Back or not?

Si au trecut mai mult de 3 ani! Bine ai revenit printre noi, copil plapand, copil sarac, copil bogat, copil ciudat; 3 ani in care ai crescut frumos, te-ai schimbat, ai devenit femeie, poate totusi doar cateodata.

******************************Singuratate in intrebari*********************************
- Si ai ramas iar singura?
- Pai da, se intampla des in ultimul timp, e ca un joc de copii la care mereu pierd startul...
- Si... Te doare tare?
- Uneori, uneori simt ca ma sufoc, dar sunt mai multi factori care se completeaza aici, nu e doar el de vina, bine este si el, el este principalul motiv, de el ma agatam de ceva timp!
- Il iubesti? L-ai iubit?
- Da! Dar iubesc un copil, se poate numi o astfel de iubire, "iubire" sau doar atasament?
- Tu sa-mi spui asta, fa o pauza, cugeta si raspunde-mi la intrebare.
- Ai timp?
- Tot timpul din lume!
- Atunci sa incepem...

Eu

It comes and goes in waves...

Aud mereu versurile astea in mintea mea, poate pentru ca partea matura a firii mele, a mici Indra incorporate acolo a invatat ca toata viata asta se desfasoara in valuri, ca uneori atingi soarele, alteori te arde, uneori atingi pamantul, alteori simti ca te intorci la origini, in tarana simpla, cruda si nemuritoare...

De un an intreg am incercat sa fug de mine, am incercat sa nu scriu, sa ridic un zid si sa stau acolo la panda, incep sa cred ca aceasta strategie a fost total gresita si ca prezumtiile pe care mi-am construit aceasta ipoteza total eronata au prost fondate. Am sa las aceasta foame sa ma consume, sa ma contopeasca cu un alter-ego al meu, cu ceea ce eram candva si pentru prima data in 2 ani am sa scriu despre ceea ce simt. Am sa va las sa vedeti cine sunt, cine am ajuns, ce iubesc, ce doresc, sa-mi vizualizati temerile, sa zambiti in fata esecurilor, sa sorbiti iluzia succesului pe care inca nu l-ati simtit.

Am crezut ca ma voi ridica la ceea ce sunt eu luptand cu mine dar poate ca de fapt trebuie sa incetez a ma uri pe mine, a ma rani si a privi in jur...

Vad oameni multi mai speriati si mai nesiguri, care spre deosebire de mine nu-si vocifereaza aceste mici nesigurante; eu m-am obisnuit sa-mi ofer inima pe o tava, dar o data cu aceasta ofranda adusa in cinstea prieteniei sau iubirii, dezvalui si partea pe care ceilalti prefera sa o acopere cu multe alte "jocuri de lumina si culoare", aceste jocuri ii distorsoniaza, ii schimba, isi pierd fondul si ajung precum Dorian Grey sa fie condusi de instinct si superficialitate. Poate ca de fapt rana mea putrezeste in fiecare zi pentru ca nu ma tratez singura, poate ca nu sunt eu cea care cauzeaza asta, poate ca sunt ceilalti, poate ca ma consuma, poate ca ii las sa ma consume, nu mi-am protejat niciodata formele mele, entitatea care ma tine in viata, flacara asta, nu am apreciat-o, nu am sanctificat-o ca sa creasca in intesitate, sa ma incalzeasca si am ramas asa rece si singura si degeaba tipam dupa ajutor cand eram "tightly locked" from inside out...

Si am incercat prea mult sa dansez la fel ca ei, sa "blend in" sa ma conformez, sa reactionez la unii stimuli, sa fie in limitele normalului si nu inteleg cum am putut sa fiu asa de oarba si naiva... Eu nu sunt asa, eu sunt eu, si trebuie sa-mi aduc aminte de toate lucrurile din trecut care ma faceau sa tresar, sa zambesc, sa fac toate lucrurile sa mearga bine pentru ca sunt eu, asa cum sunt, cu defecte, cu vise, cu parti din mine ancorate aici pe pamant, altele in spatiu sau poate chiar si intr-un alt univers paralel... Si atunci stiam ca e suficient sa fiu eu si ca totul va fi bine, ca nu trebuie sa ajung la un compromis cu ceilalti, ca trebuie sa ma accept si sa-i las pe altii sa ma accepte, ca modul lor de viata nu e al meu, ca nu trebuie sa ma compar, sa fiu " din unghiul lor potrivita ". Oamenii sunt de fapt asa de simpli, sunt mecanisme vii care isi reprima emotiile si isi standardizeaza fiinta lor in algoritmi, in bucle continue de experiente si repeta si functioneaza toti la fel. " Frumusetea, iubirea, inteligenta, creativitatea, visul, placerea, copilaria, fericirea sunt toate puse intr-o vitrina si privind pretul stim de fapt ce vom alege dar nu stim de fapt ce vrem, ce ne place, ce ne face pe noi sa facem click...

Reasons to live

I'm trying to find reasons to stay alive,  and I can't find any.
Sunt dezamagita de toti oamenii si de toate lucrurile din jurul, mi-e scarba de toti and it feels like there's a worm eating me alive...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6fVE8kSM43I

Un sentiment de scarba, de mine, te tot, de oameni, de falsuri, de fericire in definitiv sfarsesti in acelasi loc, in aceleasi mizerii manjit in hainele tale pompoase.
Si urasc cand mi se spune sa ma ridic, e asa de clicheica chestia, e ca un ecou surd, ca o voce de soprana care sparge paharul din care urma sa sorbi sampania nuntii tale...Daca exista ceva acel lucru se numeste CONFORMARE, a se defini mai precis ca fiind acel inghitit in sec si mers mai departe datorita unor posibilitati care lipsesc substantial. Dar hai sa ne prefacem, am ajuns asa de talentati la asta ca abia daca mai stim cand zambim pentru noi insine si e o ironic pentru ca "noi" de fapt inseamna a singulariza si deja ne pierdem tot mai tare...
Dintre toti care spuneti ca va pasa, ca ma intelegeti, oare cati spune-ti asta cu adevarat? Cati de fapt nu aveti in spate motive ascunse, sau faceti asta din mila, plictiseala sau ca o indatorire si e jenant sa realizezi ca de fapt nu ne pasa de altii, tot de noi ne pasa mai mult.

Non Sinusoidal Waves of Emotions

Yeah, it's official, it's hectic and endless and "That my friend is university for you...". Should of been used to this by now, sleepless nights, "faint trace of makeup" but under my eyes, coffee taken by force, not by will and so many other wonderful aspects of being a fully responsible grown up and I'm just about to say "I'm done with it...."

And yet it's different, I feel alive, I struggle, I fall most of the times but when I get up, hell, when I get up it feels like I've defeated the Reapers, conquered Europe, witnessed the fall of the Roman Empire, kicked Diablo in his sorry ass (excuse the language, 2 a.m. in the morning, in a few hours I have an exam, one which I will probably fail not due to my lack of study, no no... due to the fact that I am a terribly unlucky person, I can't prove things when I'm asked to and I definitely just can't keep my head up after so many sessions of night studying). And I'm distracted, I want to play games, I want to create games, one of the reasons I work myself like this, I wanna be there working for Bioware, I wanna run away and sit again on the top of the roof and watch the stars all night (cause now I have new glasses), I wanna read, I wanna do so many other things and I'm kept on the ground having to study which is fine, I like it (probably said that already) I just hate having to prove things, being checked by everyone, answering all those annoying questions " So how much did you score..." - Bleh.

I should go to bed, right? Fact is I can't shut down my mind, I'm tired but apparently I'm not.

Yeah this is being alive.Acknowledged.
Shepard out.

They said she didn't know how to love

Mi s-a spus ca nu stiu sa iubesc si probabil ca e adevarat, ei stiu mai bine. Si totusi, parca nu e asa. Am realizat ca nu mai cred in iubire, ca pe masura ce timpul trece iubesc tot mai putin si mai putin, plapand... estompat, asemeni primaverii ce trebuie sa vina la timp si mereu intarzie. Ma decalez, si sfarsesc de fapt altundeva, pe un alt taram. Un taram in care iubirea mea este eterna, economica, rezistenta, falnica, impunatoare si demna. Toate amintirile sunt acolo, toate gesturile pe care nu le-am trait la o anumita intensitate, raman, dainuiesc chiar si dupa ce eu ma sting din sufletele voastre. Si da, gresesc...sunt om si ma agat de perfectiune, de dorinta de a fi mai buna si sfarsesc prin a distruge tot ce ating. Nu e un lucru voit, dar asta nu conteaza, nu? Da, este o linie trasata in jurul meu care tine oamenii la distanta, pe cei normali...Pe cei mai viteji, care din cand in cand incearca sa o treaca, ii seaca. Sunt imposibil de iubit, sunt doar "fuel" o chestie care arde intens, scap printre degete, existenta mea ii taie sau poate ca pur si simplu fac ceea ce fac mereu- cand ma simt bine, ma proptesc pe un perete cu spatele apasand intrerupatorul....
Sau poate ca am uitat sa ma bucur de lucrurile mici, poate ca nu mai gasesc confort in iubire, poate ca sunt oarba, poate vreau mai mult... Candva, erau lucruri in viata mea care ma ridicau si zburam in fiecare zi, acum nici macar nu mai am curajul sa-mi privesc aripile, le-am sfartecat si eu in nenumerate randuri, la fel ca toti ceilalti. Erau dimineti in care eram somnoroasa, vroiam sa dorm mai departe, radeam cand incerca mama sa ma trezeasca, eram lenesa, dar acum nici macar somnul nu-si mai face efectul, nici macar nu mai lupt sa dorm mai mult... Ci execut aceleasi miscari pe care mi le-am programat, over and over again si nu exista o conditie care sa ma scoata din aceasta rutina, nu exista o salvare....
Poate ca de fapt nu ne salveaza nimeni, poate ca suferim precum cainii in noapte, indeajuns incat sa realizam ca trebuie sa ne lingem singur ranile. Da, nu exista nimeni acolo care sa ma salveze, poate ca nu merit, sau... poate ca nu ma aude nimeni...
Nici macar nu exista o persoana care sa citeasca ce scriu acum, e doar un alt monolog cu mine in noapte, incercand sa ma aduc inapoi la viata din moarte clinica...

Fragments of imagination

Wrap surgical knots around my brain
Kill my urge to dream, choke my passion to the ground
Delay my motionless escape to this land I've built inside a frame.
For I have lost the will to live, I'd die in your arms without a sound.

Her mind is a book I never want to finish

Chase my dreams and kill them slowly
Watching her move with her everlasting grace
In her embrace I find myself lonely
She's broken, torn, mutilated her loving face
Spells scars that deep have been inside for ages
Expecting the return of soothing days
I will forever be trapped in her ripped pages...

Damage

It's been a while since I last felt so lost, so hopeless, insignificant, useless and pathetic but part of being human is getting to this point where you realize you've been stripped all of positive emotions. You find yourself on the ground, staring at their tall figures, realizing they've been climbing on top of you all this time, feeding off you, dreaming your dreams, devouring your light, leaving you motionless and paralyzed. But this doesn't change your demeanor, you're still there, unchanged, barely alive. You only know it's too late when you realize there's nothing in this world that you'd want, nothing that would make you stay, nothing besides morals and respect, but what are those when in fact you're dead inside?

Usually I'm the one that drives myself into this state, but this time is different. This time I got consumed, I lost too much fuel, been depleted...
It may sound silly, but to those who played Mass Effect 2, this reference may not sound odd at all. I wish I died, crossing space and getting reconstructed afterwards in order to start again...The only thing I can think about right now is that scene...Shepherd getting everyone to safety, saving everyone and dying during the process, drifting into space, suffocating, alone, scared, desperate....

Probably I'm lame for posting this, but actually I don't care anymore, struggled too much to make things perfect, tried far too long to make the right choices but people will always drag you down regardless of their reasons...

Another reason why I posted this is because I thought it has been a while since I last indulged myself into these kind of activities and I used to love writing.

[link] -- "Leaving Earth..."

Facultate

The place where you learn how to live when you're dead.

Viata asta te intoarce pe toate partile si da cu tine de pamant doar pentru a se amuza. De multe ori am crezut ca fiecare isi atrage “simpatia” vietii, insa de multe ori, nu conteaza cine esti, de unde vii si ce faci, rahaturile ti se intampla si n-ai ce face. In general, aceste rahaturi sunt accentuate persoanelor cu un anumit grad de constiinta. Ma simt parasita, ingradita, lipsita de culoare, de forma, de sens, ma simt moarta pe dinauntru, aninata doar de obligatii, suferinta si responsabilitati. Deschid ochii cu scarba, privesc in jurul meu cu dezamagire si traiesc de multe ori cu speranta ca va fi ultima zi, insa nu e… Nici nu stiu daca ar mai conta, mereu voi fi singura, mereu sunt eu contra lumii, mereu sunt sanctionata indifferent de circumstante sau de dorinte.

Everything that defines me as a human being has left me empty and hallow. I walk amongst people but I find myself surrounded by strangers which once were supposedly my friends. I am fed up with myself, there must be a reason why I always end up alone.

Sfarsitul meu este inceputul tau

In ultimul timp, sentimentele mele au trecut pe default, nu mai cred in copilarie, zambete, inocenta - am crescut.
Dar oare exista iubire sau ma amagesc si acum cu vise colorate, admirand de fapt pelicula de praf de pe varful pantofului meu?
Se spune ca abis-ul contine deopotriva si fericirea si nefericirea in palma ei stanga, ca prapastia dintre cele doua se pierde vag in departarea dulce a liniilor pielii...
Si atunci ma intreb de fapt : Cine sunt? Ce caut? Ce vreau? Ce iubesc? De ce exist? Si din nou, ca si atunci, ca si mereu, gasesc sens in nonsens. Dar am pierdut speranta, increderea, tot ceea ce ma definea, toate aceste lucruri s-au ascuns de mine si-mi refuza accesul...
De ce oare este atat de greu sa scrii : Imi vine sa tip? De ce trebuie durerea sa fie poetica? De ce trebuie sa modeleze sentimente ce iti sfarama sufletul cu fiecare fasie de aer pe care o respiri?
Ca sa nu vorbesc de exemplificare, de tradare, ignoranta, egoism, orgoliu...Si uite asa a inceput sfarsitul meu. Am plecat si nu ma pot intoarce, singura bucatica ce inca ma mai reprezinta, alunga posibilitatea intoarcerii si spera, aspira la schimbare...

I've grown fond of simple things, most basic needs since I had the opportunity to learn what loosing truly means.
I feel my insides scattering and resonating throughout my entire body, violently toying with my mind as I feel the end growing tighter.
Then it shifts, a soft and dying ray of sunshine blinds the depths of these dark thoughts, thoughts of despair, death and blood.
So tell me what can me more horrifying than realizing there's no way out... You can see feelings floating all around you, you can see others feeling but you cannot feel the faintest bit of them... But you have to agree, join the game and survive at times even put off a lovely show which involves smiling, joking, talking about all of these as if they truly have sense, as if you're not in it because it's a one way choice.
You are given life, and from that point on you are fidgeting inside chosen parameters without the possibility of checking out. It's funny how death can never be your own option, everyone thinks it's sane or normal to suffer a natural death or simply die by someone's hands. We'd rather put our last breath in God's hands or someone else's, either way it's called fate, a cruel one which you have to abide.
With no opportunity of climbing back up, life defines another "parameter". It's called waiting and it pretty much means looking for someone to clean up the mess, in this case the mess is ME.
And the worst part is meeting someone who would willingly, not to mention gladly, pull you up and place some meaning back in this forsaken chaos, but failing in doing so, since the burden would weigh greatly over their shoulders. To make it simple, nomatter how much we'd like to help, that much weight would just crush anything and anyone in their way.
But I've turned philosophical and that has never been my purpose. My one and sole purpose however, has always been primordial. I wanted to walk this path with a wise smile on my face, at times in the company of the ONE. My forsaken, my darling cursed...
How hard must have been for him, seeing me fall like this, changing so rapidly and radically, nurturing the consent, any type or form of it as belief or hope for change in those who can never be changed.
I close this chapter, I feel I failed in portraying my fall, I failed to relate the true reasons why I am on the ground, helpless and alone in this darkest hour, with barely no one to witness my dying candle light....

Lipsa de inspiratie

E grav, starea mea e grava, e una de hmm...dificil de spus, da...e una dificila, ma rotesc in cercuri concentrice in jurul meu, uneori ma privesc din unghiuri diferite, dar ma invart mai departe.
Ecouri. Ecouri are cuvintelor mele, sperante, vise care si ele plutesc intr-o stare amneziaca.
Ma intreb: Sunt oare eu? Sau reflexia mea in oglinda?
Ma ghideaza un instinct, e acela de autoconservare, urasc sa execut ordine, sa scriu despre ceva care imi zgarie interiorul mintii doar pentru ca trebuie sa fie un raspuns etic, un raspuns perfect in ochii societatii.
Oricum e o inselatorie, a scrie doar de dragul de a scrie, oricum acele fiinte nu ar scrie nici o scrisoare daca n-ar fi obligatorie...De ce sa storci zeama unui fruct trecut? De ce sa fim ceva ce nu suntem...
Si totusi limbajul e un impediment, unul chiar imediat. De ce se numeste "Limba si literatura romana" cand singura referire la acest subiect e aprecierea "de comun acord" sau de nici un fel de acord a ta cu a defunctului parere, mai conteaza ce a spus el? Mai conteaza ce a spus el privit prin prisma unor oameni care modeleaza suflete pe bani? Dar societatea ma constrange...."Scrie draga mea...e un examen, toti am trecut prin el." Stiu, asta e si ideea ca nu putem face chiar tot ce ne place, dar oare este relevant ceea ce facem? Intrebarea asta o ridica cineva din cand in cand? Daca ajung sa ma uit la o coala alba de hartie din fata mea mai mult de 10 minute fara sa scriu nimic pentru ca am prea multe reguli de luat in vedere, oare nu am pierdut deja? Oare nu mi-ati ucis deja geniul, nu l-ati ratacit intr-o padure intunecata deja, cum spunea poetul Dante?
Parerea mea, parerea mea...ce cuvinte marete, te imping cumva sa faci orice sub pretextul ca e bine oricum, sau nu e bine deloc... Si las oarecum aceste cuvinte si incerc sa scriu din nou ce a vrut sa spuna Nichita Stanescu prin "Suntem ceea ce iubim" sub forma de 30 de randuri, nu mai mult, cu doar 3 maxim 4 alineate in cuvinte adecvate pe care le furam si observ ca tot nu stiu ce sa scriu, e ca o inchisoare literara. Hmm...au mai trecut 10 minute si foaia e tot goala...

My memory

Why do all good things have to end one way or another? Why can't we just preserve the moment and always treasure it?

One moment you have wings, flying as high as the sun allows you to, the next one you find yourself barely hanging on, barely surviving the storm. In the end it all comes back to the memory. "Memory is the Treasury of all Things" - Cicero, I never gave any thought to this sentence, not until today, not until I have violently understood that my only thing in the end will be my memory. Three stones guard these words in a park called Rufford Abbey in England, as heavy as they may seem at first, you only realise the burden as it strucks later on in life.

"Flames to dust..." that's what we will be in the end, nothing lasts forever, but my illusion will. I still want to believe I live my dream, I don't want to wake up and face the cold, I don't want to try and recover all the shattered pieces of myself. I am all over the ground, facing everything upside down. Tiny, small, fading... But everyones says "You are still yourself, all the treasures are inside yourself, move on... make other memories so you won't feel the cold old ones anymore, move one....evolve" Just words spinning round' and round' inside my mind and heart.

And it feels like when you meet the right person it's not gravity that holds you on to earth anymore, it's her or him. Kay deal with that, let me see you deal with that, let me see how you like the logical gravity back, let me see you move on like a fish on the sea shore. Can you? Let me see you turning back to a statue, get back the honour, but lose yourself, lose your charm, the magic...

They say " It's okay dear, you are human in the end... it's okay to stumble sometimes, hence...you're just a baby. More or less." And I reply " I like being human, I don't mind that...but about the stumbling, I loathe it, I despise it, I'd rather be on two feet all the time then switching when life feels like it. I'm no remote control, nor a machine, I am just myself whoever that is. May no one read this...but I know, in the end we all feel like this sometimes, more...or... less...

Un sentiment de primavara

Vai... am realizat cu stupoare cat de mult "modernism" denota blog-ul meu ce si-a inceput ascensiunea nedorita spre tarmurile engleze. Deci, m-am hotarat sa mai colorez putin suprafata interioara a gandurilor mele si in concluzie sa fac un "update" a informatiilor despre mine.

Anul 2010 si-a lasat deja amprenta in viata mea de mai bine de 3 luni, si, privind inapoi nu stiu daca observ ceata cea de mult apusa, ori caldura ce imi izbesta fiinta. Uneori credem ca suntem manati de instinct, alteori e insa mai usor sa nu hoinaresti fara un tel, cert este ca, societatea nu paseste, ci merge...In concluzie mergem si noi in rand cu ea. Poate nu suna pasnic dar uneori am impresia ca sunt tarata cu forta. Alteori sunt doar prea obosita sa gandesc si deci ma supun imprejurarilor. In schimb, sunt zile agasante, in care vreau sa devin propriul meu arhitect si sa-mi proiectez viata.

A venit primavara, e drept, a venit de ceva timp insa am impresia ca tot vine si eu o tot primesc.

Primavara te astept, nu fi timida. Fi blanda.

The thoughts of a girl

Time waits for no one. Its trail reveals the silent echoes of the present or of the forgotten past that some of us are scarcely trying to deny, which pains us the most. But actually it’s not the ephemeral existence of time that we fear, but the untouched thoughts that were not given life at the right time. For some, just mere words, as for others life itself drawn by facts. Sometimes I ask myself “Did you even had the time to admire the rainbow today, Indra? How long has it been since you last shed tears of joy over little insignificant things?” isn’t that the very essence of fulfillment that makes us happy? Why do we seem so keen to forget what life is all about? Why do we purposely throw away everything that once brought us balance just to thirst for it in the end? Is that the outstanding way that we humans use to evolve? “ Time waits for no one … “ how much this thought startled my mind, it seems as if we grow old of thinking not by committing sins. The soul dies, the senses feel remorse and we shut down from the only real things that once seemed real. What if we were too young to be born in the first place? When can we know for sure the right time to engulf the universe?
Tell me, what part of me changed, what chord has time struck over the last few weeks, months, years? Have I grown tired of waiting or keen of giving? I want to explode and seed all the feelings that have withered inside me. But then again it’s not only about me, I want to let my seeds wander inside of other people, all of whom I love and care for. One door closes and one opens still I have never found an alternative to time… an alternative to repair what was once destroyed...

Afraid

I can clearly remember some of the words that used to make my heart shudder because of the strong emotions I felt. But they have long been forgotten; It's not because I have changed too much, but because everything around me has changed. How can you still be the little girl you once been when you realise the clothes you wear are utterly big compared to the ones you used to wear. Sometimes we look for the wrong place when it comes to defining our personality, in the end we all have an old attic to deposit all sorts of things, your old self may be well one of "the clothes" you once wore.
I'm not even sure if we get wiser in time or we just have less energy to spend on emotions. Speaking of which, I remember an old joke a friend used to say " When you're 20 and you miss the bus, you run to catch it; When you're 30 and you miss the bus, you just calmly wait for the next one, running is not worth the trouble anymore; When you're 40 and you miss the bus ( supposing you still have to use one) you throughly take a taxi to work or just take a taxi to a next available bus station..." It has been a while since I realised how right he was. We don't get wiser, smarter, luckier...We undoubtly get too tired to follow the same track in our judgemental universe, as we get older. Inevitable, it's a bitter drink we all have to endure.
You may wonder what's my point, right? Now then let me explain: Since I do not fit any of the criteria ages I have spoken about, I would be the person who takes a walk to the next bus station, too afraid to wait, too aware of the biting cold.
Why do we stop loving the same once we get hurt? Even though, we find the right person, we are afraid to dream as we used to dream, we fear our lack of trust so we don't even bother offering it anymore. Yes of course, we do not stop loving, it would be impossible, but everytime we do, it's the effect of previous measured thoughts, linked together by past and probable future events. When we say " Yes, I'll marry you..."we seem inlove, blisfully happy, like the world is ours, but we actually feel that nothing is ours, we're sure of the fact that we're walking on thin ice, and when we say those big words in return, we're too tired to enjoy the real facts. I'm tired of wanting to see the world as perfect as I did before, I would have never had second thoughts about anyone who said they loved me; now I'm a coward, I avoid the circumstance, I avoid hearing those words, I know they mean trouble...I'm just like a bird, I don't mind coming closer if you seem like offering me love/happiness/the food of the soul, but once you make sudden move I'll definitely fly away...

First day of this year, no sleep, its 6 a.m for me.

And I am the happiest human being on earth right now. I just spoke on the phone with him ^-^ I feel like my batteries have been charged with 3 hours of sleep. Did I mention that the light coming from the monitor seems brighter? And...everything seems much more vivid and clear. Effects of the drug called love I guess. !!!

1. Rain for New Year's Eve (c'mon>.>) 2. Of course I had to eat fish and I didn't like it.
3. My box of matches didn't came in handy when I needed it most 4. How can you stay up untill 3-4 a.m every single morning and doze off when it's important? 5. To feel bad without drinking an entire glass of beer, which of course... never happened before.
-------------------- Lamish New Year's Eve evaaah, not to mention that I was kinda alone, just one " Congratulations and bla bla with mum and then I was like ok...That was odd. People I had expected to call didn't ( but of course ), people I had expected to answer my text messages also didn't, which bugged me even more cause I wasted energy typing when I could have watched a film or do anything funny. Next year I'll definitely act likewise. Merry Jolly New Year.
Oh yeah, the only fun I had was with these crazy little stuff. ( fireworks and I have just posted one photo taken today )

That certain somebody has trully made my day special, even though I thought it would turn out as the worse day ever. It's funny how sometimes the smallest things have the greatest impact on us. Just the right word at the right time and voila you can feel your heart drumming inside your chest. The other feeling that subsides love is yearning, a certain need, which keeps us wanting more, wanting and wanting up to the point of our evolution as a human being.
Sometimes I just feel like everything is just a dream, my perfect dream and sometimes I just don't want to wake up. These moments are worth living, worth living because of you, because of your existence.
Don't let me wake up please...

For My Love. "Now you are my life "

I didn't even glance at the doors. There was nothing else in the world but him again -his arms curled under me, his sweet breath on my face, his lips just inches from mine-and there was nothing that could distract me now, newborn vampire or not.
"We're going to tell Alice that I ran right to the clothes," I whispered, twisting my fingers into his hair and pulling my face closer to his. "We're going to tell her I spent hours in there playing dress-up. We're going to lie"
He caught up to my mood in an instant, or maybe he'd already been there, and he was just trying to let me fully appreciate my birthday present, like a gentleman. He pulled my face to his with a sudden fierceness, a low moan in his throat. The sound sent the electric current running through my body into a near-frenzy, like I couldn't get close enough to him fast enough.
I heard the fabric tearing under our hands, and I was glad my clothes, at least, were already destroyed. It was too late for his. It felt almost rude to ignore the pretty white bed, but we just weren't going to make it that far.
This second honeymoon wasn't like our first.
Our time on the island had been the epitome of my human life. The very best of it. I'd been so ready to string along my human time, just to hold on to what I had with him for a little while longer. Because the physical part wasn't going to be the same ever again.
I should have guessed, after a day like today, that it would be better.
I could really appreciate him now -could properly see every beautiful line of his perfect face, of his long, flawless body with my strong new eyes, every angle and every plane of him. I could taste his pure, vivid scent on my tongue and feel the unbelievable silkiness of his marble skin under my sensitive fingertips.
My skin was so sensitive under his hands, too.
He was all new, a different person as our bodies tangled gracefully into one on the sand-pale floor. No caution, no restraint. No fear -especially not that. We could love together- both active participants now. Finally equals.
Like our kisses before, every touch was more than I was used to. So much of himself he'd been holding back. Necessary at the time, but I couldn't believe how much I'd been missing.
I tried to keep in mind that I was stronger than he was, but it was hard to focus on anything with sensations so intense, pulling my attention to a million different places in my body every second; if I hurt him, he didn't complain.
A very, very small part of my head considered the interesting conundrum presented in this situation. I was never going to get tired, and neither was he. We didn't have to catch our breath or rest or eat or even use the bathroom; we had no more mundane human needs. He had the most beautiful, perfect body in the world and I had him all to myself, and it didn't feel like I was ever going to find a point where I would think, Now I've had enough for one day. I was always going to want more. And the day was never going to end. So, in such a situation, how did we ever stop?
It didn't bother me at all that I had no answer....

nights in white satin

My current state is starting to seem less and less interesting, not to mention amusing. I thought everything has an end but it seems there are some things which manage to avoid that. I wish I could avoid disappointment, insomnia, sadness; No, it's not lame, it's too casual and plain. In the end what really matters is how I fight and deal with everything coming in my life at this point. Again no, love has never left me for real, just took a long and necessary holiday for my own and personal content.

"Nights in white satin, never reaching the end,
Letters I've written, never meaning to send.
Beauty I'd always missed with these eyes before.
Just what the truth is, I can't say anymore.

Gazing at people, some hand in hand,
Just what I'm going through they can't understand.
Some try to tell me, thoughts they cannot defend,
Just what you want to be, you will be in the end.

And I love you, yes I love you,

Nights in white satin, never reaching the end,
Letters I've written, never meaning to send.
Beauty I've always missed, with these eyes before.
Just what the truth is, I can't say anymore.

Breath deep
The gathering gloom
Watch lights fade
From every room
Bedsitter people
Look back and lament
Another day's useless
Energy spent

Impassioned lovers
Wrestle as one
Lonely man cries for love
And has none
Senior citizens
Wish they were young

Cold hearted orb
That rules the night
Removes the colours
From our sight
Red is gray and
Yellow white
But we decide
Which is right
And
Which is an Illusion"

Behind brown Eyes

Yes, it may seem unfair, for me to say I feel hated or faded...So many people have it worse, but actually how can we be sure about that? Are we interested in them? Do we know their sorrows just because we seem them falling apart in front of us? There are so many things behind each thought, then how can we be sure there aren't other, more powerful and ragged stuff pilled up inside or behind a normal smile.I can admit it, I have never believed there was such a large scale of different problems all with the same prospect or treatment. And still you don't know how it will affect you. Unfortunately, the only people that may know how to describe this feeling, are those who had been on the ground, those strong, independent creatures who may as well be described as "above the average human being". Nevertheless, it must hard to accept such a meaningful compliment, isn't it? It's like telling yourself that, in order to become a successful bank manager you have to be torn into little pieces, scattered around the floor and then stomped on. Who would agree to such a cruel and brutal fate? It doesn't seem as a fair price at all... And to be honest, no one gives a damn if the floor was clean or not, we might not even know if somebody did it on purpose, toyed with us, playing with the key pieces of our puzzle. But in the end, when you realise you are, just a fragment of the biggest nothing you had ever imagined, what would you do? You don't even have a face, your heart is just an emotional record on tiny bit of memory, we can as well call it, individual cd. Yes of course...We could blame it on someone else, but then again, he's far away, maybe eating a hot dog, or sleeping on the sofa, who knows? Nothing would turn that useless thought away, words as " He'll get his share of problems " will seem relunctant, almost disturbing and empty. We truly are individualists, aware of it or not, how can we experience an unconditioned love, when we are so eager to receive affection/trust/protection and yes...love. Who does actually realise that one of the most important things on earth is how/when will you discover yourself, most of us, just think and spend time fantasizing about less complicated ways, if not effortless ways of enjoying the ride. Come to think of it, that's the reason why I had always hated cheap lines head in film, like : " Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome on board, please put on your seatbelt on and enjoy the ride...", oh how these words had tortured me in every possible and it will also torture you, my dear strangers, but it will wait for that prescise moment when you feel like everything is going smooth for unknown reasons...Wrong answer...So many of you, might now ask themselves the question: " Ok...So what's the point?". Well my point is stop searching for a point, or you'll just end up with this huge headache like I did...People will always mess it up, it's part of the cleaning process...