Afraid

I'm always afraid: of having nightmares,of waking up to this,of crossing the street...I'm afraid of the people I meet,of the way I'm seen as,of not being enough.Hell,I'm even afraid of myself!It's just a crippling feeling that grabs a hold of you and never lets go.A true parasite,one might say.

Today was one of those days,when I could just sense that second shadow gripping tighter and screaming louder.

I'm tired.I'm tired of this suffocating smoke,of this burning and choking classroom,of being the wounded bitch that I've become.I'm tired of running,of wasting my life in this goddamn train,of slowly dying with no intent of living whatsoever.But,most of all,I'm tired of being right about the bad things.

This cement is cold and my hand comforts what my mind has yet to process.

I'm done.I'm done with believing,with hoping,with trusting.I'm done.

Never wake me up

...and all these people,and all these words,
they make me want to spit on everything I once
cherished with a curled up soul.

I'm mean in my grief,blind
to their unknowing,
but far from piteous and willing
to parade my black cloth
around.

I long to sleep and never wake up,
to turn sound into silence,
to coat my stinging memories with another layer
of erasing time...

I was always nobody-
now,I'm nobody minus one.

I'm selfish and I'm angry and I just want
to go home...

...and I'm sorry for these people,and I'm sorry for these words,
but pain is like a poison
that never truly works...

Dreadful

I wake up.I remember.I wish I didn't,bury my face in the pillow,pray to a God I've long ago decided wasn't real.I eat between flashbacks of memories that I hadn't witnessed,but imagined in a thousand gruesome ways.I snarl at every attempt of comfort like a wounded beast.I beg for mercy from myself,but I'm a cruel judge in my own right.I do what has to be done,though nothing seems worthy anymore.I play the same scenario in my head until it becomes a surreal film about another world.I choke on my coffee and crave for a lobotomy.I talk as little as possible because it hurts and I'm hurt and I'm tired of hurting everyone.I utter another dreadful "goodbye" and smother the thoughts that come afterwards.I curse this summer heat for the first time in my life,wholeheartedly.I wish nature would be on my side today,just today...I learn that I'm not a good actor after all,that I can't even begin to mimic "normalcy" when mostly needed.I come up with excuses,paint an ugly smile on my face and force my lungs to breathe.I use words to numb the images racing at the back of my eyes and to disguise my misery.I walk towards my fears like I've done a thousand times before.I greet and I'm greeted.I tell my story and close that door.I count the hours before I can be alone again.I write shallow words for people I'd rather not meet.I feel the silence taking over us and let it do so.I catch up on things I once enjoyed without a second thought.I question my sanity,then realize there's nothing more to question.I feel that orange churning inside my stomach.I promise myself sleep will make everything better.I conclude that I'm a bad liar.I give up on myself.

Filling the void

I don't cope well with loss.
Well,I don't cope at all,actually.It doesn't seem real and I don't want it to.I'd rather convince myself that it's a nightmare from which I'm bound to wake up "any minute now" rather than wrap my head around the fact that...That it fucking hurts,that I want to drink till I'm numb,that I'd rather be anyone but myself now.
Writing is good-that is,when you can see.
I try avoiding people.People are draining and needy and too much like myself to be emotionally useful.
Coffee helps-it calms down that nauseating taste at the back of your throat.Then again,by the fourth cup,one starts to wonder if it isn't actually the other way round...
Funnily enough,it's easier to live another's drama-even when that someone is not someone at all.
Truth be told,nothing can be funny right now,considering I feel the strongest urge to bash my head against a wall,but yeah.We do all that we can.
I,on the other hand,fail miserably and pray I don't wake up in the morning.

...when it all goes to Hell

Today is black and it shall remain blank.

Hungry

my body craves what my mind doesn't need
and I'm stuck between
a primal need,society and a thought
of everlasting greed.

this hunger,this unfilled core,
this ghost without a body
is like a slab of meat among wolves:
always a temptation,
never a form of absolution...

be damned my mind and my fingers
for I don't know how to baptize
this imaginary bastard
of ceaseless appetite !
be damned my luscious ghouls!
be damned everything I think
I love!

to starve in the middle of a bountiful crop-
my world...

How to be

you have to be pretty and you have to be smart,
you have to be lovely and you have to be brave,
you have to be daring and you have to behave,
you have to be fearless and you have to be Eve

you have to be a paradox
of unsurmountable proportions,
all perfect and broken and sweet as can be,
a hurting doe at the mercy of the first soul
willing to drag you to your feet

you have to be a naked beast
in the clothes of a nun
and constantly kissing
with blood-red lips
a cross
made not for God,but for other's sins

you have to be as hollow
as they want you to be,
ready to close your eyes and happy to kneel

you have to be everything and still be pleased

I can't be.

Confusing clocks

I never really understood why
things were seen as "necessary"-
maybe I was born on the wrong day,
the one when the Universe got truly sad
or time was invented by a drunk madman
or it wasn't my time at all.

I despise the need to hang my day
on the dark limbs of this mechanical creature
no more real than the nightmares I've been having
since before I was born.

I'm angry with myself for not knowing how to feel,
for blaming my youth,
for misplacing my priorities.

I hate this gaping void,this overwhelming darkness
that feels not shame nor pain in making
my open eyes seem as if they'd been blinded
by a veil.

I wish I could just burn a history book.

Hidden purpose

I didn't want to go back today.Waking up,there was this awful taste in my mouth and the alarm clock sounded even more haunting.So I granted myself another day of isolation,another day for closure,another day to try to let go.

Life is so weird when it doesn't seem like your life anymore:you read,you eat,you weep,but everything has a hazy aura to it and you're constantly waiting for that badly written script to unravel a silly joke.

But...it doesn't.People come and go,life carries on with you stuck in the background.

Even so,sometimes,some blessed times,salvation has a name and that is "patience".Sometimes,it's a good thing to pray.Sometimes,a beloved soul is returned to you and the world makes sense again.Sometimes,it's OK to be a stupid child...

Maybe my staying had a hidden purpose,maybe it was pure luck.Either way,I'm happier now that this day has a purr to it.

Blank day

You wake up,but you don't feel alive at all.You eat,but every bite is hard to swallow and tastes like purposeless dust.You cling to a cup of coffee,but the past comes creeping in,as does your carelessly smothered rage.You try to read,but words seem vapid,stingy,dumb.You go outside,but there's too much sun and too little comfort in such a familiar place.You listen to music,but you know all too well that this will come back to bite you in the heart someday.You turn on the TV,but those people seem stupid and too tiresome.You try to write,but the ink hurts your fingers and your eyes.You bury your head into a pillow,but sleep is too much of a wicked monster to relieve your aches.You cry,but your tears are on the inside and there's only so much you can do to turn them into the catharsis you so badly need.You try to find a solution,but your problem doesn't have one.You wish this were somebody else's story,but the odds aren't in your favor today.

Leave me be!

People don't understand other people's pain.

They turn it into something trivial and unimaginable just because they can't relate to it.You cry because you're weak,because you're a child,because you're not thinking straight-but never because your pain is real,too damn real,and,in the words of a wise man,"it demands to be felt".

My pain is as real as can be and I need to let it consume me for a while if I am to come out of this whole ordeal at least a bit sane.

You have no right to tell me for whom or what I should and shouldn't weep,no right to tell my heart what's "important" and what's not.

Do you know why I ache so badly?Because I have so little in my life which matters that I can't bear loss.Yes,I'm a child,a stupid,loving,empathy-driven and hopeless child,who cares for a cat as much as does for a man.

And this child has one reason less to come home and one fearful reason more to leave it behind...

Wet pillow

I want to never have a nightmare again.
I want to release myself from hatred.
I want to destroy all my clocks.
I want to rewrite this day.
I want to get out of this goddamn train.
I want to not have a black feeling in my guts.
I want to erase that song from my mind.
I want to not care so damn much.
I want to smoke until I puke,then start all over again.
I want to drink myself into oblivion.
I want to not feel so real.
I want to stop crying.
I want to bring yesterday into today.
I want to cleanse my mind of all these gruesome thoughts.
I want to make things better,but I don't know how.
I want to forget this pain.
I want to beat somebody up so badly.
I want to let go,but I can't...

Tucked away

nu mai stiu cat fac 2+2
sau de ce traiesc eu pe Pamant
sau de ce ma chinui sa citesc
volume in care atarna cuvintele unor oameni
din cenusa si glorie postuma.
nu m-a pregatit nimeni pentru experienta halucinanta
a vietii insumate in "trebuie","nu"
si "ai pierdut",
iar eu nu am invatat sa supravietuiesc
fara sa ma ranesc singura.
asa ca ma ascund.
ma ascund sub o patura imbacsita
si intr-o muzica in surdina
si in somnul chinuit ce ma lasa sa uit
pentru o clipa.
nu mai stiu cum ma numesc
sau de ce mai iubesc
sau cum sa traiesc "normal".

In the middle of it all

Imi vine sa-mi ucid alarma.
Cel mai frumos moment al zilei mele este cafeaua de dimineata si asta e un lucru tare trist.
Mi s-a luat de invatat,mi s-a luat de stres,mi s-a luat de tot.
Desigur,eu ma duc sa platesc caminul in ultimele haine de pe pamant si atunci apar toti baietii frumosi.
Linistea si singuratatea ma scot efectiv din minti.
Nu stiu,ma simt in mijlocul tuturor lucrurilor,ca intr-o menghina pe care n-am cerut-o niciodata si din care nu stiu cum sa ies nevatamata.
Daca voi continua sa mananc in ritmul de fata,atunci sigur nu voi mai putea iesi pe usa.
Pregatirile de ultim moment sunt inutile intelectual,insa absolut necesare psihologic.
Ori sunt geniala,ori sunt idioata-nu exista cale de mijloc la mine.
Drumul de la Romana pana la Universitate e simpatic atunci cand scapi de griji si miroase a primavara.
Sunt obosita,sunt mult prea obosita ca sa-mi mai pese.
Viata m-a luat brusc pe nepregatite.
Trebuie sa dorm putin...

I don't remember

nu-mi amintesc ziua de azi-
poate nu pot,poate nu vreau.
poate mi-a frant cineva inima sau
poate mi-a invinetit o masa palma sau
poate ca mi s-a redus viata la functiile esentiale
si scris.
simt un gol cum se umfla si cum coboara de cate ori
mi se framanta plamanii intr-o respiratie superficiala
de om spalacit-
poate mi se pare,poate n-am habar,
poate totul e o gluma proasta
si eu am ramas fara ultimul dram de haz.
mi-e goala mintea de vise,metrou ori oameni,
scobita ca un fruct si lasata sa se usuce sub soarele
mustind a primavara.
nu-mi amintesc ziua de azi-
poate nu vreau,poate nu pot,
poate n-am trait suficient sa merit
o poveste care sa aiba si cap,si coada...

Clever words

I've always thought that being smart
meant having words flow out of your mouth
like gilded sparrows of glistening wit
and people around you rushing to catch them
before they dissolved into thin air
-but I've grown now,more so than I ever
wished and believed,grown into this being
that seems to have no seams...
being smart is knowing when to sew your mouth
with the most intricate pattern of disbelief and charm.
being smart is throwing a word like a rock
into a puddle and watching as the calamity unfolds
all beautiful and distraught.
being smart is more like a brutal beast
than a tamed lamb-
you need to butcher your way around with the most
beautiful smile at hand.
I'm not smart- I'm just a coward with a pen
and a swollen ego from the past...

Emerald train

Sa adormi si sa te trezesti fix in aceeasi pozitie,fara vise,fara cosmaruri,fara odihna.
Sa mananci si sa-ti faci cafeaua mult prea dulce in cel mai mecanic mod cu putinta.
Sa cauti alinare intr-un om deranjat,intr-un om pe care nu l-ai cunoscut si nu-l vei cunoaste niciodata,pe care-l iubesti cu inima tacuta si instelata.
Sa-ti intampini familia cu mai putin entuziasm decat te-ai fi gandit.
Sa te pregatesti pentru ceva ce astepti cu sufletul incordat.
Sa-ti fie sila de lumea deschisa,de trenul livid,de rutina scarboasa.
Sa vorbesti tot drumul cu o prietena despre toate problemele stupide ale vietii...
Sa te intrebi tot drumul daca baiatul acela se holbeaza la tine pentru ca te place sau pentru ca te considera nebuna de legat.
Sa regreti tot drumul bluza verde de bunica pe care oricum nu voiai s-o porti.
Sa te retragi in camera goala de camin.
Sa stai treaza pana in inima noptii pentru un eseu stupid.
Sa vrei ceva si sa nu stii ce vrei.
Sa vrei altceva.

Alone together

Zgomote matinale.Perna tocita.Viziuni innabusite.Mancare de oameni mari.Cafea dubla si facuta cu mainile mele.Binecuvantarea telefonului mobil.Foi stupide si responsabilitati idioate.Muzica,pisici si soare- intr-un cuvant,Paradisul.Amintiri actualizate si reimprospatate.Placerea meschina de a-l obliga pe frate-miu sa-si faca temele.Din nou,rolul de mama ma ia de mana si ma domina.Ploaie de vara in mijlocul primaverii.Sezlong ud si flori albe.Animale incapatanate si vesti neasteptat de triste.Melodii care ne leaga de trecut,ne bucura in prezent si ne propulseaza in viitor.Tentativa #22 de a invata-esuata.Otrava neagra si rece.Asteptare nocturna."Star Trek" fratesc si entuziasm interstelar.Singuri impreuna si luminile aprinse prin toata casa.Obiceiuri de cand eram mici si frica impartasita de intuneric.Noapte buna-sa speram...

"Closer"

There are days when you feel hollow.And there are days when things just crumble,even if you can't see them with the naked eye.In the end,there are days when you feel like "a copy of a copy of a copy",when life is nothing but a cluster of raggedy pixels and bad sensations,when you're nothing but that sickening song that's looping in your head...

I've become a ghost of walking flesh.The best of the worst.Hurting,but not showing.A savage mix of lust and envy and every other sin you could imagine.So damn damaged...

I keep telling myself that "this too shall pass"-shallow words for a shallow sense of confidence.But...But what if it doesn't go away?What if I'll forever be stuck with this scar on my tongue,like a burning cigarette?

What bothers me most is that I'm at a loss for words.This ache in my heart,this voice in my head,they can't be captured in any metaphor and that makes me just want to...

I used to think I was always the best version of myself.Key words-"used to".Now,I'm anything but "best",anything but "myself"-at least,not the one I could define with a smile on my lips.I'm kinda lost and verging on desperate...

I cling to small things because I can't afford to think big,to trust the unknown,to get out and never look back.Mu bubble is perfect as it is,I don't want to grow out of it,I don't...

My pain feels old and unreal,like I'm not supposed to be like this.I can't point out the core of my misery because there isn't one.This is a personal melancholia that I wish to discard."Wish" versus "fact"-guess which of them freaking wins...

There are days which don't seem days at all.

Scarlet chairs and fleeting blossoms

ma trezesc si ma gandesc la toata neputinta
ce ma-nteapa pe sub piele
ca o iritatie amenintatoare.

pasesc in ceea ce mi se spune ca-i real
cu talpile de piele dezbracate
si-mi spun cu ochii inchisi pe dinauntru ca
"o sa treaca, o sa treaca..."

florile atarna in ghirlande de zapada
prin pomii framantati de vant,
dar umbra lor e stacojie,sangeranda,
iar eu stau deloc mandra
pe un tron golit de puls.

pribegia ma consuma si ma lasa fara aer,
fara suflet,fara consolare-
nici mari,nici oceane n-ar putea sa umple
carcasa asta fara casa.

ma lovesc de un perete,nu stiu cum sa-l sparg,
mi-am sfaramat degetele,dar gandul a ramas
blocat...

S-a rupt ultima coarda.

Burning skin

Am visat ca murisem si,din nou,nu-mi pasa- nu cred ca am mai experimentat starea asta de serenitate vreodata in viata.

Cafea murdara,marker roz,tus pe podul palmei-un "vis" matinal devenit realitate.

Prea multe cuvinte straine vor sa-mi intre in cap si eu ma incapatanez sa le inchid geamurile si portile,desi n-ar trebui deloc sa fac asta.

Ma bantuie o melodie cu franturi de dantela fosforescenta,fuste scurte in padure si sange peste vanatai.

Metrou aglomerat+oameni frumosi=un "eu" tare frustrat si trist si resemnat.

Pune-ma in centrul atentiei si ma afunzi intr-o gaura neagra din care n-am invatat inca sa ies fara arsuri crude.

In capul meu locuieste o floare care se deschide dureros in cele mai inoportune momente.

Cateodata,Iadul este mai pamantesc decat am crede.
Nu credeam ca o sa mai vad lumina azi.
Sunt indragostita de umanitate intr-un fel bizar si mi-e dor de pescarusii de la geam.
Fetis cu muzica in franceza.
Ce mai conteaza acum?
Nimic...

Birds in my heart

fluturii din stomac au evoluat si s-au mutat
in inima-
acum am pasari fara nume intr-o colivie
ce pulseaza-n sentimente ruginite
prin lianele din trup.

mi se rupe mintea-n doua
ca o nuca de miez moale,
fiecare jumatate-aripa independenta-
iubind ingeri,iubind carnea...

salta si se-nvarte stolul din launtru
pana isi transforma ciocul
intr-un zambet ba de "maine",ba de "niciodata",
ciupind usor din stanca sura
de care ma sprijineam odata.

mi-e greu sa cred in zborul lor ingreunat,
desi usita se crapa intr-un stacojiu alimentat
de ochi,de buze si de vorbe
pictate in albastru matinal...

as vrea sa vad un cuib conturat
de doua nume-n alb...

Half here,half there

Era sa ma calce o masina alba azi.
Treceam pe verde si o nebuna s-a gandit ca n-a mai bagat de ceva vreme pe cineva in sperieti-poate nu i-a placut fata mea,poate aratam deja moarta,nu stiu.Ideea este ca a fost cat se poate de real si cat se poate de aproape.Am realizat totul abia cand am ajuns in camera de camin si atunci orice reactie ar fi fost de prisos.
Problema mea cu aceasta situatie este ca nu mi-a pasat.Am trecut peste faptul ca mai aveam putin si deveneam palcinta umana cu aceeasi lejeritate ce m-ar fi caracterizat daca ma loveam la degetul mic de la picior intr-un colt de mobila.
Asta spune multe despre starea mea spirituala,nu-i asa?Eu va spun ca sunt proasta si voi tot nu ma credeti...
"Acasa nu s-ar fi intamplat asa ceva"- n-am de unde sa stiu,dar e o consolare sadica.
Au trecut cateva ore si mintea deja mi s-a intors cu spatele in mine.Am obrajii in flacari si cafeaua are gust de pamant.Iar m-au ingropat in foi.Doar in foi...
S-a rupt cea de-a doua coarda.

Bad back,good memories

Careless nights make me want to marry my bed.

With this kind of treatment fit for a king,I'll never end up being a responsible and independent adult.

Though it's been a fleeting and gloomy meeting (damn you,crazy weather!),I can't deny it's wonderful to chat with a dear friend and be our silly selves again.

"No train Sunday" sounds amazing,doesn't it?

Good food and familiar company always have a way of silencing,if only for a while,the demons in my head.

I'm procrastinating my life away in such a pleasant way sometimes that I can't even be bothered to care.

To study for my midterm or to (re)watch "How to train your dragon" with my brother?Decisions,decisions...I'll get the popcorn.

My back hates me so much that it has apparently decided to screw with my pain threshold-yeah,that's not working out pretty nicely...

Call me crazy,but the best time for coffee is "now".

What a day...

Tattooed lips

I always think about my ribs crackling
under the weight
of a phantom's shoe-I love it with a twisted pain,
I live for that silent sound of broken white
and gushing red that's repeating in my head
over and over again...

glass lives,paper tragedies,French kisses-
my wishes are nightmares
and my desires churn in fleshy holes
of recollections.

a skin that yearns for ink
like dirt craves pulsating rain
and a mind void of all
reasonable incentives-
I'd touch the picture of a saint,
but my lips are gathered ashes
waiting to sink...

my soul's already at the bottom of the sea.

Turning point

13:26

Sunt in tren si de-abia acum realizez ca eu chiar nu stiu ce o sa fac cu viata asta a mea.Nu stiu deloc si asta ma sperie.Nu stiu deloc si asta ma lasa rece.Nu stiu deloc.
Toti cei din jurul meu au un plan (sau,cel putin,dau impresia ca au),insa eu...Eu supravietuiesc emotional de pe o zi pe alta.
Mi-e greu sa vreau ceva "maret"-de ce?Pentru ca ii inteleg inutilitatea.Pe de alta parte,mi-e frica sa nu ajung la concluzia ca a fost cea mai valoroasa inutilitate din lume.
Sunt ingrozita pana in maduva oaselor de ceva fara nume si as vrea sa-mi imbratiseze cineva sufletul.Sa-mi stinga cineva lumina din cap,sa dorm si eu putin in gand,sa-mi revin.
Ma uit pe geam si vad ploaia intinsa peste Targoviste.Ma asteapta inca un drum lung si umed.Imi vine sa ma bat singura cand intru in stari de genul,dar stiu ca n-au leac,poate doar o ameliorare:cafea cu lapte ,bucataria mica,ei.Cu toate aceastea,ceva-mi picteaza fata-n negru.
S-a rupt prima coarda.

Crimson dragons

In ordine descrescatoare,eu sufar de: cosmaruri macabre,cafele mult prea tari,mana dreapta care amorteste a "foarte bine" in ultima vreme.

Am nevoie cateodata de o palma virtuala peste ceafa ca sa ma detasez de grijile mele stupide si de scenariile apocaliptice construite din vid.Noroc cu tata.

Parca trebuia sa invat,nu sa-mi vina sa vomit de oboseala,emotii si Dumnezeu mai stie ce boala imaginara!

Mi-au purtat noroc "dragonii": am avut cel mai tembel zambet euforic pe fata si cea mai plapanda speranta in suflet toata ziua.Rosul ma prinde...

Draga strainule din metrou: daca as fi Lana del Rey,te-as lua sa apari intr-un videoclip de-al meu.Cu tot cu tatuajele tale geniale.Si chipul tau ametitor.De fapt,te-as lua si nu te-as mai lasa sa pleci deloc.Cu drag,fata care si-a muscat buzele pana la sange,in speranta ca o vei observa si ii vei cere numarul de telefon.

Ceai de afine,muzica,glume,nerabdarea aferenta asteptarii zilei de maine-sunt bine.Mi-e bine.Sper. 

Violet scarf

daca ar ploua de jos in sus,
femeile n-ar mai purta fuste si barbatii si-ar arunca
palariile inspre pamant
ca pe niste meduze cu invelis dur.

daca mi-as pune esarfa violet in par,
n-ar mai parea ca am un streang
de gat si-un gand
cel putin meschin tatuat pe pleoapa
stanga,sub ultimul vis impachetat
si pus la pastrare in pod.

daca sangele ar fi cu adevarat albastru,
as fi un colt din panza nocturna
a lui Van Gogh,
toata timida si sublima
in acest moment deja trecut.

daca am invata sa iubim cum trebuie,
cafeaua ar avea gust de saruturi,
inima s-ar intrece cu lumina si timpul,
iar noaptea ar fi paznic,
nu tortura...

Trains,friends,tired eyes

Imi vine sa musc din perna.Iar mi s-a lipit cafeaua de degete.Mereu zici ca ma mut.Da,cercei cu girafe aurii,asta vreau.Emotii in umbre de vara si de gara.Dor de casa prematur si adiere de lacrimi.Draga Mi,imbratisezi mai bine decat oricare persoana ce o cunosc!Brat la brat printr-un colt de Bucuresti,asa ne place noua marti de dimineata!Magnolia alba furata.Povesti recuperate pe un peron al naibii de rece.Blond de august,brunet inchis,roscat spalacit.Ceas nebun,pupici in graba,sentiment de gol si iluzie a realitatii.Recuperare in metrou.Excursie improvizata la magazinul de "zdrente".Draga Honey,nu ma lasi tu sa scap fara o carte de la anticariat,nu?Bine faci.Prea multe despartiri pe ziua de azi.Curs plictisitor,biblioteca agonizanta,capitulare binemeritata.Cafea!Un gol in stomac si o fantana in inima.O sa ma cert cu arcul ala rebel din saltea pana la sfarsitul relatiei noastre.Prea multi baieti frumosi pe holul caminului.Ma ustura,ma inteapa,ma dor ochii.

Yellow flowers and sunny days

Daca dormi intre o perna tare si una moale,garantat o sa ai niste hibrizi de cosmaro-vise de toata frumusetea.

Nu-mi mai place cafeaua la fierbator.

Vreau sa infloreasca pomii,sa port fuste vaporoase,sa merg la tara si sa uit de lume acolo.

E vorba de infatuare si nimic mai mult.

"Eu nu vorbesc,eu scriu" nu merge cu oamenii astia si chestia in cauza ma "secatuieste" emotional maxim.

Cica merita uneori noptile nedormite si "citite".

Mi-am cumparat narcise galbene ca soarele si sunt nespus de fericita.

Putina lumina calda face minuni in orasul acesta mecanic (daca este sa ma intrebati pe mine).

Trebuie sa-mi gasesc o pasiune si sa o las sa ma consume.

Viata la camin trebuia sa fie mai palpitanta si mai faina- mi-au fost "vandute" numai minciuni.

Sunt o baba cu un chip de copil.

Maine e o zi mare si presimt ca o sa fie chiar MInunata.

Este oare atat de patetic si trist ca inca astept sa fiu salvata?Presupun ca da...

Ma dau cu parfum inainte de culcare in speranta ca macar visele imi vor fi dulci.