Everything for free...

“I don’t know who you are…”

There are moments in your life when you just want to die.

.
“But you seem very nice…”

The pain is so immense that you don’t even want it to go away anymore.

.
“So will you talk to me?”

Because you know that there’s no way for it to ever disappear.

.

“Shall I tell you a story?”
No way to ever forget it.
.

“Should I tell you a dream?”

And the worst part is that…

.

“They think I’m crazy…”
… you are all alone when this happens.
.

“But they don’t know that I like it here…”
Truth be told, we all end up alone in moments like these.
.

“It’s nice in here…”

And we eventually accept it.

.

“I get everything for free…”
Most of the times, we accept it for someone else, though.
.

“Have you been here before?”

We make a sacrifice.

..

“Shall I show you around?”
Because, come to think of it…
.

“It’s very pretty…”

… it’s way easier to bear your own pain…

.

“Have you come here to stay?”
… than to see the one you love dealing with it all.
.

“Well, you sure picked a day…”

Way easier to walk away…

.

“My name is Billy…”
… than to stay and let the other one suffer.
.

“It's my birthday, you're invited to my party down the hall…”

Not easy.

.

“Where I go, what I'll become or who I am or what I'll be…”
Just easier…
.

“I’ll never know…”

Selfless, if you will…

.

“But I am sure that I’ll get everything for free…”

... and books on the table.

I miss that girl who used to write from dusk till dawn, and tame the thoughts she had.

I miss the ruffled hair and the sleepless nights.

I miss my voice, and I miss my stories.

And most of all, I miss my smile.

And us.

There was a time when nothing could go wrong.

There were nights when writing felt a part of me.

There were tears I cried and smiles I smiled, and they all made sense in my stories.

And I could write.

In another life, I was a queen.

And then I was a beggar.

And a fox.

And a rabbit.

My hair was long and my eyes were black.

And then I went to sleep.

And never woke up.

Time grew me branches and roots once.

And then a horse found me. He used to come visit me every day.

But when summer came, the sun set me on fire.

And then I had to learn how to fly.

I don't know where I've been all this time.

Or what I've done.

Or who I've met or loved or spoke to.

I never hated anyone; hatred is too much of a ... dirty and mean feeling for me to actually accept it.

I once met a girl and she told me a story about whales.

So I travelled around the world and searched for some.

And one day a man told me that whales don't like people anymore.

It was a sad and shocking thing to say, so I searched even harder.

And then I found a lonely whale and I made friends with her.

Mom always told me I was strange.

Of course I never listened to her.

But now, after so many lives, after so many thoughts I thought of, after loving, and dancing, and smiling, and crying, and drawing, and singing, and writing, and us, I think that she might have been right all along.

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Today I learnt that every question has an answer, if you know who to ask and where to search.

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Listening to: Vita de Vie - Praf de Stele

Reading: Getting Rid Of Matthew

Watching: America's Next Top Model Cycle 12, Episode 10

Playing: Chuzzle

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Am o poveste citita, o soapta zidita

Si praf de stele pe hainele mele

Si-as vrea sa culeg stropi de vant

Sa-i arunc pe pamant, sa devina cuvant.

(Vita de Vie - Praf de Stele)

*Click to download song.