Captive ramblings

You know,I consider myself a woman of simple taste and simple pleasures:I prefer a nice glass of white wine,a comforting rest,sharp knives,nothing fancy.Let's pretend I was going somewhere with this...

I find myself more and more aware of this invisible pair of shackles hanging from my wrists towards the ground.

Maybe I'm finally going crazy,but I can't shake off a sense of smothering captivity.This is the absolute worst:being stuck between "nothing" and "everything"...
My limbs are numb,my mind is fuzzy,my future is a bad joke.I'm scared of the present and the past doesn't come as any sort of consolation.If this is my Revelation,then I demand a refund!
I've said it a million times before and I'll say it a million times more,as long as this damned state stubbornly clings to me:I don't know what to do in order to cross to one side or another.Yes,I want to conquer the world and show that I'm worth something and die with a smile on my lips.Yes,I'm perfectly content with a mediocre life and a mediocre death because nothing really matters in the end.You see,this sort of thinking gets people into straitjackets...
I can't cry.My memories physically hurt.I don't want to see my friends and I'm constantly biting my tongue around my family.And,as silly as it looks on paper,as terrifying and palpable it is in reality.I'm just stealing silent therapy again,that's all...
These creamy white walls are finally getting to me,it seems.I can be such a bad person every so often-and that's without actually doing something bad!
I know my happiness will make the ones I love happy in return,but there are things even I can't fake.

In the middle of a collapsing state of mind,I seek answers for questions I'd rather not utter out loud.
My,oh my,will I be able to save myself?
My,oh,my...

Drowning in a straight line

my eyes are lakes
with purple rimmed ripples in their waters
ever so growing,
ever so black

I'm nothingness-
somehow,I've managed to steal
a little bit of cosmic flesh to wrap around my bones,
but this void is hard to fill
with dust alone

I never did learn how to swim,so maybe
that's why I feel like I'm drowning
ashore-
it's all a matter of perspective

but I just can't shake off this feeling
of aquatic despair
and false redemption
towards a God
with earthly soles
beneath him

Heat galore

Now,I don't want to frighten anyone,but I might have been contacted by aliens last night.Either that or my darling bad back has decided to throw in a few hallucinations to match the pain.
No matter how you take it,a hot summer night is not the time to be having creepy revelations about man's purpose and the price you have to pay for existing and all that unanswered bullshit I'd rather bury in the deepest,darkest corners of my fuzzy mind.Or is it...?
Man,I want to believe,but then I remember how life in itself is strange as fuck and then I need a drink.
So,after beer for breakfast,I'm much more confident about the fact that I don't have the slightest clue to anything.


Cooking in the middle of Satan's birthday,in the middle of a simmering kitchen,in the middle of a forming existential crisis:bless!If I can go through days like this without cursing my stars,then I'm most definitely on my way towards martyrdom.
But,for Pete's sake,does it get any hotter than this?!No,no,no,just forget I ever said that because somebody with a bloody wicked mind might actually hear me!
I'm seeing steam and red bubbles before my eyes,this is absolutely surreal...
Maybe the sun is melting.Maybe the aliens have something to do with this.Maybe I'm losing it because my freaking brain is boiling inside my skull!
I love summer,but not three summers packed into one.


Remember when I said a few days ago that grandma was probably teaching me how to cook because she wanted to see me married in the near future?Well,the joke just got serious tonight and I'm kinda losing my shit here.
To sum up,she told me something along the lines of finding a boyfriend (aka husband material) in the next five years so that I don't end up embarrassingly alone and so that she gets to see her first grandchild.I won't even mention I almost had a heart attack right there/right then-instead,let's take DEEP breath in and analyze.
Well,while I'm not entirely opposed to having a little ball of crying joy (I would make a fierce mother,trust me!),I'm not seeing "me+man=rest of our lives together".I mean...what?!
Don't get me wrong,I want to fall in love and all that,but I don't see it as a lasting thing...?!
There are so many thoughts racing through my mind right now,I don't even know where to begin...I'd rather go for "I still feel like a child,let's postpone this conversation for another five years,then postpone it again",but I realize I'm in my twenties and everything is suddenly VERY REAL and help...?!?!
How could somebody want me?Choose me?Settle for me?The fact that I'm picky as Hell doesn't help,obviously.Like I can afford THAT position...
And don't even try to cheer me up ,I'm not buying it today-though I know these lovely things might be coming from the heart,it's hard to temper with convictions I'm ashamed to call my own most of the time.
So yeah,another exciting night in the life of "me".I'm so damn stuck in this shitty state of mind that I can't even react somehow.
I'll just sleep my problems off and pray they'll be less poignant tomorrow.

Lazy revolution

I've certainly slept enough,but my back still pains me.
I don't feel like eating,but I know I have to.
I'm not particularly fond of wearing short shorts,but this wickedly hot weather demands skin and patience.
I'm all for "productive seclusion",but,at some point,you just got to get out of the house.
I'm absolutely in love with coffee,but this love is bound to backfire and kick me in the liver.
I'm a child of summer,but this is just too damn much!
I'm covered in books,but I still find myself drawn towards other kinds of stories.
I know some things aren't real,but they're real enough for me and that's all that matters.
I particularly dislike Sunday afternoons,but I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one.
I'm usually drawn towards comedies when I'm in a weird mood,but today I chose action and I feel like starting a revolution!
I would make a great hairstylist,but my hands are kinda shaky sometimes.
I should probably start a summer diet,but today is not the day.
It's time I went to bed early.

Queen of the kitchen

Ma pregateste mamaia de maritat- altfel nu-mi explic interesul brusc de a ma invata toate secretele bucatariei.

Bine,adevarul gol-golut este ca eu am facut primul pas in aceasta directie pentru ca 1.vreau sa o mai scutesc pe mama de o grija (de parca n-ar avea destule!) si 2.nu vreau sa par la fel de inutila pe cat ma simt vara asta.

Desi sunt abia la inceput,mi-e tare drag de micile ritualuri si trucuri care transforma zeci de piese separate intr-un intreg.

Desigur,mai am multe ore de petrecut deasupra oalelor aburinde pana sa indraznesc macar sa spun ca "gatesc bine",insa senzatia de creator s-a instalat deja si incep sa prind curaj.

Imi place sa migalesc,sa decojesc,sa tai,sa mestec,sa fac.

Se zice ca mancarea iese buna atunci cand "pui suflet"-sa speram ca acest lucru va fi in avantajul meu.

Si nici nu pot sa pun in cuvinte cum sorb atentia,grija,iubirea de care da dovada bunica atunci cand intra in "transa bucataritului".

"Master Chef" scrie pe mine,va spun!

Friday night:silent drama

Not to sound old or wise (hahahahaha NO),but watching movies for/about teens makes me either cringe or laugh myself to death.I mean,I can't believe I was once in that same position!Well,the "once" is like two or three years ago and by "position" I mean a state of perpetual awkwardness I'd rather not acknowledge,not even in hindsight.

Maybe I'm bitter because I didn't get my "perfect princess scenario",but who isn't,right?Yeah,no,nobody kissed me in the rain or swept me off my feet (figuratively or literally,pick your choice) and let's not even talk about prom,I get all emotional about it in all the wrong ways.

Watching an actual "perfect scenario" leaves a sour shadow on my smile,even though I know I'm watching from behind several cameras.

I mean,I don't expect some sort of miracle from faith,but I kinda somehow do?!

Nice,Adriana,very coherent and logical,nice!

The main idea is that I don't believe in what these movies sell...but I can be persuaded.

I really should be out in a bar right now...

Apples and sighs

Noaptea se dovedeste la fel de afurisita ca ziua,iar ziua pare o bucatica imprumutata din Iad-gata,ne mutam in frigider!
Cana de cafea de dimineata mi-a fost,imi este si imi va fi mereu cea mai buna prietena neinsufletita.
Desene,mere,frate-simt cum se formeaza un tipar si asta nu ma deranjeaza deloc.
In ritmul de fata,cu o mana pe cratita si una pe mouse,poate ca n-o sa ajung atat de inutila pana la urma!
Ma indragostesc de ceea ce scriu instantaneu,insa pot la fel de repede sa urasc copilul din litere.
Am si eu dreptul la o zi fara batai de cap?
Mi-e sila uneori sa scriu pentru ca mi se par toate zilele trase la indigo.
O sa ma fac verde la fata de atatea mere verzi,ma jur...
Daca as putea sa imi petrec toata viata citind,totul ar fi mult mai usor si mai putin dureros.
O cearta pe care nu poti s-o aplanezi e ca un ghimpe pe care nu poti deloc sa-l scoti din ureche.
Nu mai stiu ce sa zic...

Warmth beneath the skin

licurici de aur imi pocnesc prin vene,
noaptea se scurge in intuneric,
am valuri de electricitate printre degete
si visul pare mai real decat trebuie

sa iubesti iubirea altora
e o nebunie minunata,o nebunie curata
chiar daca sarutul rasare din mocirla
si asa cred ca se simte Dumnezeu
privind in jur

am de numarat pacate aromate
pe degetele mele si pe degetele altora,
insa inima-mi pompeaza
valuri albe peste ranile negre-
ce altceva mai conteaza?

caldura ma cuprinde pe sub piele,
iar oasele se-mbratiseaza sa faca
din stralucire umbra

sunt un suflet pierdut si astept cuminte
ca stelele sa ma gaseasca

People like clouds

I miss the sea so much that I might have actually become one.

The shore of my hips sways under waves of heat,while the sandcastle I see as spine slowly crumbles under the hands of imaginary winds.

I can always taste sand in my mouth,crunching between my teeth and scratching behind my lips.

Shake me a little too much and you'll find rattling shells instead of soles,even strings of emerald and crimson hanging from bleached ribs.

I never settle: one step forward,one step backwards.

Always churning,always reaching for something I can never quite reach.

My head is brewing a storm,but my limbs are numb and almost like jelly.

I'm a sea and my body is overflowing.

People are like clouds,in the end.

Sometimes they hold together,showing an array of different,but recognizable shapes,while sometimes they just fall apart.

Clumps of clouds may be found on the cerulean sheet of the sky at any given time,though there are moments when your eyes are graced solely by a blank page.

Some clouds are creamy,some angry sapphirine,some even pierced by the sunset or sunrise with shades fit for candy cane and tangerines- no matter the nuance,every cloud has a different shade,a wild elusiveness,a surreal existence.And I find that only fair and beautiful.

People are like clouds to me because I'd rather soar than sink when my time has come...

I'm writing through my tears because my heart doesn't know how to react otherwise.

I want to believe this is attainable and real,a glimmer of a fallen Eden in the middle of endless darkness.

This is a human bond which cannot be encompassed into words,a connection beyond love and lust,the closest thing to what some might consider "divine bliss".

I desire to be consumed and rebuilt,to rise and to fall,to find myself not in a mirror,but in a mold of which I am a perfect half.

I want to meet the soul for which I could both die and live a million times and beyond.

I need this to violently blossom before my very eyes.

I strive to robe an ideal with flesh and conscience and to make it mine.

Badly fitted parts

a foot to twitch underneath
plastered sheets
doesn't fit frayed hips
of grayish bone

my shoulder blades are wings
which do no soar
and my jaw clenches with a pang,
leaving teeth and purple veins
to gather in the aftermath

the Queen of Ache stands tall
in ivory vertebrae and juicy marrow,
all glistening in shadowed pain,
all marvelous with paranoia seeping into the chorus
of fleshy fallen angels

I'm breaking apart like
the shallow and sickeningly frail
machine that I am

this spine is crumbling,
a tower made out of
dry sand
and smothered screams

Miserable

As spune ca m-am saturat,insa mi se pare ca deja ma repet si nu vreau sa plictisesc.

Mint: m-am invatat sa fac asta si nu mi se mai pare cine stie ce.De ce sa-i incarc pe altii cu gargaunii mei inexplicabili?"Mi-e rau","ma doare capul","am avut cosmaruri azi-noapte",poezia obisnuita.Masca are carne si oase,deci devine credibila uneori pana si pentru mine.

Totusi,ma intalnesc uneori cu zile ca cea de fata,cand pica deghizarea cu tot cu om.Nu stiu si nu pot sa pun in cuvinte o stare spirituala cum este cea de acum,dar nici nu incerc.Nu e depresie,melancolie sau anxietate,ci mai degraba un melanj din toate si niciuna.

Imi vine sa capitulez in fata unui razboi mut si surd pe care nu-mi explic cine l-a inceput in primul rand.

E o zi absolut tembela,asta e!

Cred ca trec printr-o combinatie de resemnare si inchipuire de sindrom Cotard: dar ce veste minunata!

Somnul ma paralizeaza,mancarea ma scarbeste,linistea ma macina: imi vine sa sterg zile ca aceasta duminica de pe calendar sau sa le marchez ca fiind "netraite".

Ce sentiment mizerabil...

Willow crowns

Sweaty night.Trouble getting up.Hazy morning.A full plate of food.Numbing coffee.The same old pair of jeans.Father-daughter philosophical talk.Gorgeous Japanese fan.Crowded running around.Chocolate sweets.Aching spine.Playing vegetarian cook.Greasy palms.Lost appetite.Pinkish fake nails.Indecisive rain.Squeaky cats.Much welcomed bed.Captivating show.Crimson wall decorations.Dirty mirror.Idiotic quarrel.Clinging clothes.White eyeliner.Simmering city.Lovely friends.Building storm.Our favorite place.Cold and creamy coffee.Funny stories.Fascinating hand drawings.Written plans.Uncomfortable observations.Changing tables.Smoke and the scent of wild berries.Sudden detour.Sad dogs.Sunset park.Sapphirine and teal sky.Willow crowns.Lots of pictures.Dark walk home.Crunchy green apples.Blood pumping stories.Lonely and desolated feeling.Tired conclusions.Longing for sleep and peace of some sorts.

Oh,girls...

Revederile nu-mi fac bine.

Adica da,mi-e drag sa-mi revad prietenele si sa le pupacesc si sa aflu ce-au mai facut in tot timpul asta cat n-am avut cum sa ne vedem.Dar,daca pun in balanta reusitele lor cu inertia mea,nu raman decat cu o amara durere de inima.

Din nou: le iubesc,le ador,le doresc tot binele din lume si inca pe atat!Nu sunt geloasa,ci suparata- suparata pe mine,pe lenea mea existentiala,pe mentalitatea mea de copil tembel de liceu.

As vrea sa pot spune "de maine,totul se va schimba",insa eu nu ma impac prea bine cu planurile.Este oribil sa te trezesti prins intre "dezinteres complet" si "hai sa cucerim din nou Vestul Salbatic"...

Dupa o cafea buna,o plimbare mai limpezeste gandurile si pune sangele in miscare.Totusi,povestile mele au fost cele mai seci,iar schimbarile cele mai insignifiante.Cum sa nu te simti prost fata de tine insuti?

Mi-a placut enorm sa-mi revad fetele,chiar daca durerea asta masiva de cap nu ma lasa s-o exprim cum trebuie.Am facut destul haz de necaz,m-a prins din urma...

Mai ramane si revederea de la anul.

Hurry,hurry!

Wake up.Regret having done that.Refuse food.Burn your tongue on the first sip of coffee.Wallow in your own misery.Complain about back pain.Bid farewell to more productive people than yourself.Pretend you know how to cook.Sing the songs on the radio.Miss your favorite cartoon because dishes need to be washed,you know.Throw on a pair of jeans and some make up so that you don't go out looking half dead.Take your brother along to solve the same problem for the millionth time.Bask in the glory of a minor success.Act all motherly (like you always do).Resort to coffee so that you don't feel like life is driving you insane anymore.Dread the thought of more tedious work to come.Recall you haven't listened to your new favorite song all day and do something about that.Acknowledge you like the fact that your entire family is under one roof.Play with some noisy and adorable kittens.Give up.Reclaim your fluffy bed.Forget about the world through pointless entertainment.Drink some nice tea.Pray for a good night's sleep.

Stormy clouds of pink

mi s-a incolacit frigul pe oase
in inima tropicala a verii
si ma trage inapoi spre pamant

o viata inregistrata pe caseta
mi se desfasoara in fata ochilor
zi dupa zi dupa zi dupa zi-
ma recunosc: protagonista excelenta
in rolul omului fara rost
sau personalitate

banca verde,cafea galbena,fructe albe-
disperarea are miros de furtuna,
iar norii se aduna in manunchiuri roz
pe zarea trasata de acoperisuri

n-am curajul sa stau sub atingerea
unei ploi imprevizibile de vara,
nici inima sa ma despart de cer

asa ca-mi scriu povestea fara verbe
intre doua picaturi de violet
si inserare

Blue owls

My nights are boiling black and my mornings are sour cold-could it get any better?
I want to be more mature,yet I still watch cartoons and get into stupid fights.
My brother is the same height as me,even though I'm 7 years older than him.
When will I learn that things never go my way?
As much as I don't give a damn about them,people still manage to scare me.
A blue owl T-shirt and some tasty food-enough "good deeds" for today.
I sometimes just want to bury my head in a bunch of pillows and leave it there.
Why does "having fun" seem like such a chore all of a sudden?
Either I'm starting to experience bursts of happiness or I've become so good at faking it that I've managed to convince myself.
Funny stories and nice coffee go hand in hand.
Some people change for the better,some never do.
New memories seem to fit old cigarettes.
You just can't have a pleasant night out without some family drama,I'm telling you...
I'll drown my sorrow in green apples and sappy stories.
Oh,God...

Endless patterns

Life's a blur.An endless and unforgiving blur.

My days flow in the same manner as they always have.My thoughts bear the same weight at the end of each mental syllable.My petty distractions have a lifespan too short for any kind of real efficiency.To sum up,I'm drowning in patterns within patterns.

I'm as tired of them as you are!Though I'm mostly just tired,without having done anything at all...

My ghostly sorrow finds relief in coffee and green apples.Sleep is welcomed,but nightmares are most definitely not.Feeling a bit better than yesterday doesn't come as a soothing balm,since it's like pouring a glass of water over burnt skin: temporary,but not enough.

This week is going to be all about catching up with old friends-maybe that will give me a new perspective on life.Or not...

My pessimism is leaking through pores I never knew I had,isn't it?It's hard to be yourself when you don't know who you are anymore.The real problem is that I don't know if I truly want to break the patterns...

Life's still a blur.

Everything sucks

I swear to God,there are days when the Universe feels too damn wrong to even be real!
Days when I literally become sick to my stomach because of what is happening around me.Days when I'd rather be drunk or medicated instead of fully aware of the injustice,ignorance and death lurking at every corner of this godforsaken world.
I can't,I really just can't.I can't pretend I'm fine anymore.Not even the small miracles to which I have been hanging on so dearly for some time now can save the situation...
I want to be numb and cry and fall asleep,then wake up and realize it had all been a terrible and tacky nightmare.By Heavens,do I need that!
Everything sucks.From familiar faces to complete strangers and everyone/everything in between.
Holding my head in my hands doesn't help-it doesn't feel lighter or less troubled.
I loathe this kind of torture because it seems just like you're stuck in a loop of painful irritation and smothered anger.
I swear to God,this day is the worst... 

The past into the present

Very lazy morning.Raspy voice.Warm coffee.Musical ears.Familiar chair.Crying kittens.Orange scented lip balm.Rising heat.Loud brother.Silly cartoons.Concerned phone call.Tingling toes.Sighing spine.Luminous eyelids.Unbalanced cats.Blue knees.Uncertain plans.Steaming food.Stupid quarrel.Revisited story.Old brothers.Tormenting light.Bubbling music.Catatonic limbs.Overwhelming reverie.Homemade beauty salon.Grandma's past remembrances.Lap kitty.Unwilling movements.Black and strong drug.Dreary thoughts.Smooth bed.Long hands.Postponed commitment.Clashing desires.Filling paintings.Mesmerizing jewelry.Apple quarters.Sensuous melodies.Too many books and movies.Space tales.Funny jokes.Unpleasant mosquitoes.Building anxiety.Barking dogs.Cool air.Strange noises.Tangerine pajamas.Chamomile tea.Endless screen.Meaningful yawns.Another day sealed in words. 

Music for the lonely souls

There's a world that contains "reality" and a world where your ears decide what "reality" in fact is.

The line between them is thin and giddy,almost like a sheet of ivory and charcoal scratches.
Once you're on "the other side",everything becomes brighter,clearer,louder.Liquids overflow,your heart becomes an ecstatic and blindly organic machine,the tips of your fingers tingle with a buzz of tame electricity.
You feel as if a thousand honey drenched daggers have pierced your body in a vibrant attack of empirical greatness.This is what Heaven with a pinch of Hell sounds like...
You transcend.You erupt.You descend.The entire experience turns holy without the need of a single prayer.The blood of your yesterdays pumps into tomorrow to the rhythm of your own desire.
Time bears no meaning now-behind closed eyes,infinity turns out to be within your reach.
A single melody can connect and unite,conquer and rise.
The desire is real,the lust even more so.It's purely addictive...
Good music is what makes a lonely soul carry on. 

Cerulean silence

sunt un om din carton
si ma cauta insistent
o inundatie

nu ma gandesc decat la cerul albastru,
la albastru,
la ochii lui de un albastru
infiorator

linistea din cap se intalneste
cu bubuiturile din inima
fix in gat,
unde marsaluieste o fanfara
a viziunilor macabre

dementa are iz de rutina,
iar saptamana sta in cui-
ce nebun o mai fi inventat si
sentimentele la distanta?

singurul meu prieten adevarat
are fata verzulie,
multe linii pe trup
si e cu desavarsire mut

Hang on

at open sea,without an anchor,
I fight my way through imaginary waves
in a makeshift ghost ship that's bound
to sink any day now

to see through laced salt is to understand
how skin can be a wound and vision
a curse cast by a witch drenched in
unholy water

there's no movement,no wild sound-
my lighthouse is beaming with gold amidst the blue,
but I'm blind and I'm numb and my lips
are sizzling shells with no flesh
or pearls to contain in a word
of drowning poetry

"hang on" murmurs the nothingness beneath my feet,
"hang on" cries the seagull with flapping wings,
"hang on" laughs the voice inside my head

there's no such thing as salvation without destruction-
my hope now lies in the sky

my sand-filled conscience stings
and pushes me under
with the wrecks

Friends and cloudy perspectives

This is why solitude can mean either salvation or damnation.

I can't believe it's been so long since we've seen each other!Even so,we're pretty much the same as we were back then and that's a little comforting.

We walk,we talk,we catch up on stuff.

Then it strikes me:as you fill the air with stories upon stories,I have nothing to say.

I am,in the most literal sense of the phrase,the same.I haven't grown,I haven't explored-I just swam with the current,but never ventured into the sea.

Still,I'm honestly happy for you because I love you and somehow always will.

But I can't help but wonder when or if I will ever man up to live my life.As much as I say that I don't care,it's obvious I do.
It's scary how much I'm missing out on,but not scary enough to make me stand up.Or is it too much?

Oh,I'm such a child,such a silly and terrified child...

My darlings,the storm that's approaching forces us to part ,but we'll meet again,maybe with more to tell on my part.Lovely things,preferably.

It seems that I've been clinging so much to my past that I've missed my future...

Stolen therapy

Asa.Acum...Am ajuns la un apogeu al vietii mele,dar nu unul care sa merite laude si aplauze.Chiar daca stiu ca toate urletele mele scrise sunt in van,trebuie cumva sa ma eliberez de demonii fara nume.Prieteni sau pereti goi-nu conteaza.Stiu de mult ca nu conteaza...

Mi-e frica.Mi-e tot timpul frica,o frica gretoasa care-mi paralizeaza membrele si care ma face sa-mi doresc sa nu ma fi nascut niciodata.Sunt constant urmarita de o paranoia neagra si simt responsabilitatea intrinseca de a nu-mi lasa nici macar pentru o clipa garda jos.
Ma ingrozesc pana in maduva oaselor de atat de multe lucruri incat le-am pierdut sirul.Mi-e frica de moarte,de despartire,de prezent,de viitor,de ceilalti,de cosmaruri,de schimbare,de stagnare,de mine.Adorm cu imagini demne de un film horror lipite de pleoape si ma trezesc toata intr-o inclestare.Daca vi se pare ca exagerez,credeti-ma: nu stiu sa pun in cuvinte starea ce ma bantuie de ceva vreme incoace.
Poate ca lacrimile m-ar ajuta sa ma descarc,insa pana si ele au decis sa ma paraseasca.Sa apelez la un film sau o carte mi se pare fals si inutil: da,catharsisul s-ar produce in toata gloria sa metaforica,insa problema mea are radacini mult prea dure pentru o astfel de briza emotionala.Asa ca raman permanent intr-o stare crepusculara,privind mereu peste umar,mai speriata de ceea ce nu gasesc decat de potentiala "aratare" incarnata.
Sa presupunem ca sunt eu nebuna (desi,fie vorba intre noi,presupunerea trage mai mult catre "realitate" decat "ipoteza").Trebuie sa merg la doctor,nu?Sa iau pastile.Sa ma transform intr-o varianta atenuata a "legumei" din punct de vedere emotional.Sa depind de o chestiuta rotunda ca sa pot sa dorm cu adevarat noaptea si de alta ca sa n-o iau pe "aratura" ziua.
Bine.
Acum s-o luam pe partea cealalta: nu sunt deloc nebuna,trec printr-o faza,mi s-au scurtcircuitat temporar niste chestii pe la tartacuta.Ce soarta mamei ei de viata ma fac?Si da,am incercat totul,de la babescul ceai de musetel pana la positive thinking&co.,dar "buba" mea e veche si nu trece asa,cu una,cu doua.
Mai facem haz de necaz,ce sa facem...
Fur si eu aici o pagina jumatate de terapie cu straini,mai dau fierea sufleteasca pe pasta din pix.
N-am cu cine sa vorbesc si vorbesc oarcum cu mine insami- nu prea stiu sa-mi pledez cazul,nu-i asa?
S-asa am ocolit total ideea: am teoretizat,invartit,razvratit,toate cele.Dar otrava tot colcaie in mine,mi-e greu s-o scuip pana si pe ascuns...
Mi-e foarte,foarte rau.Uite aici,in capul pieptului.Nu ma strange,ci impinge.Impinge sa iasa ceva murdar afara,cu putere si furie oarba.
Sincer,m-am saturat de mine.M-am saturat de frica si de griji si de gandul ca eu sigur n-o sa fiu niciodata pe deplin fericita din nou.Nu,nu,asa e: ecoul vocii e mereu acolo,acompaniat de "si daca...","in curand...".Iar eu care credeam ca nu mai stiu sa plang...
Multumesc pentru canapeaua imaginara.
Nu vreau sa aflu diagnosticul.
Vreau doar...

Three in one bed

I needed this.I needed to be with my best friends in the same bed,spilling my guts in the middle of the night and being reassured that I'm not alone.Though my demons are still here,loud and obnoxious as ever,I've managed to elude them for a while.

Coffee tastes even better when you're hopeful.

Thank God for unrelated sisters!

I'm not sure about this.This feeling that's churning in my stomach,all stale and sickening.It feels as if I'm wasting borrowed time,but I still can't shake myself out of this numbness.

I'd rather just wait for it to leave.

But that doesn't make me free-it just makes me haunted...

I regret this.I regret feeling all too well locked up in my cocoon,tucked away from the life I could be living right now.

I'm writing bits and pieces instead of a novel-isn't that particularly sad?

I feel old and tired,though I'm neither of them.

Will my youth be just another misspent one?

I'd rather not know...

Kittens and questions

Why do I wake up more tired than I was in the first place?
Why is my appetite drawn towards coffee instead of food?
Why am I always afraid of what is to come next?
Why does my stomach act funny when I'm scared?
Why do I need to be around people to feel protected?
Why do I always end up taking care of cats and kittens and everything in between?
Why does mom take pleasure in arguing with me?
Why am I so fucking paranoid all the time?
Why can't I make plans with a timespan larger than a day?
Why is the weather so keen on showing me I have no control whatsoever?
Why do I always end up wearing a pair of blue jeans and a white shirt?
Why did I go straight to the alcohol-filled candy?
Why does everything seem so awkward sometimes?
Why does beer make it all better somehow?
Why do TV shows make me experience such powerful emotions?
Why does pizza taste so damn good?
Why do I feel so tired at an early age?
Just...why?

Friendly rain

Albul nu ma primeste,asa ca-mi iau cosmarurile de brat si le gem de pe o parte pe alta a cearceafului mototolit.
"Durere" e putin spus,dar "agonie" suna prea dramatic-sa zicem ca trupul mi-e astazi o rana in curs de vindecare.
Cutii in brate,cutii pe la picioare,cutii in sus,cutii in jos-imi mai lipseste o cutie pe cap si "mutatul" e complet!
E putin penibil cat timp petrec sa ma aranjez pentru un om caruia "nu-i pasa".
20 de ani sau nu,eu tot am o anumita "ora de desene" cu frate-miu si nu-mi pasa cine stie asta!
Cum ma astept eu sa fac ceva in viata cand mie mi-e frica pana sa si ies din casa?
Revederile,chiar daca au loc dupa ridicol de mult prea mult timp,arata ca prietenii adevarati nu se schimba deloc in aspectele esentiale.
Of,ploaie draga,chiar nu puteai sa ne lasi in pace in seara asta?
Nimic nu e mai amuzant decat o "miere" cu botic.
Mere si muzica si griji-nimic neobisnuit pentru mine.
Poate o sa dorm si eu noaptea asta...

Covered in paint

Asa goala cum este acum,camera nu mai pastreaza niciun secret si-mi pare chiar rusinoasa.

Hainele ciupite si zdrentaroase imi sunt pregatite de o experienta aproape organica,insa eu nu pot decat sa visez la o cafea tare sau un pat moale.

Incepem-greu,dar incepem.

Oasele mi se impotrivesc in unghiuri ritmice,iar muschii inca isi amintesc de sambata,inca nu vor,inca nu pot.

Dar mergem mai departe,ne imbracam involuntar in alb si fredonam un cantec ce se izbeste in franturi de peretii uzi.

Am zapada lichida pana si-n ochi,ceea ce nu e bine-in mod curios,nu vad lumea mai curata,ci nu mai vad deloc.

Se-ngroasa gluma,se-ngroasa si vopseaua: n-am mai vazut lemn atat de hapsan de nou pana acum!

Pauzele nu fac decat sa acutizeze senzatiile vechi si sa aseze noua stare.

Pana cand se aduna toate sufletele in casa,podeaua sclipeste a padure si eu ma declar invinsa de propria neputinta acumulata.

Daca s-ar disipa sentimentul de descompunere,m-as putea bucura si eu cum se cuvine de un lucru dus pana la capat.

Camera "noua" pentru o noua viata.

Sa "ne traim" una alteia!

Here we go again...

It's that time of the year again-no,not Christmas,so put your excitement aside.

It's time for the annual "let's paint my room and move things around" festivity-I can't even contain my eagerness,obviously.
Though it's nice to change stuff and mark my return with a "rebirth" of sorts,I'm 99.99% certain I'll end up doing all the work and getting high on white paint and ruining a set of clothes.
But I'm a big girl now,aren't I?Or so they say...
It's rather traumatizing to start packing once again,even if only to get everything at the far end of the house.Still,it has to be done,hurting right hand or not.
This redecoration has to be done because good memories need to be preserved and bad ones need to be cleansed.
The amount of "deja-vu" I'm currently experiencing is ridiculous,but I know my heart's not the same as when I was taking posters instead of paintings off the walls.
That being said and boxes filled to the brim,wish me luck and steady hands for the job!

Boxes by the bunch

I only just came and yet I go
within the same circles of the Universe
I was thought by circumstance to call
my own

I'm knicks and knacks,beads and coiled silver,
badly written poetry and dried flowers,
things you can put in boxes and hide
under the bed when reality demands more
than a gilded phantom

I pack myself with dust and spiders
inside the womb of cardboard houses
and stand amidst the milky walls
of a room that's turned rotten
like so many times before-
no wonder I'm still a child
in an overgrown cocoon

I only just came and yet I go
through the same wounds and bruises
I wish to heal and conceal
once and for all

Orange July

Wholesome sleep.Delicious coffee.Necessary errand.Colorful bottles and boxes.Hurried walk.Chocolate blouse."Michelangelo Buonarroti-Poems".Grandma's signature and lovely dedication.First heartfelt meal of the day.Steaming cups and swollen legs.Last summer's music.Apparently distant and now painful memories.An abundance of orange.Delayed work.Lazy pen.Boring news.Funny brother.Infinite black box.Stiff muscles.Last drops of white wine.Fluffy covers.Worries upon worries upon worries.Sour green apples.Old emerald bench.Thoughts by the dozen.Bad back.Complete family.Smooth sweets for a bearable temper.Cool sunset.Big and empty box.Premature exhaustion.Beautiful books.Remembering with both joy and sorrow how it used to be this time last year.Pink stag drawing.Echoed laughs in the night.Crumpled sheets.Thankful bones."Famous last words".