Bright lights and soggy eyes

...I'm just really pissed off right now.Nothing is fine and I can't deal with this imposed denial anymore!Try as I might,the lie resurfaces again and again,polluting my mind,my life,my sanity.

First of all,the faces.I pass by so many strangers in one single day,that my brain has started to link each one with something familiar.Friends,actors,musicians,everything that I know and love scattered around this impersonal canvas...just to make me feel more secure.It's like my subconscious is trying to shield me,well,basically,from myself.So these weary eyes clutch to so many damn details in the hope of relief,of comfort,of recognition.

Speaking of which,I think I'm turning into a bratty 5-year old...again.I don't know,I just miss human touch so much.Not the vulgar interaction with which I'm (apparently) "blessed" on the subway or down a busy street,no.I'm talking about holding hands,sharing a hug,a kiss on the forehead,things like that.I want to be reminded that somebody cares about me,that I'm worth something,that I'm loved.I want to be certain of my knowledge,of my dignity,of my stamina.I just want...

My personality's fading away.Yep,irony has struck yet again!In a place where nobody gives a rat's ass if your head is shaved or you have a peacock on your shoulder as an accessory,I have "decided" to let myself go.Just like that.Be plain,be ordinary,be myself,in the end.Because,to be honest,why would you notice me?I have nothing to offer and everything to lustily demand.Fair trade?I think not.One day,maybe I'll end up a plain shell,a moving body,a hallow spirit.Ah,why do I always look for salvation from the outside?Why can't I get it into my head that nobody's going to come and rescue me from this makeshift Hell of mine?Jesus,I'm pathetic!Seriously.

I almost cried today."Almost" because I was returning home and there were too many people around me and bleah!But I was holding on to my bag like a drowning man to a buoy,constantly playing with my fingers and touching my wrists as if for security.Am I that obvious?This tragic?I mean,I've started "deducing" myself on the subway,for crying out loud!Jesus!It's sad and pointless and nothing good can come out of it!Only sorrow and the feeling of inferiority.And I don't think I can take any more of that right now...

Anyhow,the point is that I didn't start bawling in front of those innocent bystanders.Instead,I came here,to a blank sheet of paper.These are my tears,these almost coherent words,laid out like a peculiar row of twisted limbs.This is something even I can't take away from myself-writing.For I will never stop using this form of art as an outlet,God willing!It's in my blood now,like coffee and the burning desire to go home.

Home!Such a sweet word,yet full of silent torture.Honestly,I'm scared out of my wits by this seemingly never-ending cycle of "here"-"there" twirls- will I ever settle down emotionally,not only physically?Don't answer that.It would be a joke and a sin.

My body's decomposing,I'm tired,I'm hungry,everything hurts,I have to study,life sucks.Music isn't the same balm anymore and I've run out of sweets.I weep for myself.

Tomorrow,please be better!I'm counting on that.

P.S.I just remembered-it's Halloween.Awesome.

Smothered howl

Urasc luna plina.N-am pus geana pe geana toata noaptea si,pe deasupra,am avut mirifice semi-halucinatii.In plus,mi-au cantat toate melodiile pamantului in urechi pana la rasarit.Pe bune,Univers?Pe bune?!

Poate ca vorbeste intunericul obosit din mine,dar de ce ne mai nastem?Huh?Ca sa murim?Asta e marele premiu?Asta e marea recompensa?Pentru asta tragem ca tampitii de jugul unei vieti mai mult sau mai putin cooperante?...pe foarte bune?!

Nu-mi doresc asta.Nu vreau sa mai stau la inca un curs plictisitor.Nu vreau sa mai aud de accidente.Nu vreau sa ma mai simt atat de rau.Nu vreau sa mai zambesc fals si sa n-am unde plange linistita.Nu vreau sa traiesc mereu cu teama ingrozitoare ca toti cei pe care ii iubesc vor disparea candva si ca tot ce indragesc ma va parasi.Nu vreau sa cred ca inconstienta e singurul mod de a trece prin existenta.Nu vreau,nu vreau,nu vreau!

Stiu ca pare exagerat,dar nu este.Chiar nu este.Asta simt si ma distruge minut cu minut.Obositor,melancolic,devorator.Sincer,mi-ar placea sa stiu a minti mai bine.In felul asta,poate ca mi-ar fi mai usor sa ma pacalesc singura.Sa ma conving fara efort ca nu-mi pasa de sfarsit,de ochii stralucitori ai celorlalti,de baiatul care tocmai a trecut pe langa mine nepasator.Incet,dar sigur,o sa ajung si acolo.In spatiul unde nimic nu mai conteaza,nu mai doare,nu ma mai afecteaza.Cale lunga!Poate prea lunga...

Ma lupt cu mine insami si nu castig deloc.Asa a fost mereu...Eu niciodata nu castig,oricum.M-am impacat cu ideea.Cu noptile nedormite.Cu gandurile intunecate.Cu linistea pagana.E mai usor asa: abandonul...

Urasc luna plina.

Conflicting rain

I don't like waking up to the sound of piercing darkness,tired eyelids and windswept leaves.
I don't like noisy people in the morning.
I don't like being interrupted when I'm reading,especially by rude commentaries and hateful stares.
I don't like it when people pick on those who are either defenseless or unaware.
I don't like it when people basically act like annoying little cunts.
I don't like my feet getting wet and my stomach growling.
I don't like silence and solitude.
I don't like feeling like something bad is about to happen all the time.
I don't like it when I'm lazy.
I don't like fear-inducing words,crippling pauses and sad book endings.
I don't like not knowing.

I like my morning coffee,rushed preparations and passionate perfume.
I like the smell of an old book flowing through my body and imagination.
I like learning about things I never thought could be real.
I like seeing dedicated individuals.
I like the idea that someone could,hopefully and eventually,see me,love me,choose me.
I like walking down a busy street,not knowing a soul and not being recognized in return.
I like the smell of toast on the subway and a hot meal at the end of the day.
I like sleeping my troubles away.
I like reading,admiring beautiful faces and coming up with improbable (yet alluring) parallel universes.
I like being happy and bringing happiness to others.
I like knowing everything's fine.

Green cats

As vrea sa nu mai plec.Sa nu mai fug.Sa uit bagajele prin casa si sa ma bucur intr-adevar de duminica plicticoasa.Nu tu debandada,nu tu stres inutil.

Sa picteze frate-miu fructe de toamna langa mine si pisica gri sa rontaie linistita un biscuite in poala.Sa ma bucur de o cana mare cu vin fiert.Sa-l tund pe tati in gradina,razand si vorbind de toate prostiile lumii.Sa ascult muzica in patul meu,cu volumul dat la maxim si cu aroma de cafea venind dinspre birou.Sa ma certe mamaia ca iar n-am papuci in picioare si eu s-o sarut pe obraz.Sa ma impiedic de zece mii de lucuri cotrobaind prin casa.Sa ma pupe mama pe frunte si sa ma cheme la masa.Sa simt ca sunt acasa,printre oameni care ma iubesc si pe care-i iubesc mai mult decat propria-mi fiinta.

"Ce mi-a trebuit mie,Doamne,facultate?".Sincer,nu stiu.Pe romaneste,m-am aruncat ca gaina in gramada.Inteleg,nu puteam sa raman,sa stagnez,dar...tot nu-mi place.Mi-e groaza de tren din ce in ce mai mult,singurele lucruri in chip de consolare fiind un hanorac "patat" cu pisicute verzi si-o carte faina in mana.

Pe bune,nu credeam c-o sa ajung sa fac atatea,de la drumuri pana la lucruri.Intr-un fel,sunt mandra de mine si nu prea.Nu stiu,ma simt straina,straina de mine si de ceilalti,de spiritul pasionat si infometat care pare ca s-a dizolvat in marea nebunie a "marelui oras".Clar,am suflet de taranca,trebuie sa simt pamant sub picioare,nu asfalt.Sunt un hibrid neadaptat si-o fata cu vesnicul calendar pe buze: cinci pentru doua!Ah,zambete crispate,ce bine mascati plansul!Pana si oboseala mi se pare acum o nascocire pagana...

As vrea sa nu mai plec.

Familiar clues

I don't even know where to begin...Well,first of all,I'm home,which is always a good thing.Nice food,pleasant company,fluffy cats and most comforting scenery-can't I just stay here forever and ever and ever?Please,please,pretty please?I even feel smarter too!Can't understand why,but the "big city" isn't helping my intelligence/confidence marriage at all!Don't get me wrong,my family isn't from the Stone Age,on the contrary-it's just that I feel...intimidated?Yes,intimidated is the perfect word.All those brains and all those lips,I just can't compete with that-so I sit quietly and wallow in my own misery.Clever,aren't I?

My deduction skills are improving,though.It's understandable,considering I awkwardly walk and eat and talk to myself most of the time.It gives you a sort of dark power that surpasses knowledge,something you can sink your tired teeth into.Downside?The more I see,the more it hurts.Craving flaws in others only unravels my own blatant imperfection.And how much more can my cocoon last?Not pretty much,I can assure you.Oh,well...

I love wine.I really do.I mean,it makes everything better.And seemingly safer.And downright exquisite,damn it!Who cares about homework and the future anymore?Let's just dwell in an intoxicated state of mind,shall we?Everything would be better.And easier.And less frightening...Warm feet and pleased ears,do you agree?Of course you do.Why wouldn't you?You're as numbed and joyous as I am in this moment...

I don't want to let anybody down.Be a failure.A lost cause.But I also want to be happy,noticed,loved.How do I make these two sides meet?As we speak,things aren't looking that willing to cooperate.

Stay in the present,my dear!Let it all be!Now is what matters above all else...

All authors are frauds

all authors are frauds
and all their books are inked lies-
you can't articulate pain nor can you encompass beauty-
do you think yourself God,mirrored soul?
I'll let you in on a secret: the sunset belongs in the sky
and you should all be caged like the wounded wolves
that you portray-
why should I trust a soul more damaged than my own?
losing your dignity has its perks:
the curtains fall and the naked truth can now
perform in the middle of glorified filth;
seeking refuge in burlesque words,trembling sentences,
stained pages,what a demanding world!
I could just slap you all!
...then kiss you hard on the mouth,breathless and numb,
gnawing at a dark "thank you!" behind my lips;
blessed bastards,how you make my life an art,
my eyes saints and my insides warm!
a cursed miracle,all authors are frauds...

12 hours

Troubled sleep.Hurried coffee and tasteless bread.Cold tiles,cold air,cold heart.Annoying noise and disturbing motion.Distracted eyes and wrong stairs.Refuge in a book.Disrespect and an inferiority complex.Silent nerves.All the world's thoughts during the course of a few numb hours.Cement eyelids.The desire to know,the lack of will power to survive this academical and temporal test.Bad feelings.Fake smiles.Unwanted friends.Crippled insides.Stupid.Sealed lips.Damned feet.Creeping darkness.Subway meetings.Three for two.Unrequited niceness.Lost time and irretrievable energy.Freezing soles and wild water.Blank mind.Mechanical arms.Wonky position.Weary eyes that won't cooperate.The urge to never give up.Almost unconscious success.The appeal of familiar surroundings.Goodnight,12 hours worth of Hell!I'll never miss this broken shell...

"So crawl on my belly 'till the sun goes down

I'll never wear your broken crown!"

Hungry

When something's wrong,you try to fill up that void: food,drugs,music,art,you name it.A hungry black hole between your lungs demands sustenance,be it graceful...or not.You can't weep,you won't beg for love,you'd never tell it out loud-what then?Silence.Ache.Shameful eyes that won't look in any mirror.Distracted mind.You cling on to every single word of compassion,only to crumble like a rusty empire when rejection naturally comes your way.Who ever made us so damn dependent of each other?I swear,a crowd has never felt more lonesome!Same motion,same heartache...I'm starving!Love,real emotions,salty tears,innocent smiles,give me something!My hands are shaking and the view from this black chair isn't all that comforting: are my wishes too out of this world?I hope so.Then I could escape with them,far away,maybe...Maybe even home.

Blue ignorance

My bed's a mess.So is my face.Bitter coffee.Hasty hands.Twisting key.Marilyn's on the floor,all metal and broken pieces.A cold claw reaching towards my soles,my spine,my raggedy bones.Bare neck and fallen lips.No smile,nothing to deny.Self-imposed surrender.Busy subway.Strange strangers.Empty space.Dumb eyes.Unanswered questions.Will I ever feel important and witty again?Crackling flesh.Hurtful stomach.Blue ink.Drenched spirit.Fleeting understanding.Wavy motion.One unwilling foot in front of the other.Dark streets.Burnt bread.Inviting sheets.Timed rest.Papers,papers,papers.Obvious ignorance.Hallow brain.Empty heart.Rebel body.I don't want to give in!Words flowing like a tiresome river.Cold shover.Damned conscience.Tired feet.Disturbingly relatable songs.Weary eyelids.My life's a mess.

Smoldering senses

I can't catch a break,I can't catch my breath-
the sky's a blinding cage under which this body
twists and bends and weeps
like a wounded seagull;
an oozing sentiment predicts the end,
the blinding end,the end of pride,
wishful thinking and faith,my everything
dropped as sacrifice at the bottom of the sea;
see?nothing can last,not even time-
clocks burn beneath our feet,while minds die
inside wooden ghost ships in broad daylight;
I wish for sanity,for flawless bones,
for humid eyes,for tranquility,
for more than I could ever gather together
without staining my soul with sins;
predictions make me nervous,as do promises
and nightmares and petty hearts-
how long before this spirit cracks like a numbed branch?
I can't catch my breath,I can't catch a break...

Books,feathers and fears

Sunday sucks.No,for real,it actually does.Even before my "end of the week commuting experience",it had always been something dreadful and freakishly annoying for some reason.Now,well,everything's being multiplied by ten.Dear God,I know it's technically the first day of the week and all that,but I can't conceal my true feelings towards it,especially when it comes to You!The rush and last minute preparations and false eagerness,all for fear of not missing that damn train!

"But,Adriana,why do you do it then?Why don't you just stay there and come home once every two or three weeks?"Uhm,no.And fuck you,anonymous and strange voice in my head.The thought of coming home is what actually keeps me going,don't you get it?Jesus Christ,I count the days...starting with Monday!I don't like my new lifestyle and that's that!There,I said it.Ugh!I'm so screwed...

So I resort to a trade: five for two.It's not fair,but what is in this world?Funny thing,though,is what I bring back to conceal my "free prison": posters,jewelry,pictures,quotes,bits and pieces from the past to make the present more bearable.Silly,isn't it?Silly and emotionally necessary.

I don't know,I've grown colder and quieter.Books don't give off the same passionate perfume,while my brain refuses to find comfort in imagination.It's amazing how lonely one can feel at the end of the day in a city full of life and people.

Watching pigeons fly and my own feathery earring twirling in the wind raises a question: is it better to be earthbound or addicted to the sky?Heaven knows and Hell forbids knowing.

I wish I could cry right now,let it all out.But no.I'm rotting on the inside,you can tell.

Alas!I am dead.

Black legs

I've seen this picture before.I'm experiencing heartache once more.Why do I perceive my emotions as being fake?A plastic shell over a raw core.My legs are black,my emotions on repeat mode.Nothing's as it used to be.I feel...drained.Here is my sanctuary,my freezing bliss.I wish Hell would freeze over.Just saying...You know what my drug is now?Sound.I feel deprived of natural noises and ear riots.It all seems like a peculiar paradox,considering I dwell in an environment built upon movement,action and rush.Yet everything,from walls to pages to faces,comes through as an asylum.That creepy,eerie sensation that something bad's about to happen,something that you can't control...Not here,though.Here...Here is what I have for a few fleeting moments that make it worthwhile.My energy.My sustenance for those hours when I'm not myself anymore,but a breathing carcass.Lost!Lost!Lost in an impersonal experience which has no name and no body.You get better by identifying your problem,right?Well,I can't.I can't put my trembling finger on the devil that's haunting me.It's too fast...So this is where I actually live: my home,my family,my memories.No lies,no false hopes of adaptation.In my ugly clothes,with my messed up hair,in my worn out bed.Music fills me up again like a soothing river,food nurtures me properly.I can actually breathe the air I know!You could give me a billion reasons to "let go",but my answer would remain the same: "No".This is what I truly have,nothing less,nothing more.And I feel blessed and cursed at the same time.Even so,I wouldn't give up my soul for all the knowledge and power in the world...