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....