineva m-a intrebat azi daca nu cumva nu sunt bine. Pentru noi , bine are o simbolistica specifica , ne putem vedea starea de bine dupa simple gesturi. Mi-ar fi placut sa vezi tu ca eu nu sunt bine , sa nu ma lasi sa plec de langa tine , sa ma prinzi de mana si sa ma saruti inca o data asa cum ai facut in ultima seara fara resentimente pe care am petrecut-o impreuna. Dar nu esti aici , iar eu sunt tot singura , tot fara tine , tot la fel de lipsita de speranta ca va mai fi cineva asa cum ai fost tu. Sunt la final acum. Se termina tot pentru mine.

So , would you please come back just to say that you did stop pretending that you did not break my heart?

i.