What a night!

What do you get when you put together a "freshly" neutered cat that won't stand being on its own,an Arctic Monkeys blog (with matching soundtrack) and yours truly,with an accompanying ache brought about by the wisest of teeth?

Well,you get a sleepless night,semi-hallucinations and a general sensation that you've greeted the New Year one night too soon.

It's one thing to go to bed at a time that barely misses the sunrise,but it's a whole other story oscillating between sleep and restlessness from about 3:30 am to 7 am.
And,thanks to this most memorable experience,I've spent today as a zombie,with no interest in school or life or anything.I "stole" a nap,but even that was a fail because my loving and fat kittens decided to keep me warm (as in "they sat on my chest and I woke up because I couldn't breathe anymore at some point")."The adventures of a pet owner"-live and uncut,ladies and gentlemen!

Anyway,today doesn't even seem like the last year at all!There's no snow outside,I'm spending tonight at home and I feel pretty darn miserable,to be honest.

"The end" never felt so incomplete...

Too bad for empathy...

When I die,it will be by my own hand.And not my real hand (hopefully),but of that intricate metaphor which combines all that I am into one.In short,it will be love and hate and everything in between.

I'm such a frightful creature,though!While most of the time I strive for the screaming part to be internal,there are circumstances,even common like the one today,when you just can't hide shaking hands and a trembling voice.In part,it's utter feeble character,I'll admit wholeheartedly,but what I'm most afraid of is loss.

I don't have much,but it surely feels like a lot when I suddenly realize it's risen dust and that it must someday fall again.I can't even bring myself to say the word,let alone...

I keep on trying,even though I almost swore I wouldn't do it anymore.Why can't I keep the promises I make to myself?Maybe that's a form of cowardice as well...

If I could,I would gather all the pain surrounding me and I'd pour it into myself.It makes me miserable to the core when I see someone or something that I love suffering.Me?I'm a tough cookie,I can take it-even when I can't.But them?
I guess it's a matter of perspective.Though I suspect a long night ahead...

Little miracle

and,for once in a lifetime,
this Sunday doesn't feel like
a cement claw
awaiting for me to fall
to my knees
and surrender

normal coffee,normal blanket,
normal worries-
no weird gut churning,
no apocalyptic mid-day crisis,
no peculiar sunset,
which seems like a blessing
and a spiritual kiss

maybe the calendar broke
into little pieces with
no name or identity,
so that I could live
in sequences
of emotions and rainy days

so,for once in forever,
this Sunday didn't break
my heart

Family all around

Waking up before 9 am on a holiday is just wrong.
Red sweater,black pants,I'm ready for a revolution,yes.
I should really learn how to drive this summer.
I will never feel as embarrassed as when my father yelled at my mother in front of distant relatives.
This is where I'm supposed to be-in the middle of nature,soaking up all its richness,learning how to enjoy the silence yet again.
Delicious food,a warm room,lovely grandmother-is there any other type of "good life" besides this one right here?
If the whole college thing goes to the deuce,then I'm becoming a full-time photographer.
It should be physically impossible for me to walk around after that much food.
Though not often performed, this "family visiting ritual" never fails to have something special to it.
What a beautiful sunset to seal such a beautiful day!
When I said "I'll stay in the car",I never imagined waiting for about 2 hours in the cold and dark,but whatever.
I've managed to start missing my cats after not even one full day.
Candy and stories-I'm in.
I'm tired,but I know I won't be able to sleep,so let's stare around the room and reminisce...

Older honey

   My dearest friend,

   Another year has gone by and,by God knows which miracle,you have still decided to call me "friend".You may be older,love,but you're not wiser...

   I thank you for accepting me as I am,college-smothered and crazy-coated and all.You are one of the most wonderful people I know and I'm grateful to the Universe for deciding to put us in parallel desks in high school.

   Your insanely good drawings remind me of winter poppies,star-like stories and black&white anatomy;they also remind me how blessed I am to be around such an artist and person from which I can learn to grow.

   You've always been there when I needed a piece of advice or to rant or just to fangirl over people who have descended from the Heavens onto this earth to torment us with perfection.Though I am sorry for not always being there when you needed me,I really am.

   Thank you for all these beautiful years and late-night talks and cups of coffee shared on sleepy mornings.Thank you for all those silly,inappropriate jokes and memorable summer songs and green-tainted photos.Thank you for being you.

   Happy birthday,love!

Yours truly,

A.

Not a plan in sight

It's a bloody curse,no more,no less.There's no other logical explanation.I mean,how would you otherwise account for the fact that I can never make any sort of plans?

If I want to go somewhere,something inevitably comes up or I get "people fright" or whatever.If I want to write,then the walls seem to be caving in and a sudden urge to hide under the bed overwhelms me.If I want to watch a movie,the TV turns all fuzzy or we have relatives coming over.My "carpe diem" is really fucked up,man.

People say I'm crazy for thinking this way,but I think it's just rather sad and a little tragic.I mean,I even chose where to go to high school at the last moment.Same goes for college.What's next?Don't answer that.

I am literally afraid to plan ahead because I always get this gut feeling it's all going to go to Hell.Why even bother then?

And,in all honesty,it's frustrating when others laugh,but I really do feel powerless.And it's not only about the small things...

I'm not good at "living the moment",but I seem to be forced into this truce by an invisible force.So I can't promise anything-ever.

Yep,not a plan in sight for me.Which is basically...awful.

"Merry Christmas!"

the tree is freezing in another room
and I'm too angry to go see my "present"
and I spent the morning reading
and my grandmother kissed me on the forehead
and the cats have stinky breath
and I can't talk to my mother
and the sun is a cheapskate
and I'm drowning in cold music
and this sweater is itchy
and the world might as well have stopped turning
and dinner is a joke
and coffee is my new religion
and the "holiday cheer" seems real only on TV
and I can't remember the last time I painted my nails
and I can't stop eating oranges
and I feel like utterly giving up
and dad said "thank you!"
and I wish I had more courage
and the room appears to be a dimming cocoon
and the air is filled with sparks of fire
I wish I could turn into stars

I don't get it

It doesn't feel like a holiday anymore,not one single bit.

I remember being a kid and taking pictures under the Christmas tree.I remember the sweetness of everything around me and how it felt right falling asleep while waiting for Santa Claus.I remember an innocent sort of happiness I'll never feel again.

Time went by and here we are now.What happened along the way?Where is at least one spark of that young magic?Why do I seem to be greeting the end of something?

People are angry and I'm thinking about distant responsibilities and the lack of snow outside is making me miserable.

I don't get how tomorrow means the first day of Christmas,it's a very surreal concept.Yes,mom's making food and there are colorful lights around the windows and the TV screen flaunts the same jolly-themed movies,but...why?It might as well be a chilly August day-I'd rather be willing to ignore the calendar than admit I'm becoming more and more numb.

These are just simple days of idleness before the storm.

I miss being a child.I miss the way chocolate tasted that morning.I miss being happy and not knowing.

Lack of spirit

You know what I hate most about the holidays?The fact that we just can't get along as a family.
Every single year there has got to be some sort of problem or fight or both.I'd hate to say the word "curse",but I can't seem to find a better substitute.And it sucks to think that you'll never get a glimpse of Christmas spent as they show it in coffee commercials or whatnot.
I don't want perfection,far from me such an impossible goal-I just want us to get along,to be somehow happy,I don't know,not fuck up another chance of being together.I'm tired of feeling like I'm walking on glass ,that I should always calculate what I'm about to say,that we're a time-bomb on the verge of exploding.
Christmas isn't what it used to be anymore,I understand it all too well.But I can't become a child any more than they can,so we'll have to make do with the present.
I don't care about gifts,about oranges or about a tree,I care about us first and foremost.Well,I care a little about the oranges though...
If,at some sort of spiritual/alien/parallel universe level,Santa is real,then all I want from him this year is balance,understanding,a family as should be.

Magnolia fields

Un deal lugubru si inecat in noroi.Picioare ingreunate de urcus.Sentimentul de groaza permanenta.Un camp intins cat vezi cu ochii in toate directiile.Copaci ascutiti si negri culcati in siruri la pamant.In cateva crengi,corcituri mari si carnoase de magnolii-bujori.Un cer limpede in tonuri stridente de fucsia si oranj.Liniste infricosatoare.Senzatia de prada.Se rupe filmul.

In sinea mea ingenua,credeam ca somnul a ramas un ultim refugiu in care sa scap de toata nebunia pe care mi-o aduc singura ca un blestem din timpul zilei.Se pare ca m-am inselat:ma urmareste frica pana si mai departe de intuneric.De parca sunt si vesela rau in ultima vreme!Acum ma lupt cu mine pe doua fronturi.Nici nu vreau sa descifrez ce inseamna...asta.Nu ma ajuta cu nimic.Nu dispare senzatia...

Duminica e intotdeauna o zi dubioasa,dar asta parca le intrece pe toate.De parca oscilez intre doua realitati,intre doua lumi,dar niciuna nu-mi place suficient cat sa ma simt intreaga.Am incercat sa-mi ocup timpul mintii cu altceva,insa ceva meschin din mine a tinut neaparat sa retraiasca iar si iar si iar cosmarul.Nu credeam ca florile pot aduce atata amar.

Late birthday

mi-a fost dor de noi,
de locul unde ne-am intalnit atatea veri,
de imbratisarea care amuteste cuvintele,
de pasul alert care ne-nfasoara cand vrem
sa cucerim noaptea

mi-a fost dor de masa din lemn,
de fumul persistent al tigarilor straine,
de vinul fiert care ne aminteste
de toate povestile pe care le-am insufletit
impreuna

mi-a fost dor de cadourile cu trecut in spate,
de secretele pe care le impartasim,
de sentimentul ca acolo exista cineva
care te cunoaste altfel
decat te vezi singur in oglinda

mi-a fost dor sa ne plangem sincer
de oamenii absurzi,
de timpul pierdut,
de intrebarile fara raspuns
pe care le traim zi de zi

mi-a fost dor de o plimbare prin parc,
de rasetele nocturne,
de clipele inghetate (literalmente) in timp
si spatiu luminat

mi-a fost dor de noi trei

Money and candy

I woke up late.
I didn't care that I woke up late because "Eff it!".
I ate breakfast and enjoyed some steaming coffee.
I convinced my dad to go shopping with me.
I cherished the fact that my bank account had money in it again (though it should have been there since 2 months ago and now it's currently drained once again,so...).
I bought candy for others.
I argued with my mother over the phone because,hey!,the holidays are almost here!
I started buying presents (what an adventure that's going to be!).
I came home and crashed into my bed.
I smothered my cats with affection.
I realized what a blessing it is to have more than one room to move around in.
I confessed my orange addiction.
I started my new career as a "handmade professional" (though my room looked like the aftermath of a textile war).
I almost gave up.
I fed my new Arctic Monkeys obsession because HELL YEAH!
I came to the conclusion that my pantry is blissfully packed with wine.
I almost broke another needle.
I figured that cats aren't great helpers when it comes to working with thread.
I shoved everything under the bed.
I called it a night.

Oh-so-lazy!

toate planurile si
toate sperantele si
toate asteptarile
sigur vor ramane in imparatia
"posibilitatii"

toate noptile prost dormite si
toate grijile stupid formulate si
toate zilele cand m-am simtit
ca un om taiat in jumatate
vor fi razbunate

toate melodiile alb-negru dur si
toate canile de cafea si
toate orele lenese
poarta amprenta mea

toate zilele de "maine" si
toate regretele de "ieri" si
toate apasarile de "astazi"
vor fi (momentan) sigilate

toate cate sunt si
toate cate vor fi si
toate cate n-au fost sa fie-
acum,le punem in dulap si
le intoarcem spatele

Hazy return

Ultima noapte petrecuta aici pe anul 2013.Spuma dulce a cafelei.Mainile deja speriate de bagaj.Bluza rosie.Usa incuiata.Lungul si chinuitorul drum de la metrou.Sala aproape goala.Participarea cam ratata.Texte faine.Ore taiate din ceas.Curs placut.Subiect important.Calorifer impartit cu o "Oaie" draga.Seminar de la care mai bine lipseam."Sarbatori fericite!".Fuga pentru castigarea catorva ore in plus acasa.Frig infernal.Brate care se incapataneaza sa tremure.Masina prinsa "la timp".Strain frumos si somnoros.Muzica de "ars" orele.Ceata fara nimic bun in ea.Amorteala de la destinatie.Saluturi de revedere.Familie completa.Masa calda.Despachetare care umple biroul de carti.Sambure de panica.Pisoi mult prea rasfatati si scumpi.Sentimentul de liniste si pace care nu va mai putea fi recuperat dupa seara aceasta.Cafea nocturna si suficient meritata.Cateva seriale "ratacite".Dorul de copilarie.Planuri mult prea marete pentru a putea fi infaptuite.Melodii cat suporta castile.Patul care nu are ceva impotriva spatelui meu.Epuizare precoce.Intoarcere prelungita-bifat.

On the roads

Scoala-te.Mananca.Incropeste o cafea.Strecoara-te (impotriva legilor fizicii si bunului simt) in metrou.Suporta linistea cel putin penibila.Chinuite-te patru ore in cel mai stupid exercitiu de "educatie" la care ai luat parte vreodata.Fugi la metrou.Injura aglomeratia.Rascoleste toate holurile caminului.Desparte-te de bani.Asteapta la xerox.Blesteama-ti geaca mult prea groasa pentru un astfel de maraton.Asteapta metroul (din nou).Recupereaza-ti prietena la urmatoarea statie.Ia (din nou) drumul facultatii.Respira.Profita de apa existenta ca o camila in oaza (frumoasa comparatie,stiu)."Pescuieste" un covrig de prin ghiozdan si boteaza-l "pranz".Incearca sa nu adormi pentru urmatoarele 2 ore (desi cursul este superb,tu esti terminata si-ti cam vine sa mori).Plimba-te o statie cu fetele.Intoarce-te (parca impotriva vointei tale) la camin.Mananca.Odihneste-te.Prefa-te ca inveti (pentru ce,numai Dumnezeu o stie...).Refugiaza-te in bagaje(le care te vor chinui maine dincolo de cuvinte).Asculta niste muzica (noua obsesie=Arctic Monkeys).Stai la taclale cu vecina de la 10.Pregateste-ti prezentarea de a doua zi (cica).Hai,gata,pune-te la somn!

"Secret Santa" operation

E un sentiment minunat ca in cadrul unei comunitati destul de substantiale sa se cristalizeze un nucleu uman de la sine,iar tu sa faci parte din el.Pe romaneste,"ii tare fain" sa-ti gasesti o "bisericuta" si sa simti ca te leaga o prietenie frumoasa de oamenii din ea.
Daca mai adaugi si elementul de "cadou surpriza",atunci chiar ca ai reteta unei amintiri "bune".Daca toate zilele de luni ar fi ca cea de astazi,ce bine ar fi!Am dat,am primit,am bucurat,m-am bucurat,ce mai vrei?
In tot frigul si nebunia care ma inconjoara,am gasit in acest gest o mica forma de evadare pentru care sunt recunoscatoare.In plus,mi s-a facut inima mai mare cand am realizat sa ne stim,ne cunoastem,dar ne si recunoastem.Nu mai mentionez faptul ca suntem toate niste nebune si ca ne comportam uneori de parca am avea cel mult 5 ani,asta e confidential.
Ideea de baza este ca mai uit de mine si de problemele care-mi orbiteaza in jurul fruntii (fie ele reale sau nu) cand facem efortul de a demonstra ca ceva merita efortul.
Mosule,ai fost un scump!Iti multumesc si promit ca-ti fac prajituri bune anul asta!

Giving up

Pot,dar nu vreau.
Singurele 3 clipe de fericire pe care le-am simtit vreodata au avut mereu radacinile in prima gura de cafea de dimineata.
Mi-e mila de mine insami cand realizez ca tot entuziasmul imbuteliat nu se transforma niciodata in energie utila.
Orele dintre "acum" si "tren" sunt stupid pierdute si nelinistite.
Zapaceala de "papoy" raspandita peste tot,e amuzant de scump!
Imi pun cadoul in geanta si ma bucur de o bucurie straina.
Mai plec mult fara sa vreau?
Citeste,Adriana,ca doar la asta te pricepi in ultima vreme...
Hai sa ne jucam de-a "cati oameni incap in vagonul asta fara sa ne rasturnam?".
E mult prea frig,renunt,ma duc sa ma agat de Ecuator.
Oricat de mult incerc,nu pot sa numesc spatiul asta stramt si alb "casa".
Rutina salveaza totul,dar la fel de bine ingroapa orice speranta de evolutie.
"Film sau carte?" nu mai e pentru mine o alegere,ci o trista obligatie.
De cand am renuntat eu oare la cea de-a doua cafea?
Cel mai mare regret curent al meu este faptul ca n-am niciun talent practic.
E grav daca am ajuns sa-mi fie frica de oameni.
...ca tare-mi era dor de salteaua asta!
Nu vreau,nu pot,lasati-ma.

A world of loss

m-am saturat sa privesc in urma
doar ca sa adun
fragmente de huma si sticle

m-am saturat sa-mi fie delimitata inima in
"important","esti nebuna!",
"de ce dracu' plangi pentru asta?",
eu nu sunt o masina,
duceti-va si urlati voi intr-o fabrica!

m-am saturat sa ma simt neputincioasa,
de parca mi-ar fi mainile
din polei
si viata un scenariu in curs de dezastru

m-am saturat de obligatii
care prevestesc
pastile de tensiune si viziuni contorsionate si
un psiholog lasat in cabinet plangand

m-am saturat sa ma subminez
singura

m-am saturat sa pierd tot ce
iubesc

m-am saturat sa-mi traiesc viata
ca un mort

More bitter than sweet

I can never win,can I?Not one single fucking time...Any and every ounce of happiness I collect seems to instantly become a magnet for tainted loss.
Why?Why?Why?!Is it a curse?Is it blinded perception?Is it merely life as we know it?Fuck it,fuck it all...
I wish my heart were smaller and more bitter.Love begets heartache-always has and always will.And I never learn to care less because I simply can't.And I hate it,I loathe it with all my flesh and bones and everything!
I'm tired of tears and anxiety and feeling like others see me as a madman!Fucking Hell...Why isn't it an option for the ground to split open and swallow you for all eternity?I'm angry and I desperately want to break something,but I'm afraid somebody's already crumbling now...
I never want to care again.About anything.Or anybody.I want to be hollow and numb and incapable of emotion.I want to feel as if I'm not.If this is living,then stop the world-I want to get off this ride.
Crushing my temples in my palms isn't helping,neither is any sort of distraction.Silence is worse.I can't even cry.Fuck feeling.

Not so great expectations

the taste of words lingers at the back
of my skull
with broken diplomacy and I'm drunk
on stories I wish were carved
in my own pen's
blood

"never expect anything" should be tattooed
onto my heart
with silver threads because,my God!,
I'm such a sucker for beauty
and no-win scenarios that so often
crawl
in my mind and in my hopes and in my
stomach

I'm a "rock star" when it's dark both
inside and outside
this world I feel rejected from because
of my own flawed conception
about how life should go
and dreams should become
and lies should be told

I'm done
with my own faults

Vapid days

Lost,lost,lost.Utterly lost.
These are vapid days that contribute to my being with no more than ticking hours,endless needs and growing headaches.Waking up feels wrong and going to bed becomes pointless- everything in between is just a hazy labyrinth which I can't seem to defragment on time.
Still,there's no escaping from the chaos,only momentary blindness and numbing of your soul's senses.Chores are gathering like black armies all around,a rush of inevitable loss,yet I can't gather the strength to face them.
I get scared,I've always been so.Of everything and anything,especially when I take a step back and contemplate the horizon of my own life.I know I won't change the world,but must I really feel like I'm just...there?
I wish the person standing in the mirror could talk back more wisely.I wish the person in my mind would become real one day soon.I wish I could somehow view myself as a person in its full substance once again.
Such days are tiresome...Not because they greedily steal time,but because they emphasize its loss.
My tongue is sticky and completely annoyed.

Facing myself

I hate waking up early in the morning.
Nightmares mortify me.
I hope I dreamed that cockroach crawling on my finger.
I used to loathe the color red when I was little,but now I don't shy away from it anymore.
I can't stand the fact that my stomach and courage fail me when I'm nervous.
I am 99% made up of coffee.
I write better than I can talk.
I can't stand stupid people,even though I'm one of them.
I see myself as though I'm another,yet still myself,and I often don't like what I'm seeing.
I believe making other people happy is in itself a source of joy.
I never get used to how many gorgeous people are on the subway each day.
I'm constantly thinking (and worrying) about home.
I am incapable of speaking my own mind.
I'm not ashamed of having that many pillows.
I could positively do without these sickening headaches.
I wish I were one of the "cool kids" for once.
I am always so damn angry on the inside.
I would turn into a cat if given the option.
I desperately ache to find a purpose.
I believe I will never marry.
I am wasting time.
I could eat a muffin right now.
I need to face myself once an for all.

Frozen soles

the sun is drenched in mist
this morning
and my legs are stiff with time
spent in the dark

my lives are fractured pieces
spread between
those I love,those I loathe and
those that are gone

I'm always fascinatingly angry
on a Monday-
do "new beginnings" feel like an end
all of a sudden?

chunks or the crowd
elude me
in a twisted sort of dance
underground

the moon is a hidden,broken
jewel,
but I'm too poor to rob
the stars

I am because I breathe

Idle being

Nu-mi mai pasa.Nu mai pot.Nu mai am energie.M-am saturat de oamenii aia si de "balaceala prin cunostinte" si de faptul ca tot ce ramane dupa atata amar de efort e o cifra.
Sincer,mi-e rusine cu mine: mi-e rusine ca,desi au trecut atatia si atatia ani (de chin),eu tot nu am invatat sa invat (pentru mine).Asa ca ma chinui singura si ii trag si pe altii de mana cu mine.
Prin urmare,eu incep sa renunt.Imi bag proverbialele picioare si ma dedic in exclusivitate inertiei.
Pentru ce,frate?Sa rada oamenii meschini de tine si sa realizezi ca lumea nu e lume,ci jungla de asfalt si hartii si aberatii?!Nu,multumesc!Mi-e bine in nepasarea mea stagnanta.N-o sa se aleaga nimic de mine,o simt si o stiu.Dar trebuie sa invat sa nu-mi pese,asta e singura solutie.
"Nimic nu conteaza","nimic nu conteaza","nimic nu conteaza"-poate imi intra in cap cu forta...
O sa beau cafea pana se termina.O sa fiu fericita cu portia.O sa ma prefac ideal ca sunt altcineva si ca-mi vizionez propria viata dintr-un corp inconfortabil de familiar.Atfel nu pot sa ma impac (in toate mintile) cu realitatea.
Patura trasa peste cap,ochii focusati,mintea placut redusa la burete.
Ma reduc sistematic la "fiinta" fara "a fi".

Delusional syndrome

our bodies should have
self-destruction buttons
for all those neatly crafted daydreams
that leave behind their
comet-like tails
merely despair
and coffee-blue tongues

misery is honey when served alongside
universes left unborn
and unfit
to conquer the reality of dirty hair
and tainted teeth
and ages never to be reversed
or revived

but how I ache for this poison,
this delusional syndrome
of a life well spent!

in my imagination,I am the queen
and my king
is never the same

not once have I wanted to be
somebody
more than today

Run for the gun!

For such an unexciting life,I sure do run a lot...
And it's not so much about the action itself,but the restlessness that lies beneath these worn out soles.Where am I going?Why am I doing this?What am I running for?I'd hate to draw a conclusion in the form of a morbid metaphor,but...But.
I'd laugh at my own balancing act,but that would be just sad and cruel.Though the way I cover my own growing insecurity under the masks of "family" and "duty" is a joke I can hardly bear anymore.What should it be then?Forced maturity or slow descent into the mediocre past?Because of the two evils I must choose that which causes less tears,be them real or not.
"Is this the time for life-altering decisions?" I ask myself.Of course not!I'm home,I'm safe,I'm tired.My bones feel like broken twigs and everything seems possible...in my imagination.You cannot picture the rush of courage seclusion brings about!Maybe that's why it's so damn depressing to witness the confrontation between the hero in my mind and the stale image of the present...
I run.I'm constantly running-not towards,but from.From myself,from change,from limitation.One day,I'll find that gun.

Not people

They are not people.
They are but glass figures that break everything in sight,for fear of not being crushed themselves.
They single you out with scheming eyes that twist kindness into perversity and love into condemnable lust.
They disguise their need to use and abuse under sweet masks that sometimes crack and ooze.
They take advantage of even the slightest display of humanity because they seem to consider it a flaw or a weakness.
They smile when facing you,but grin when you turn your back.
They have souls that come through in the end as wounded animals.
They know how to win battles with a minimum of effort because they draw success from others like parasites.
They never know how to take a hint or,maybe,they pretend frighteningly well.
They render me very,very,very tired.
They desire to conquer and command and I don't have the willingness to stand in their way anymore.
They say "thank you!" while the rattling of a snake echoes in the background.
They are the reason why I lost my faith in the human race- because I know bad breeds don't easily go extinct.
They don't deserve names,only slight shrugs.
They are not people- not to me.

Floating hours

Some days aren't even worth the trouble,to be honest.
In retrospective,they seem to have been meant for a prolonged nap and maybe some strong liquor (to numb the nightmares).Why waste that much energy just to have the pointlessness of everything displayed in front of you like a burlesque show?
I never do let everything sink in- that is except for when I'm idle and prone to overthinking all the small details we tend to overlook in our daily routine.Then things get out of hand and out of logic and I start to freak out and I don't want to talk about it anymore.
Now I can say I truly understand those people who wouldn't be caught dead wasting time by doing nothing- activity keeps your mind busy,away from the hurtful ghouls of human confinement.Too bad my bones are drenched in laziness.I guess I must bear the curse of my own formation...
I'm staring at the ceiling,but no epiphany is going to drip from it onto my forehead soon.Maybe if I'll concentrate enough,I'll become a plant.In some aspects,I already feel like one,so why not embrace it wholeheartedly?Good God...
Remember when I mentioned I severely lack courage?Well,nothing has improved in that particular area.
Stupid,floating hours...

Wasting borrowed time

tick-tock goes the clock
past my crimson swollen
heart

tick-tock drum my temples
as the sun sends shivers
in the afternoon

tick-tock break my soles
in dirty alley corners
after dark

tick-tock swallows the bed
heaps of hollowed pens
tonight

tick-tock cries my breast
against iron claws
that spiral

tick-tock blush my arms
beneath admired cloth
in the morning

tick-tock goes the clock
without even stopping
to watch

Unfaithful alarm clock

Why is it that nothing goes as planned for me sometimes?I mean,I've had worse nights and yet I've managed to get up on time and go to class.Today was not one of those days...

No,sir,I woke up with the sun blazing through the windows and a general gut feeling of "Fuck!".Anyway,I dragged myself out of bed and the rest is history (and by "history" I mean "another shitty day").
Mondays usually are chunks of meaningless time,but that's another thing altogether.The main idea is that the smallest of things can make the most "majestic" of human constructions crumble.My little devil was a red alarm clock today,which I don't even remember "meeting" at the appointed time,but whatever...
I'm tired and I'm pissed on life.I'm lacking that spark which turns "survival" into "living" and I'm willing to slide into oblivion.
I don't know,man,I'm just so...strange.Strange-a stranger when facing my own core,when meeting familiar people as if for the first time,when waking up in the morning to see a 7:22 clock.This existence is such a peculiar thing,don't you believe?Full to the brim with questions and always so reserved when it comes to answers.
Why is it that nothing goes according to plan?!

Warm jacket

Astazi este o zi speciala,dar eu nu o simt ca fiind asa.Este inca o zi in care plec,in care vremea trage spre albastru,in care nu mai stiu ce si cum.Ma consoleaza haina pufoasa si sentimentul de rutina pe sfarsite,dar...Dar.

O profesoara draga mie a spus candva "libertatea este cea mai grea alegere"; am stiut inca de pe atunci cata dreptate ingrozitoare avea.Am avut de ales toata viata,chiar si atunci cand am refuzat s-o fac.Pacat ca deciziile nu-si dezvaluie imediat urmarile...

Chiar as fi vrut sa raman astazi acasa- sa stau,sa ma uit la TV,sa nu-mi mai pese de atatea inutilitati grosolane.Totusi,m-am suit in tren la cererea viitorului.E oare un fapt atat de condamnabil sa vrei sa traiesti mai mult in prezent?

Pe mine ma apasa timpul rau de tot...Nici cu trecutul nu mi-e rusine- daca il uitam pe el,atunci le lasam cale libera monstrilor sa repete greseli de nerepetat.

Imi doresc...Imi doresc o memorie dulce,oameni mai buni,sa nu mai plang de cate ori aud melodia "Acasa" (damn it,Smiley!),un soare mai prietenos si un scop in viata.Nici n-am pretentii,nu-i asa?Sunt singura in seara asta si mi-e greu,atata tot.

Astazi este o zi speciala; poate ca asa sunt toate zilele,dar am uitat noi sa le simtim ca atare...

Can I live like this forever?

Why would I voluntarily leave this bed?Why would I ever?!
Dad's cooking wins all the awards in my eyes.
Though it appears Hell froze over and has now resurfaced, a small "business" trip becomes more than lovely with the right company.
I just have the silliest smile on my face sometimes...
Strangers giving you compliments are today's angels.
Buying stuff for others makes me happier than buying them for myself.
These cats and kittens of mine are just the funniest and fluffiest and most adorable beings on the face of the Earth.
How can a dog have such human eyes?
I'll never love another garden as much as I love mine,that of my childhood and bright memories.
Having dinner with my family in the kitchen (a proper one!) is probably the highlight of my week.
I am perfectly aware that I'm not doing anything college related right now and,honestly,I couldn't give a flying duck about it.
Milky coffee,playful furballs,cozy blanket,good TV shows,gorgeous music,personal and private room-have you ever heard of a more selfish Paradise?
Not to jinx it,but I think I'm actually happy right now.
If I can go another night without nightmares,then this is going to be one triumphant weekend...

Let's go home,train...

Somebody asked me why do I always go home for the weekend.The question made me want to both laugh and cry at the same time.

I don't know,maybe because I have mild panic attacks each time I arrive here?Maybe because it's hellishly hard to live confined in a particularly small space with a person that doesn't share your blood or personality?Or maybe because I don't have the slightest idea what I'm doing among cockroaches and pointless responsibilities,when all I want to do is be home with my family?

I think her first impulse was to tell me "Get a life!",but my eyes don't lie and they want out.

So,I'll carry around with me more stuff than it's comfortable.I'll beg of my teachers to let me leave 10 minutes early.I'll run to/in/within/out of the subway because the clock and the ticket aren't quite merciful.I'll spend 2 hours on a train that's as full of burlesque surprises as a circus."Why",you say?.For me.

For my sanity and my aching body and my hungry emotions.So I can shed the mask and be raw for a while.To really breathe for a couple of days in a bloody week.

I can't let go because I don't want to let go.Why should I?I may not know a lot of things,but I do know this:life's too short to give up on the people you love.

So yes,my home is my sanctuary and I get to pray every few days.

Colder winds

the colder winds have come to settle
and my limbs are numb like twigs
and hurt with purple

winter reminds me of blue and death
and how,by living,I'm only being drawn
nearer to the end

the lovers on my mind are ghosts
made up of haze and lust,
songs of a life built upon ashes

why are these streets so noisy?
why am I only bones and feelings?
why do I bleed...

if I cry,it's not a daughter of sadness,
but a healthy son of wrath
and perpetual organic consternation

I want to be a character in a book
with black covers and golden writing
and passions beyond hope

I'm shivering in my coat because
my flesh has forgotten how
human warmth can heal

my I.V. is constantly pumping
hopes and illusions I grow
at the back of my swollen brain

the colder winds have come to settle
and my being craves to surrender
in the hands of inertia

Fuzzy insides

Cateodata,ma apuca o dragoste imensa de toti si de toate si simt ca mi se taie respiratia gradat.In momente de acest fel,maruntaiele imi iau foc,mintea imi devine un camp electric,iar viata are brusc sens.Sa fie oare o revelatie organica?

Nu stiu,dar stiu ca atunci simt ca pot sa iubesc si ca iubesc din toate celulele si ca pot fi iubita,da,chiar eu pot fi iubita.Nu-mi explic aceste explozii de existenta concentrata decat prin faptul ca mi se metamorfozeaza intreaga tristete periodic si devine o fotografie in negativ...pozitiva.

Devin un cer inchis in piele si artificiile din mine ma gadila,ma fac sa rad,sunt mai mult decat un om:sunt toti oamenii din lume si,pentru cateva minute trecatoare,Dumnezeu e la fel de real ca insasi creatia sa.

Stiu,suna nebunesc intregul concept,insa nebunia nu exclude neaparat realitatea...

Astazi,imi scriam impersonal existenta la inca un curs,cand m-a apucat "nebunia" si ochii au vazut mai frumos haosul din jur.

Nu inteleg,nu vreau sa inteleg,vreau sa cred in ceva,in orice,numai sa gasesc un stalp,un stalp in tot oceanul din jur...

Nu mi-am uitat pastilele de dimineata,nu,nu:cafeaua a fost dulce si fierbinte,(aproape) mereu e asa.A fost si asta o experienta.

Cateodata,misterele acestei lumi ma dau peste cap,ma infasoara in lumina si ma saruta lung.

Skills and sentences

Am I my body or my brain?My given assets or my cultured skills?My fake charm or my raw bitterness?

Am I the child who believes or the woman who wants to forget?The smoldering fire or the foamy sea?The times I blindly obeyed or the ones when I painfully cut loose?

Am I the girl who stayed at home so many nights or the one who got infuriatingly stupid-drunk that one time?A learning mechanism or an actual "clever cookie"?A lost cause or a forming path?

Because I'm having trouble understanding myself and the way in which I think others perceive me.Yes,that was a coherent sentence,believe it or not!

I've sort of been following this mentality of "I'll hate myself first,before you get the chance to" and judging my own value based on how many (read "all") good grades I get and yes,I am such a fucking loser sometimes it's properly unreal.

I rarely believe or trust a compliment,especially when it's coming from a friend.I'm jealous of other people's success and I become ruthless when it comes to my own flaws,mistakes,limits.I oscillate between not caring and caring too damn much,to the point of mentally breaking.

I need to figure myself out somehow,be it with sentences or holes in a wall,but it's paramount that I finally find an answer.And soon...

All this anger...

...shouldn't be mine.It sounds foreign and brutish,yet it's building up from my core and it's rising,rising,rising to a point which I don't want to see culminating.

This is supposed to be a happy day and I should be home right now,yet I'm spending my finite existence among strangers and doing things that are far from making me smile.

My heart swells bitterly and my palms clench into fists and it all just doesn't seem like living anymore.Have I become so powerless that I must resort to violence in order to make myself feel less...doomed?Damned?Desperate?

I'm too young to be wishing for oblivion.Craving happiness has turned into more of a curse than a blessing the moment I took my first step out of childhood.

I understand,we're constantly living among others and we have to adapt ourselves,but we're talking about our only shot here,people!Why must I mold myself to a pattern?Just because it renders me completely numb?I don't want the sort of inertia which makes bread go stale,though I'm not keen on starting a revolution either.I only want to be left alone in my crafted sanctuary,with balanced passions and a soothing routine.

Why do we insist on making the most simple of things into smothering burdens?

I'm angry and I don't have any answers and I want to eat cake.

Family celebrations

My spine could kiss this mattress.
A lovely meal with lovely people is sickeningly lovely,as you can imagine.
Kitty,it's not like I need those college courses,so chew away!
Do you remember acting like a spoiled child,without actually being rude?Ah,sweet memories from 5 minutes ago...
The cold is settling in,but I've got my blanket and my cats,so I'm good.
Grandma's joy upon seeing me safe and sound at home is my joy as well.
I can't remember the last time I watered some plants.
Not even kings have had such feasts,I can assure you of that.
Surprising mom with a handful of books for her birthday (a day early) has left me with the memory of her shocked face and scolding kisses("Why didn't you show them to me on Friday?I could have read one by now!").
Should I read or should I take a nap after all this cake?Like it's even a question...
I can feel the little ones having a race with their soft paws behind my back and I can't help but smile.
Milky coffee,a comfy bed, "The Lone Ranger",mom next to me-I would like to celebrate like this every single day,please!
Tomorrow will most definitely be a rough day,but the future always exhausts me and I'd rather live for now now.
False studying and complaining over the phone-just like old times!
This has been a good day.

Long hours of nothingness

Sunt ore dulci si scurte in toata leneveala lor si nu te mai saturi de ele.Provoaca dependenta,la fel ca vata de zahar si saruturile.Si de ce le-ai parasi de bunavoie?

Sunt ore in care nectarul negru are mai multe mistere de dezvaluit,coconul trupului se incolaceste in sine,Universul se concentreaza intr-un singur minut scos din toate ceasurile lumii.Sunt ore languroase si senzuale,croite pe coapsa unei femei brune si pe apusul unei veri in care am cules amintirile ca pe poame.Sunt ore in care pisicile torc pufos in timp ce dorm pe calorifer,iar patul nu are niciun arc meschin sa-mi tulbure geografia oaselor.

Paradisul meu e rustic si lipsit de podoabe,suficient de ascuns incat sa nu fure ochii nimanui.In mod ironic,nu pacatele m-au facut sa cad in "Infern",ci dorinta de "mai bine".Poate aici s-a produs caderea:am tanjit dupa binele meu prin binele altora,o scapare psihologica de neiertat...

Sunt ore pe care nici nu-mi doresc sa le recastig cumva,secunde de miere lenta si minte impacata.Sunt ore in care orice cearta isi pierde fierea in virtutea a ceea ce ar putea fi in loc.Sunt ore pe care le iubesc din toata inima mea de "inca copil".

Sunt ore in care aparenta nimicului inseamna ceva mai mult decat "nimic".

An "old" young friend

Inca o dimineata,hai,mai trage putin...
Metroul miroase a aglomeratie-din nou.
M-am saturat sa-mi pierd ore din viata la ore care nu-mi plac deloc.
O sa ajung sa alerg dupa tren si in vis in curand!
Imbratisarea unei prietene bune este exact medicamentul de care ai nevoie la mijlocul unei zile epuizante.
Ne cunoastem si ne indragim de mai bine de 10 ani,iar asta se simte in povestile comune,in intimitatile impartasite,in modul similar in care ne inspaimanta viata in ultima vreme.
Gara albastra,tatic zambaret,succes garantat.
E tare bine acasa:sunt bombardata din toate directiile cu mancare buna,camera ma asteapta primitoare,pisoii mi se "gudura" pe la picioare,iar ai mei nu mai stiu cum sa ma rasfete.
Oare de ce e mai buna cafeaua de aici,oare de ce?Poate pentru ca e savurata cu drag,nu bauta din necesitate.
Asta a devenit o rutina confortabila de care nu vreau sa ma mai satur...
Imi explodeaza inima de un sentiment nedefinit si asa stiu ca pot sa respir linistita.
Pentru cateva zile,nu am decat responsabilitatea propriului abandon.
Bunica stie mereu cum sa ma faca sa rad.
Mi-e somn si n-as dormi,vreau sa mai trag putin de starea in care perfectiunea e simpla si viata devine frumoasa...
Bun si bine,bun si bine.

The things I go through...

Honest to God,is this who I am now?A stooping,tired,scared little piece of flesh?Seriously?!I'd say it's preposterous,but then I'd be kidding myself.I never was one to willingly admit I can't do or don't know something...

But reality is harsh and I must come to terms with the fact that I'm living in a world which demands some sort of "superhuman",while all I'm able to offer is a little more than a child.

It's frustrating to have to comply:"I don't want to be here,learning this or doing that!I'd rather be on the Moon or in my dreams or reading a book I'll never be able to write,jut not this!".You'd be surprised how much this thought has insisted on playing in my head on repeat for some time now...

To be honest,all the worrying about nonsense is merely lost energy and I realize that,but some sort of old fixation keeps dragging me into a spiral I so wish to break.

There must be a way of living your life without (occasionally) wanting to die...How do I look for it from behind a barricade of books?How do I remember to live for now when I'm constantly being pulled between the past and the future?

Maybe going home will clear my head a little.Because,at this moment,I feel like the things I go through aren't worth a single dime...

Silver or feathers?

Determining your self-worth is a process which more often leads to agony than an epiphany.In a world which thrives upon competition and rivalry,there's no room for the shy or the slow or the feeble.There's no room for me...

I keep trying to make myself understand that I shouldn't be thinking like this,but everything around me proves otherwise.Sometimes,we're more like hyenas than ourselves...

Should I weigh my importance in the world using beads of silver or baskets of feathers?They'd amount to the same quantity,I'm sure,yet the quality and external appreciation would most certainly differ:feathers are fleeting,silver sinks low...

I'm growing more and more tired of myself and the world around me,wishing I could just weave a cocoon around me and disappear for a few centuries.Or until the world stops shrinking.

On the one hand,I'd like to fight and assert myself and become somebody.On the other hand,my bones are hollower than a bird's,yet I still can't fly.Why does falling always win?Icarus should know better than me...

Lesson of the day:no matter how hard you try,you'll never be enough,and I don't know whether this scares or soothes me in some peculiar way.

One day,maybe I'll understand it all-but not today...

Coffee-stained hands

Jumping out of bed in the morning would be useful if not taken so seriously and literally by my damned mattress.
Preparing two coffees in the morning is oddly satisfying on a Tuesday.
Who would have thought English could be such a tedious language around the wrong people...Oh,the bittersweet irony of it all!
Cold steps,endless books,justified gossip-college is not what they portray in the movies,kids!
I'm awake and I'm still somewhat sane-that's all that matters right now.
Spending time with my friends is positively lovely,but this stubborn cold wind insists on turning a short walk into a freezing trial!
You never understand how much you depend on your body until you're utterly famished and exhausted.
My brain won't stop reading imaginary books in my sleep and my head just doesn't want to let go of a damned headache.
One day,I'll grow weary of my books and bloody burn them-oh,wait...
Strawberry tea to make the bitterness of these pills fade away.
No matter how tired I am,silly cat videos never fail to make me laugh.
Can I go home now,please?
I remember my peace of mind like it was never.
I have pictures to remind me of what I love and music to help me feel properly.
Oh,night-again?!

Freezing,reading

commitment is an anchor
made up of sugar
in the midst of a foamy ocean
that cannot put a rein
on its tide

my fingers grab within their nets
all the hidden meanings
of folded pages and spilled ink,
yet they cannot save themselves
from the thick tangle
of old covers

this room eerily resembles
the bottom of a dry ocean,
all blue in its cellulose misery
and snobbish furniture:
am I doomed to a life of perpetual
moldy truths?

my neck is a musical carcass
of every song that's ever been born
to haunt and churn and crawl
into cells,then make them
crave a more melodious
fall

this book is a castle,
my skin is a tapestry,
the sky is lost
behind the ceiling 

Rushed memories

I don't ever want to get up,I don't want to leave this bed,you can't make me.
If my body is happy,then I can try to be too.
I've given up on trying to accomplish anything around here when I understood that this is my time,not theirs.
A delicious cup of coffee to make time flow slowly and attract greedy kittens.
Why can't we all be happy like this everyday?
So much to do,so little motivation,oh so very dear music as background.
Lemon bathtub,dusty mirror,silver bed.
I don't think I'll ever run out of books to read and carry.
Sometimes,I feel so calm that I even scare myself.
No matter how rushed my memories might be,there are some that forever stand still: luminous meals in the kitchen,warm family smiles,the green hallway which allows my feet to wander throughout so many years gone by.
It's always hard to say "goodbye!",regardless of how many times I've done it before.
Sea foam ticket,blue train,violet skyline.
I can taste blood in my mouth-why do I taste blood in my mouth?
I'm utterly tired of seeing pretty boys that are as fleeting in my life and these weekends.
A long,dark trip into the night.
Luggage,why are you so heavy?
Room,roommate,too much room for college work.
Music is a drug not worth giving up.
I really want to change my faith,but I don't know where to begin.
My lack of willingness will certainly backfire soon.
Blink and it's already gone.

Stop,time!Halt!

Just this once,stop.Please.Let my lungs take in the scenery and my bones crash for a while.

You know how much I like it here and how much I depend on these couple of days to get me through the week.Yes,it's already winter and you're terribly busy,but understand that I've been basically thrown into this existence and I'm still finding my way through it.

Give me...well,give me yourself.Give me your lazy mornings and coffee-stained cups and warm smelling sheets.Give me a cold walk around town and a caring father and my favorite coconut filled sweets.Give me lazily spent days and smooth pumpkin and silly kittens.Give me a sinking afternoon and a creamy cup of oblivion and grandma's funny jokes.Give me a clear conscience and white orchids and a brother who's so endearing when he thinks he's being a smartypants.Give me musical entertainment and peaceful rooms and a mother-daughter relationship like the one we painted tonight.Give me tender exhaustion and careless dreams and great expectations.Give yourself to me like I am forced to give myself to you.

It's not easy being mortal,if you care to know.There's always so much anxiety and pressure to be and do everything that one sometimes fails.

So be kind.Kiss me gently on the cheek and promise me you'll slow down.Especially when I'm happy and unafraid to feel it wholeheartedly.

Covered in red

De ce epuizarea se ia mereu de mana cu insomnia?De ce?
Cafea neagra,pulover rosu,vreme albastra-sa incepem.
Aglomeratia infernala de la metrou e compensata de oamenii frumosi care imi incanta ochii pana la suras.
Rau mai e sa fii prost si timid,ma jur!
Din pacate,combinatia dintre frica mea de lift si multimea scarilor din doua facultati lipite este necastigatoare astazi.
Soarele bate,bate,dar nu razbate deloc.
Sala urata,materie prost organizata,chipuri mai mult decat plictisite- ti-e mai mare dragul!
In ritmul asta,drumul pana la gara o sa devina mai ceva ca un maraton.
"Maimutici" infometate si dragalase,ne intalnim din nou!
"The Hunger Games" e joaca de copii pe langa inghesuiala din trenul spre Targoviste.
Carte,casti,loc la geam-sunt pregatita.
Daca mi-ar putea imbutelia cineva fericirea de vineri dupa-amiaza,atunci s-ar rezolva multe probleme pe pamant.
Mi-e drag de pisici si mi-e drag de casa si mi-e drag de masa,nu ma mai lasati sa plec,va rog!
Asta e seara in care imi permit tot ce-mi refuz intreaga saptamana:seriale,leneveala,ganduri pasnice.
Ma inteleg bine cu toata lumea si toata lumea se intelege bine cu toata lumea-ptiu,sa nu deochi!
Mi se scurge oboseala din oase,dar aici e dulce si merita.
Cred ca rosul e culoarea mea.

Domestic tragedy

It's so hard not to be lazy in the morning here.
Coffee and studying-not my favorite combination,but it will have to do.
Honestly,I think I'm 90% made out of music.
This room is so small and angular that even the most mendable of domestic tragedies echoes in painful sighs.
My body is evil and my mind is trying too hard to be nice.
I can't afford to fall in love every single time I go on the subway-even if we're talking about a tall,dark and gorgeous stranger sent by the gods to make my knees go weak and my mind to silently weep.
If I were to sum up my entire academic joy,it would go under the label "English literature seminar".
Nodding and wearing glasses are just two of the things which trick teachers into believing you actually know what you're doing with your life.
"I would walk 500 miles/And I would walk 500 more/Just to get my little ticket/And walk out of this train station."
The mere thought of lemon-anything makes my mouth cringe,yet that doesn't seem to stop me from eating it in unhealthy quantities.
Fighting the urge to sleep in order to finish another book is a skill worth putting in my CV now.
You could cut the tension in the room with a knife and that's just the saddest thing ever.
I'm packing my bags and,for once,hoping that time would go faster.
Springy bed and wishful prayers-another day gone by...

A spiral within

"falling is just like flying..."

the sheets are pushing me out of bed

and into the arms of a dead book

that comes alive beneath my glassy eyes

and into hands which smell of coffee perfume

no matter how much I conquer,

earth still sprouts from within and leaps

to lengths I cannot encompass without the price

of weary blood and sacrifice

these days are raw like apple seeds

being crunched between the teeth

of endless steel days and twisted nights

that bear children of disfigured fright

the moments when I feel like caving in

are those when clocks are stapled onto my eyelids

and my limbs become useless stems

that cannot blossom into eternity

a spiral within my skull digs into dust

and torments rust because nobody told me

that I should love myself too,

that I should always yell the smothering truth

I can feel trees growing green within

my skeleton and crowded voices

pushing through the abyss of the night-

I'm alive,I can breathe,I see

"...except there's a more permanent destination"

Back of the skull

oamenii sunt ca trandafirii pentru ca
doar o comparatie banala mai poate salva
durerea ce inunda fiecare colt din craniul
pe care il port ca un spin rosu pe umeri

pitici cu ciocanele se cocoata zi de zi
pe vertebre,cautand bobocul moale
unde sa foreze dupa amintiri funebre
si ticaituri de ceas ramas fara baterie

mina asta n-are aur,doar invizibila
fiere care ar putea sa hraneasca
pe o perioada nelimitata un batalion
de pacate nedeslusite si neinfaptuite

mormaie timpul si scartaie oasele
pe fundalul unei voci smaltuite,
dovada vie si sufocanta a faptului ca
inteligenta este pe aici facultativa

ma doare,ma doare,ma doare
ca o rana lipita cu sare de mare,
ca o buba care nu se mai sparge,
ca amintirea vietii ce va sa vie

mi se pravaleste cerul peste umeri
si incearca sa ma inunde prin urechi,
impingand Paradisul cu forta
intr-o cutie alba care tot spune "nu"

lasa-ma,m-am saturat de trandafiri
si de pitici si de ore fara sens pur

Hidden lace

Everything I hold dear I feel must be kept hidden.

Whether we're talking about a pair of old earrings or a precious memory,it seems like the shadows act like a protective cocoon.I even keep my femininity to myself,for fear of it not being tainted by the world outside.I'll keep my lace close to the skin and my desires sealed with a coy smile,that's the only way I know how to be.

What will become of me?What if nobody will ever take the time to search for me beneath so many layers of nothingness?Will I be enough for myself?Most certainly not.But it doesn't matter.I know it doesn't matter,I'm just being silly.I'm acting like this was all a movie,not real life...

When I was little,I hid a pack of gummy bears in the closet because I didn't want to eat them.This diary,though made public by choice,is often shadowed by books or papers of all sorts,as not to reveal itself to particular eyes.My thoughts,my lusts,my handful of aspirations,everything I am at core and everything I value about myself,everything must be kept hidden.I can't risk making a parade out of something that has a lock and key inside this heart of mine.

Am I losing some part of the world by acting this way?Most definitely.Do I care?Not so much,no.

For now,I'll just stick to my lace and everlasting inner monologue and the smothered hope that,some day,the shell will crumble...for good.

Mean daughter

I sometimes don't get along with my mother that well.What a shocker,right?I don't want it to be this way,but my nerves just crack under the weight of so many petty things that I can take it no more.

She cares about me,I'm certain of that,but she doesn't always know how to show it.Neither do I,for that matter.But,when I can't say something nice,I don't say anything at all.Which isn't her constant way of acting...

I can be very mean if I want to.Downright bitchy,to be fair.And it seems I have to act like this from time to time so that people understand I'm a person,not a doormat.

Why am I always the one that's exaggerating?Why can't she be on my side for once?Why do we always argue about money?Why is she allowed to scream and I'm not?Why do we get along better on the fucking phone than face to face?I swear to God...

There are days when I just want to sleep and forget everything.Thinking makes it worse,that's the general rule.

I've become mean and I plan on staying so until she understands.Until you understand.I can't keep on forgiving everybody but myself,I simply cannot.

I didn't say "goodbye".I didn't talk.I didn't say "thank you".It's more toxic than poison and it actually hurts,but it must be done.

It's better than a message in blood.

Take a break

My spine is grateful for a bed that doesn't crack and moan each time I twist and turn.
Waking up to a nice breakfast and milky coffee is definitely worth the ride.
That brief moment of panic when you think about your daily chores,only to realize in relief that you have none.
A warm blanket,two fluffy kittens,three souls that right now haven't got a care in the world.
I watch scary TV shows in the middle of the day because I'm badass like that.
Being here makes me put things into perspective and conclude that I'm bound together solely by memories and raw dirt.
This might be the only meal of the week I actually enjoy.
I'm reading and I'm learning and I want this moment to forever freeze in time.
You can sometimes be so mean,but guess what?So can I.It hurts like Hell,but so can I.
Music has become both my steady rock and my ocean to drown in when needed.
I never understood the pleasure of wandering from room to room until recently.
Routine can be such a blessed thing!
To loathe or to love apples?
Seeing people have a genuine purpose in life gives me a small spark of hope.
Laughing with dad is the best medicine in the world.
When I can't fight anymore,I smile and walk away.
One more episode,I promise!
I feel drowsy and a pleasant ache is seeping into my bones.
Let's call it a day...

One small spark

"What a good day!"-that's what I've been tempted to say all afternoon,but even then I knew how the mere thought of this could make it backfire immensely.And it did.Oh,how it did...

My bucketful of happiness,scraped and scratched from here and there,is inevitably gathered in retrospective,otherwise it becomes jinxed.That's sad,I think,to be happy only using the past tense...

I played my part,I "earned my stripes",I begged my bursting temples to hold on for just one more day.I got on a train,I welcomed my home,I settled in for a night of unconstrained comfort.I found old demons,I got into a war,I bled my love and lost it.

It's heartbreaking to realize that the people you care about the most don't care about you equally.Or,at least,they don't know how to show it.Or are so swallowed up by the cruel world around them that they're too afraid to unshackle their souls.It's a real pang in the chest,closer to death than to grief.And,no matter how much I cry,the bitterness won't stop chewing on my organs and soul.

Life's absurd.My life is absurd.I'm merely counting time until the end,clinging to ghosts I've crafted instead of flawed people,wishing it would stop so I wouldn't have to.

Yes,it's been a good day in more ways than one.But all it took was one small spark to make it all burn,turn ablaze,smother everything.

I'm choking on ashes.

I'm laughing

I'm laughing at my alarm clock,at my scattered pictures,at my weeping spine.
I'm laughing because,through some misguided order of the Universe,I'm still waking up.
I'm laughing into my coffee,a bitter and numb pretext for yet another day.
I'm laughing for strangers who will never tell me I'm pretty or introduce me to their mothers or make me believe I'm something more than dust.
I'm laughing while gathering gifts in exchange for affection,like a puppy begging to be loved by somebody.
I'm laughing at my own endless and shameless stupidity.
I'm laughing for the illusions I've created in order to keep myself mildly sane.
I'm laughing at fleeting moments amidst friends,moments which momentarily heal and erase the pointlessness of everything.
I'm laughing because we all have such dirty minds and minty mouths.
I'm laughing in the hallway,into the phone,gazing at a bluish hand.
I'm laughing while walking into the train station,God knows why.
I'm laughing while eating and mending my half-broken day.
I'm laughing because I'll never know what real love feels like.
I'm laughing while packing this and that.
I'm laughing at my crippling shyness.
I'm laughing because I don't know what else to do.

Bursting temples

sometimes,I feel like I need to hold
my head together with my hands,
so that it doesn't painfully blossom
into a crimson lotus flower

my life is a sacrifice I lay at the feet
of those who bear the blood of my destiny,
yet the gods aren't pleased with this
vapid mockery and punish me

and punished I am,in silent glory:
blood bursts,skin knowingly contorts,
temples drum the march of insanity-
my being rebels against me

am I to die?today or tomorrow or
at the end of a road I never chose
and,given the choice,never would follow?
selfish fear,seeping into my every bone and crevice...

it's embarrassing,this flushing wave
of backing steps in front of a desired
outcome of truly closed eyelids-
my head,my skull,my flaming brain!

a systematic lie that builds
an empire out of a divine cell,
only to let it rust and rot when faced
with the inevitable outcome of the end

sometimes,I feel like I need to hold
my body together with a pagan prayer,
so that it doesn't permanently end
with a red-stained feather

Nighttime gore

it won't stop,it just won't stop,
all the oozing fear,all the darkness
fracturing my mental skeleton,
all the gore that fuels my nightmares

my sleep is plagued
by flaunting pustules and seeping wounds
that display an array
of blood-red meat and daylight cringing

I see myself as if in a mirror,
doused in fluorescent lighting that's dripping
over stripped bare skin,
as real as this moment we're sharing

a moment's flash,then I decompose
into a burlesque picture of all
the vile fluids you could conjure
while drunk on poison ivy juice

morning unfolds,sheets are covered,
vision ignites above closed eyes-
if reality reveals this to be a phantasm,
then why are my hands shaking like shackles?

a decaying aftertaste follows
my footsteps and spoils my hours
and degrades my mental sandcastle
through vapid words that make no sense

sleep,once my sole escape,
has now become a dying cage

Human piñata

Everybody wants something from everybody.That's why we're never content,never comfortable in a moment in time.

Today was a most ordinary day in a most ordinary existence.Yet I felt like I was being constantly pushed from one responsibility to another,never finishing what I've started and never quite drawing a new beginning.

It's always hectic when I have to go from here to there,but I sometimes feel people are taking advantage of my "kindness" more than I could ever sustain.Add to that a cluster of thorny questions about everything and a mind that's adrift most of the time and you'll get the human piñata I'm embodying right now.

I think there's been a mistake at some universal level: I never asked for any of this.You should have left me be a speck of dust...

My happiness depends on so little,yet it can be taken away with a single strike."Myself" means nothing,but others seem to value it,so I must too.I wish to find answers,but I'm afraid to run after them.I open my eyes to the future and see a full week,void tasks and pages that will someday leave me blind.

Maybe I'd gather the courage to change my faith if I knew what to change it for.Maybe Monday night isn't the best time for philosophical questions...
It hurts before it has happened.

Of all sorts

Silent night.Twisted sheets.Lavish breakfast.Violent body.Bedside coffee.Blanket reading.Squirmy kittens.Cold socks.Old stories.Dirty glasses.Noisy surroundings.Confusing letters.Racing heart.Favorite song.Plummeting interest.Pretty people.Pointless deadlines.Cringe-worthy perspectives.Comforting space.Forgotten phone call. Blue flowers.Shy sunshine.Fruitless trip.Stupid TV shows.Nice meal.Chocolate delight.Good family vibes.Silly "homework".Soothing melodies.Autumn questions.Brotherly nudging.Right spot.Lots of pages."Screw it!".Fort building.Cozy cocoon."The Nightmare Before Christmas".Impromptu karaoke.Childish joy.Scary memories.Warm furballs.Distant worries.Late pampering.Cooling surrender.Jelly toes.Foreign ambitions.Illogical translation.Paper chewing cats.Corner of the bed.Salty teeth.Bleeding finger.Fleeting movie.Green orchid.Baby voice.Scattered papers.Friendly alarm clock.Book plans.Musical obsession.Late dreams.Expecting luggage.Forgotten black poison.A drop of panic.Warm palms.Grandma's words.Japanese fan on the wall.Tired little ones.Tingling self.Crumpled sheets.Pinkish pillow.Smiling prayers.Good night.

Today,it doesn't matter

Today,it doesn't matter how many pages I read or what I learn to be above the cut or even how much I please others.Today,I'm selfish and focused on healing my unseen wounds.Today,I'm dedicated to drinking coffee and watching TV and generally not giving a single fudge.

I won't allow myself to feel guilty or have second thoughts about it all.No,I'm fed up with this life,I do need an occasional break from myself,full stop and start again.What for,anyway?

No,rest assured,we're not opening that vault again,not a chance.And it's nice,you know.Taking each moment as it comes,not clinging to it,not mourning its loss before its practical birth.

I got to actually taste my food and actually see what's in front of me on the screen and actually talk to the people around me.Why breed sorrow when I know that,at heart,I'm silly and sometimes hopeful?

The environment helps,too.Maybe it's too ingrained in my being to ever leave behind.Fingers crossed...

Anyway,it worked out beautifully,though selfishness tends to make me a bit bitchy.Yeah,sorry about that...I'm only human.I can both curse and bless.

Today,I was blessed.Today,I smiled.Today,I am.I'm willing to lose today in order to gain it.

Busy roads and heavy hands

Arcuri galagioase,un fluture de noapte foarte ratacit,griji cel putin nejustificate-"buna dimineata!".
Cea mai buna dieta de slabit se numeste "facultate" and 10/10 would not recommend.
Mi-e frica de responsabilitati ca de cel de-al Treilea Razboi Mondial.
De ce se incapataneaza lumea sa ma convinga de faptul ca eu contez,desi stiu adevarul a fi exact pe dos?
Poezia poate fi dulce ca o cafea buna si dureroasa ca o rana veche.
Nu-mi place metroul,dar ii sunt recunoscatoare pentru toate drumurile care (eventual) ma aduc acasa.
Daca vreau si stiu ca merita,pot sa fiu foarte eficienta.
Cu un bagaj plin de carti,gara nu mai pare atat de neprimitoare.
Drum greu,"maimutici" galagioase si dragalase,melodii de suflet plin cu dor.
Masina bleumarin din gara este farul meu din timpul furtunii.
"Papoy"(pisoi) care cresc intr-o saptamana cat altii in zece,n-am vazut asa ceva!
Mancare buna,cafea buna,companie buna-ce sa mai vrei,domnule,ce sa mai vrei?!
Vineri seara este momentul meu preferat al saptamanii pentru ca atunci imi recuperez toate serialele si nu-mi mai sunt cel mai inversunat judecator.
Moleseala se amesteca cu epuizarea si patul imi pare un cuib de pasari exotice.
Multumirile pentru ziua de azi sunt cat se poate de sincere.

Sizzling silence

This is hard to do,so bear with me.Bear with me because I am so fucking angry I could actually explode right here,right now into tiny bits of bitter nothingness.Why am I the way I am?God,God,God...

Touch me with the tip of your finger and I'll go for your throat like a mountain lion...metaphorically.
Everything is very frustrating.From doors that are being slammed all around me to the masks I change in order to please everybody.Since when did I actually agree to kill myself with kindness?

The small islands of peace and tranquility I find in each day stand no chance in front of the catastrophic typhoon that lies even in the smallest of gestures.

I'm angry for no particular reason and that makes me angry at my own anger.Why does my body swell with violence each time something doesn't agree with me?Are all my years of discipline fancy ashes when faced with a raw,beastly urge to see blood?Is my egocentricity getting out of hand?

Maybe I'm having a bad week.Out of a crappy month.Out of a pointless existence.

I really,really,really want to punch a wall right now,but I need my hand to write my inner turmoil instead of materializing it.

I don't thing my going to college is going to make any difference at all.I don't think the love I give is equal to the love I receive.I don't think my life has a meaning and this scares me sometimes.Yet something else is troubling me,some eluding shadow that won't reveal its face or name.

Meanwhile,I could pick a fight with a bull and not mind it.The worst part is that I have to keep this "unidentified" monster in a calm cage,all bottled up and ready to show its claws.

I'm not home,where I could cry without feeling judged or pitied,where I could find the kind words I so badly need,where the world seems safer and smaller.No.

I'm in an improvised "home",drowning in books and in shadowed sentiments.Though I know my Paradise is flawed,I'd rather be there than here.And I'm still fucking angry!

It's tiresome,to be honest.So much mental swearing and two fists constantly clenched-this isn't me.Or,at least,I hope this hasn't become me.If only oblivion came somehow...

I can't go back to thinking all those awful thoughts about myself and others because it wouldn't be fair.Or healthy.Or sane.I never knew inner violence could physically hurt...

Morbid scenarios are creeping before my eyes,so I'd better find relief inside a bed before I seek it in darker projections.

I pray for peace and purpose.

What now?

Words have been said,faces unwritten,books acquired and stories hastily put together.What now?

I think I might have forgotten how to be a friend,let alone a "good" one.I'm ridiculously tired and antisocial and pouring my soul into a cause I don't believe in.I'm a living and breathing paradox.I'm in hate with myself and the mere thought of somebody (other than my family) genuinely caring for me brings this being in front of you to salty tears and shaking limbs.

As peculiar as it may seem,I have temporarily misplaced my "how to human" handbook.So,how do I interact with my friends now?

A deeply uninteresting life doesn't help and all those stated above aren't what I would call "golden stars" on the scale of interpersonal relationships.

My awkwardness has surely been taken as irritation,I can feel it in my crawling skin.Upsetting anyone is the very last thing on my list,but there are some situations even I can't fake myself out of.

For my sake and that of others,I should just go live in a cave and be done with it all...

I'm sorry,I'm sorry,I'm sorry.Towards you,towards myself,towards everything.What a day,God,what a day!

I'm surprised I can stand myself,to be honest.Well,I kind of don't,but that's another heartache altogether.

I screwed up without actually screwing up.What now?

Purple brand

my flesh is ordinary,though my mental
skeleton is adorned with scales and poisons
the surface of a mirror I so loathe
to face in a fluorescent corner

locked up fat,contained meat,
branded breasts that bear
purple bruises beneath lace and gilded wires
of curved dictatorship

a "modern armor",that's what it should be called-
it keeps you safe from greedy eyes
and black eyes and brutal eyes
and all the eyes that harm,including yours

if my soul is a sheet,then it's caught
between a wall of decaying constrictions
and a mental road with blurred origins,
with twisted seams,heading towards an abyss

I can't,though I must and I would
if I could,but these wounds are concealed
and at times I believe I'm alone in seeing
the spreading disease and open lungs

no tears to shed for this silent violence,
no clothes to spare for a bonfire of release
in the middle of nowhere,
no pinkish indents to call "sweet dreams"

we all wear the mark of our time
and mine is an almost voluntary
act of torture

Crimson nausea

Sleepless night.Cold morning.Coffee perfume.Forehead kisses.Crimson uniform.Numb clocks.Loving cats.Stalled goodbyes.Endless road.Meaningful difference.Rising nausea.Trademark arrival.Tainted nostalgia.Heavy bag.Worn out words.White ticket.Window seat.Recent stories.Familiar sights.Hurricane thoughts.Crowded subway.Gray view.Smothering room.Heated unpacking.Forced breakfast.Lost minutes.Cute boys.Flavorless college.Closing eyes.Confusing pages.Pointless questions.Old flame.Corner seat.Reassuring knowledge.Tired bones.Powerless stare.Scattered sheets.Musical plastic.Irrelevant silence.Poignant longing.Silly sentences.Crappy feelings.Piling chores.Vivid fantasies.Bad bed.Soothing voice.Smoky eyelids.Scarred skin.Beautiful strangers.Claustrophobic hall.Nasty springs.Short phone call.Impetuous eyes.Unsaid problems.Busy bugs.Written soul.Unbelievable friends.Blank heart.Loose clothes.Red curls.Branded pages.Seeping curiosity.Not so endless possibilities.Unanswered questions.Lost youth.Purposeless life.Clean room.Crackling back.Future preparations.Darling memories.Colorful images.Sweet hands.Wishful prayers.

Bless the Sunday sun!

Ce faci cand ai o ora in plus duminica dimineata?O dormi,desigur!
Micul-dejun fara o cafea "inalta" e pierdut din start.
Sunt dependenta de muzica si o recunosc prin toate bataile ritmate ale inimii.
Chiar daca imi las toate responsabilitatile pentru ultima clipa,tot nu-mi pare rau.
Nu credeam ca soarele de octombrie va mai fi atat de generos cu noi.
Ia-mi orasul sufocant si da-mi un colt de lume linistit,in care nu se intampla nimic si unde pot sa respir zambind.
Asa suntem noi: ne ciondanim,glumim aiurea,dar ramanem o familie pe care n-as lasa-o pentru tot Universul din aur.
La cat de bine gateste mama,cred ca ar trebui sa raman mai des duminica seara acasa.
Amorteala de cupru a toamnei imi da un ciudat sentiment de liniste si speranta in suflet.
Eu,frate-miu,"Despicable Me 2",o mare de paturi si perne- da,n-am uitat sa ma bucur de "micile minuni" ale vietii.
Ar trebui sa ma cam panichez pe la ora asta,dar berea impartita cu mama nu prea e de acord cu "drumul framantarii",asa ca lasam grijile pentru o alta data.
Nu-mi place sa plec,nu mi-a placut niciodata,mai ales cand nu stiu pentru ce o fac.Dar pentru cine...stiu.
Casti noi,muzica "veche",camera mea-nu s-a schimbat nimic.Si asta e bine...

My "do nothing" day

I can sense a pattern settling in,but I couldn't care less.Basically,this is my thought process during the weekend: Friday-"I am lazy piece of exhaustion and I will do nothing."; Saturday-"I should get started on things,but this is sorta like Friday.2,so...no."; Sunday-"Freaking out,I am freaking out,ohgodohgodohgod."Yes,if you're looking for a balanced and hardworking person,I'm your girl!...That's it,that's the punchline.

Anyway,I know this is how it's always going to be,no matter how much I bargain or compromise with myself.I'm only human,you know.After a week of "must do everything,must strive to exceed",I'm reduced to a very apathetic "bleah" and my energy level is at an all time low.And my state of mind?Let's not even try to enter that labyrinth.

I now realize this all looks like a sad attempt to justify myself,though I should have understood by now that I really don't owe anybody anything.Steer away from the labyrinth,don't even consider the option...

All things aside,this has been an extremely lovely day,adorned with pleasant sunshine,creamy coffee,fine entertainment and fluffy cats,so I'm a far cry from complaining.I've drawn a curtain over the storm and now I'm snuggling in the middle of a blanket-filled bed.

Yes,Saturday is officially my "do nothing" day and there's nothing you or I can do about it.

All the (?) reasons

I don't know,man,we're just so damn...evil.I mean,it's like we're constantly elbowing and pinching each other for a little more space and a chance to move ahead in an imaginary line.Has the world gotten smaller without my knowing?Because it sure feels like it.

I'm not like that.At least,I'd like to think that I'm not.One of these days,I'm going to get trampled to bits by a thousand little feet and my lack of revolt towards that image concerns me.

I'm not one to push people aside or try to prove I'm better because I know the truth to be otherwise.I lack spirit,one might say.

Being at home makes me realize even more how much my life philosophy will eventually backfire.The present is never stable and that's a mighty shame.But I don't care now.

I'm in a blissful "Friday night" mood that includes warm coffee,fantastic kittens and the most welcomed comfort of my own bed.That's enough to make me temporarily forget.Forgive...hardly.I can't forgive my race for not living up to its name nor can I forgive myself for becoming somebody I'd pity.So,you see,life is still awfully complicated.

Even so,it's quiet and peaceful tonight,so I can allow myself to dream "at full speed".I only pray that I never hurt others as much as others have hurt me...

I wish I could make this planet bigger.

Painful eyes

tonight,my eyes are voodoo puppets
rolling inside a dimming
skull

my glassy sense has failed me
and now my only lens
is my soul

what a drag!
what a stab!
what a loss!

my body has become a mirror
that reflects through distorted aches
all those ghosts

"sleeping" rhymes with "dread"
and nights come dressed
in shivers

these words pushed into my hands-
oh,what rabid ants!
what a punishment!

tears refuse to rain,though my heart
is an overflowing well in the middle
of a hurried scenery

I can't think with my body
because that would mean poisoning
the bud within

"resentment" is my middle name
and I can't undo what has been
mentally sealed

"My God,do I cry..."

I think I might have to see a psychologist soon.I'm slowly drowning in questions and answers which multiply at a rate beyond my comfortable control.The cold war inside my head is heating up and,ironically,I'm an ally to both parties.
Tonight,a dear friend made me cry.No,we didn't quarrel-she had the best of intentions,but that doesn't mean they necessarily stirred the same thoughts in me.
Right now,I feel like all my emotions have turned into stale vegetables.God,it's so hard to explain!I wish I knew more words...
How do you react when somebody tells you that you matter and that statement hits you like a ton of bricks?How do you go from "dead weight" to actual "being"?How do you cope with the realization that all your thoughts of altruism are pure and utter bullshit and that you only help others because you're practically begging for a morsel of love each time you breathe?How do you fucking deal with the fact that by sacrificing yourself to save others you only end up hurting them?And how do you make sense out of all of this?
Can you hear me breaking apart?'Cause I can.I can hear the shackles inside my body rattling like bells and all the logic draining from my existence with every passing moment.I'm a bad person,but I don't have the strength to become a good one.
I need sleep now...

Drained

Au revenit noptile cand somnul ma sperie si ma oboseste.
Momentele rare de feminitate in care ideea de "fusta" ma atrage nu sunt si cele mai practice din lume.
Metroul seamana cu un sarpe infinit si infuriat.
Ma jur,exista oameni atat de prosti si enervanti pe lume ca ma mir deschis cum inca se mai suporta!
N-am timp nici sa mor,insa se pare ca am timp de pierdut.
As vrea ca oboseala trupului sa nu-mi mai impiedice entuziasmul mintii.
Singurul loc in care ma simt la fel de bine ca acasa este un anticariat.
...si tot nu pot sa inteleg de ce oamenii ma plac.
Desigur,aruncati asupra mea si mai multe responsabilitati,doar nu-mi ajung facultatea in sine si viata!
Poate o sa ma paraseasca odata greata asta eterna si o sa ma pot bucura in sfarsit de o masa decenta...
Telefonul dat sau primit seara ma face sa suport atatea chestii ce-mi alimenteaza plansul intern.
Chiar daca salteaua e adusa din Iadul coloanelor vertebrale,tot trage la somn.
Inconjurata de carti si de foi manjite cu negru,inteleg faptul ca mi-am sigilat singura soarta.
Desi fericirea poate fi insumata intr-o cafea si o melodie buna,astazi n-au fost de ajuns.
Nu m-ar deranja ca zilele epuizante sa se reduca la minim cumva.

Blissfully incompetent

When I realize how utterly incomplete and incompetent I am,I can't help but smile.

I mean,I always try so hard to do everything right and I always end up as this blurred picture that can't quite encompass all there is to.At some point or another,it becomes frustrating beyond the point of real tears.

Worst part?The ones I love and who love me back live with this fantasy that I'm so goddamn perfect...I can't and I know I won't live up to that.Still,the facade doesn't break and I keep molding this enormous lie over and over and over again.

I'm way past personal sorrow and existential grief-yes,I'm blissfully embracing the fact that "life sucks and then you die".
Except that I'm actually constantly freaking out about anything and everything-but it's much more easier to hide it all behind a cheerful expression,don't you reckon?
This is all a really weird time for me,like I've suddenly forgotten how to add up two and two.My next steps are a mixture of uncertainty and fear,my brain is a cabbage field and my hope is nothing but a four letter word.This is getting too repetitive and too silly too quickly.
And I know I shouldn't be the first to kick myself in the backside,but I can't help it.It doesn't matter,though-others are also standing in line,consciously or not.
Well,I guess I'm stuck with my dumb smile now.

Lost day

Sunt zile cand te trezesti epuizat.
Sunt zile cand te apuca frica existentiala inainte de micul-dejun.
Sunt zile cand ai vrea sa te scufunzi in propriul pat.
Sunt zile cand vrei sa fii Superwoman,chiar daca asta nu e posibil.
Sunt zile cand o gura de cafea e ca o rugaciune dulce.
Sunt zile cand renunti cu un zambet amar pe buze.
Sunt zile cand ceasul iti mananca pasii inainte ca tu sa-i faci.
Sunt zile cand n-ai vrea sa te vada nimeni ca plangi.
Sunt zile cand cartile nu se mai termina si cerneala iti pateaza ochii.
Sunt zile cand a fi "om" e o sarcina mult prea grea.
Sunt zile cand mai bine taci.
Sunt zile cand minti de dragul altora.
Sunt zile cand trenul te sufoca si galagia oboseste sufletul.
Sunt zile cand baietii sunt doar niste nenorociti.
Sunt zile cand ai nevoie de un prieten bun langa tine.
Sunt zile cand inteleg de ce m-am nascut sub zodia Varsatorului.
Sunt zile cand te simti al naibii de singura.
Sunt zile cand as vrea sa fiu altcineva.
Sunt zile cand ma rog sa am timp sa ascult toata muzica din lume.
Sunt zile cand nu-mi simt mainile.
Sunt zile cand pun la indoiala totul.
Sunt zile cand cand mi-e dor de copilarie.
Sunt zile cand mi-e strain somnul.
Sunt zile cand timpul pare pierdut cu totul.

Salty pillowcase

Do you ever feel like there is an elephant perched on top of your chest?Like your lungs have developed a consciousness all too stubborn to cooperate?Like you don't quite know the exact definition of a panic attack,but you're fairly certain you're experiencing one as you speak?Yeah,I thought so...

It's extremely frustrating to have a good day and then have it blown to pieces by a creeping emotion with hard edges.That's why I can't ever enjoy the present: because I'm too involved in the future to even notice it.

Why can't I live today just for the sake of today?Relax,unwind,say "To Hell with it!"and put things into perspective?

"Stupid" seems too harsh-I have my reasons,though-but no other word comes into mind first.

If I could see myself through another's eyes for only a moment,maybe then I'd consider things differently.Until that happens,I'll have to settle for a salty pillowcase and an atomic bomb heart.

Usually,times like this teach people how to become bigger and better.Me?I'm stuck.That's it,I'm stuck in the middle of a piece of nothingness I created for myself the moment I asked my first question:"Why?".

How do others do it?Is it in their blood or are they merely better at holding up a facade?I wish I knew their secret.

Right now,I'm holding on to every shred of reality in order to carry on.

Sunny road

Ultima alarma enervanta pe saptamana asta-ultima!
Promit ca diseara o sa beau cafeaua de drag,nu din pura necesitate!
E tare greu sa recunosti ca nu esti bun la ceva anume,mai ales cand toti traiesc cu impresia ca esti bun la toate.
Uitasem cat de obositoare poate sa fie sala de lectura.
Refuz sa cred ca traiesc intr-o societate in care singurele opinii valoroase sunt cele exprimate-totusi,traiesc in aceasta societate.
"I feel something so wrong doing the right thing."
Minutele trec,eu alerg dupa timp,iar ceasul ma inghite si pe mine.
Unul din cele mai frumoase momente ale saptamanii este cel in care privesc apusul in drum spre casa-atunci simt ca exista un rost al lumii si ca am voie sa zambesc.
Dupa o zi tare obositoare,cina servita la locul meu obisnuit din bucatarie este ca un balsam vindecator.
Cate se pot strange de vorbit in atat de putin timp!
Mi s-au suit pisoii pe umeri si cafeaua tace calda pe masa- da,mi-e bine,mi-e foarte bine!
Aici simt ca apartin,aici este tot ce conteaza,aici sunt cu adevarat libera.
Pana si serialele se vad mai bine dintr-un pat cunoscut!
Dintre toate concluziile zilei de astazi,una singura se contureaza ferm:daca ascult ce-mi spune inima,atunci ascult bine.