asa, degeaba.

... deci bai asta. nu, in pula mea, nu imi este bine. si nu, nu o sa fiu okay. si nu, nu stiu ce o sa fie. si naiba sa o ia de treaba, bai boule, nu stiu atat de multe lucruri ca ma simt mai prost decat m-as simti daca ar trebui sa vorbesc despre inovatiile din domeniul constuctiilor purtand doar niste agrafe prin par si goliciunea-mi pe de-a-ntregul in fata tuturor muncitorilor necalificati din univers. si a sefilor lor. si a cersetorilor.
dar oricat de uimitor ar parea, cateva lucruri tot mai stiu. stiu sa scriu, si in scrierile mele pot sa stiu ce vreau, si sa vreau ce stiu, si mai ales sa am tot ce imi povesteste sufletul prin vise. si mai stiu si ca eu nu-s asta. n-am fost si nici nu voi fi vreodata genul de femeie proasta pe care o privim on a daily basis in toate serialele noastre preferate. ale noastre, bai cap-de-tartaguta. pentru ca noi doi, astia doi prosti cum suntem, in povestile mele, inca mai avem seriale perferate si glume doar ale noastre. si restul nu mai conteaza. si dupa cum spuneam, eu nu am fost si nici nu voi fi vreodata copilita aeriana care isi rateaza absolut toate sansele si apoi cand renunta la tot, vine muntele la mohamed. in primul rand pentru ca eu deja am irosit mai multe sanse decat aveam. apoi pentru ca viata mea nu e un film cu melodii de fundal (totusi multumim apple pentru incercarea curajoasa). si mai apoi pentru ca muntele meu (adica tu, you bastard) a luat-o pe carari straine mie si s-a pierdut pe drum, iar eu nici nu stiu daca ii place ca s-a pierdut sau nu, asa ca nu pot sa mai alerg eu dupa el. si ca o ultima incercare de a imi vindeca singura ego-ul facut bucatele mai ceva ca un servetel de la mcdonald's pe care pun eu mana cand sunt agitata, ar mai fi si faptul ca - eu, fetita cu par rosu care crede in suflete pereche - sunt atat de satula de metafore si desene pe pereti si cantece cu subinteles si vorbit de una singura incat simt ocazional nevoia de a imi baga picioarele in tot. devine un fel de tabiet, pentru ca vezi tu, iubitul meu porumbel cu pene in loc inima, devine iritant sa tot lupti de unul singur, si pe deasupra sa mai si lupti degeaba.
pentru ca naiba sa o ia de viata si de vina si de inima, m-am saturat. m-am saturat eu sa ma aud vorbind. m-am saturat sa imi para rau si sa ma chinui si sa ma bat si sa ma zbat si sa ma lupt, si sa fie totul degeaba. in mod stupid, eu chiar nu sunt persoana care lupta. si hai ca fac o aroganta si o zic pe-aia urata: pentru mine SE lupta. si stiu ca tu ai luptat, la naiba, stiu ca ai luptat de parca ar fi depins tot universul asta de lupta pe care o duceai tu. si n-am sa uit niciodata. (si apropo, de 'pentru mine se lupta', nu am inteles niciodata de ce, totusi. in fine.)
tot ce vroiam sa spun era ca... i just needed you to fight a bit more. just a bit. so little, that you wouldn't even have felt it. si apoi ar fi fost totul ca inainte. si ar fi ramas asa. dar acum, in ultimul ceas, adica ala in care eu renunt de dragul tau (pentru ca sunt egoista), realizez ca tu nu mai vrei sa lupti. si nu numai ca nu mai vrei sa lupti, dar nici nu mai gasesti vreun sens in a reface ceea ce a fost.
iar asta e momentul in care imi cer scuze pentru ca tot timpul asta am fost o idioata penibila si nebuna care te tot tragea intr-un loc in care tu nu mai vrei de mult sa fii.

si pana la urma, my point was... i don't want to stop fighting, but i will. it's not who i am, but i have to. de dragul tau (pentru ca-s egoista).

la obiect.

sadly enough, we're
all suckers for love.

si toate lucrurile care raman nespuse...

nu, nu sunt bine.
nu, nu-mi convine.
nu, nu mi-e usor.
nu, nu vreau inca sa-ti spun somn usor.
nu vreau sa zambesc, pentru ca nu stiu cum sa fac asta fara tine.
te iubesc, si mi-e greu sa nu ti-o spun.
te vreau. te vreau atat de mult incat doare.
iubeste-ma, you idiot.
si crede-ma, nu ma arunc cu capul inainte nu pentru ca nu simt dorinta acuta sa o fac clipa de clipa, ci pentru ca ma gandesc la tine. ma gandesc la faptul ca nu vreau sa te ranesc. pentru ca te iubesc prea mult.
si toate melodiile pe care le ascult spun lucrurile pe care eu nu pot sa le spun niciodata. si in interiorul meu urlu 'iubeste-ma. salveaza-ma.'. dar nu pot sa iti spun toate astea. pur si simplu nu pot. pentru ca refuz sa fiu egoista.
imi e frica de singuratate. si singurele momente in care nu imi vine sa plang sunt momentele in care alerg inspre tine, iar tu ma strangi in brate pana cand nu mai am aer. si nici macar atunci, pentru ca stiu ca la un moment dat va trebui sa imi dai drumul.
si poate ca nu iti dai seama mereu, dar chiar ma chinui. si uneori mi-e atat de greu. dar nici forta sa iti spun nu mai am. si nici nu vreau sa iti spun. pentru ca mi-am promis sa am grija singura de mine, si asta fac. si o sa fac asta in continuare. si nu iti cer nimic. doar ca uneori mi-as dori sa ai un pic de grija de mine, chiar daca nu ti-o cer.

i'll be your friend, your lover, and your no. 1 fan. and all i ask for in return is love.
pff.

i need a refresh button.

"Nu ştiu cum să vă spun, dar mi-e rău dor de mare.."

rasarit in vama... si melodii pe care le cunosc atat de putini oameni incat simti ca au fost scrise doar pentru inima ta...

i fucked up again. my life, that is...

pain.

'why am i here? why does it feel like i need this pain? is it because i love? is it because this is the closest thing i have to feeling? is it because i'm selfish? is it because it makes me feel better about everything?'
'you need pain because it's never-ending. you need pain because it doesn't involve the rest of the world. you need pain because you can create and re-create it time and time again in your heart. you need pain because love scares you. you always run away from love, because somewhere in your heart you are afraid that love fades away in time.'
'i don't believe that love fades away. true love never fades away.'
'true. but you can't live without change. and love brings stability. love brings peace.'
'i like peace.'
'yes... you like peace. the way you like the subway. it takes you places, but you still prefer a car.'
'that's not fair. this is stupid, it's all stupid. why would i run away from love?'
'because you're such a dreamer. because you believe that true love brings along perfection.'
'and it does.'
'you believe true love turns this whole world into a better place.'
'and it does.'
'... you believe that true love makes routine go away. you believe that true love creates never-ending special moments.'
'but... it does.'
'honey, this world kills romance. no matter how much love you spread around. i know how you feel, and your view is beautiful. but this is the real world. and there's this part of you that realizes the actual truth. it's that part that makes you run away when things get too close to finally being perfect.'
'nonsense. why would it do that?'
'because the thought that this world might actually crush that view of yours scares you so bad that you can't control yourself. you go into this coma state and that cynical part of yours takes over and puts an end to anything that could possibly take you so high, just to make sure that there's no possible way for you to fall from there.'
'am i that fucked?'
'i wish i could say differently... but i'm afraid i can't.'
'so what, it's like pain is my only way?'
'maybe one day... maybe the day when things will be so right that the cynical part won't be able to take over anymore...'

maybe i need pain... maybe it's because i love too much, or think too much, or talk too much. maybe this all just bullshit, maybe i'm just stupid.
maybe 'without pain, no one would appreciate the good moments in life.'...
maybe i believe that i have to feel all this pain. maybe i feel like i need to make things right, and this is the only way i found.
maybe i'm selfish, and i need to be different.
maybe i need redemption.

maybe... maybe, somehow, everything makes perfect sense.

in loc de buna dimineata.

'i'm not sweet, my darling, i'm in love. madly, head over heels, breathtakingly in love. si simt un gust de gem de cirese in cerul gurii, cum simti atunci cand te arunci cu capul inainte intr-o romanta de vara cu iz de crema de plaja.'
-

'uite, dimineata asta e ca noi.'
'adica?'
'timida si destul de rece, dar cu o farama de speranta ca mai incolo o sa fie exact cat trebuie de cald. temperatura aia ideala care te face sa vrei sa uiti de tot si sa pici intr-o stare de extaz. my love, imi stai alaturi cat imi savurez cafeaua?'
'only if you share.'
'cu mare drag(oste). stii ce-am realizat? ca sta in firea omului sa ajunga sa invete exact lucrurile de care fuge cu disperare toata viata.'
'si-anume?'
'am urat mereu asteptarea. iar acum o practic cu precizia unui ceas elvetian.'

'o sa dai cu curul de pamant, idioato. a safety net is what you need.'
'i don't need safety nets, bai asta, they keep me from loving. si ce daca o sa ma impiedic pana la urma si o sa pic in bot si o sa incep sa plang mai ceva ca la 5-6 ani cand am aterizat pe niste scari de piatra si mi-am rupt nasul in 2? a durut, dar a trecut. a ma pastra pentru mine, fie si in proportii microscopice, ar insemna ca nu te iubesc indeajuns, my darling. dar nu-ti face griji, i'll clean my own mess daca va fi cazul. now go be happy, you asshole, altfel toate cacaturile astea invizibile pe care le fac nu-si mai au nici un rost, si o sa ma deprim - iar tanti de la farmacie a zis ca nu mai aduc prozac luna asta, si ca ma paste un fel de sevraj daca nu stau cuminte.'
'nu cred ca fericirea mai e de nasul meu.'
'lasa cinismul, ca ala e pentru persoane proaste ca mine care o tot dau in bara si apoi se lamenteaza. uite, am trecut si la ora de vara. si ti-am zis ca se lumineaza afara.'
'cica ploua azi.'
'iar imi calci in picioare idealurile? n-are sa ploua. nu peste camera mea. azi o sa fie frumos, ti-am mai zis - la fel ca sperantele mele.'
'ce-i drept, s-a facut dimineata intre timp. somn usor.'

idealism.

adica ala care s-a stins in dimineata asta. acelasi care ma tine for some reason in fata laptopului cand pe mine ma doare stomacul si vreau sa mananc ciorba acra cu ardei iuti. adica porcaria care ne face sa ne aruncam banii pe filme siropoase si noptile pe vise frumoase.
un rahat in ploaie, my darling. aia ni se serveste pe tava in fiecare zi, oriunde mergem. acelasi lucru pe care ni-l servim unul altuia.
nu, nu ma privi cu ochi mariti de ciuda, trebuia sa vina momentul in care idealista din mine sa isi bage picioarele in tot. pentru ca altfel nu se mai poate. altfel o sa ajung inchisa intr-un spital de nebuni mult prea tanara. si nu vreau asta, my wealthy sweetheart, inca nu m-ai dus la cumparaturi la milano, si ar fi pacat sa ratez o astfel de experienta.

'iar esti cinica?'

nu iar. am avut o revelatie in dimineata asta. doua, de fapt. prima este ca de fapt m-am nascut cinica, si toti anii astia doar am incercat sa ascund treaba asta sub zambete frumoase si rochite dantelate - probabil de frica oamenilor care ar stramba din nas in fata replicilor mele taioase si mi-ar inchide gura cu un film de dragoste. si stii cum sunt eu, baby - orice film de dragoste ma inmoaie mai ceva ca cerealele din bolul cu lapte. iar a doua revelatie mi-a trecuta grabita prin dreptul urechilor si aproape ca s-a pierdut printre suvitele mele albe (de la lumina neonului albastru). am realizat ca am nevoie de lumea asta imputita. am nevoie de suferinta de pe planeta asta, si de crime, si de batai, si de inimi frante mai mult ca orice altceva. pentru ca in fond, scrisul e the place i visit when i need redemption. and faith. iar fara scris, eu nu sunt eu, tu nu esti tu, iar lumea asta continua sa franga inimi si sa impuna norme penibile si sa ne ingroape in tristete si datorii.

asa ca iarta-ma ca-s cinica, iarta-ma ca am nevoie sa uit de tot uneori, iarta-ma ca ma chinui de trei ori pe zi - dupa fiecare masa pe care o ratez - sa omor idealista din mine. iarta-ma ca spun lucruri care nu au sens. si ca fac lucruri inutile - cum ar fi sa ma opresc la 5 dimineata pe strada sa ii dau unei batrane o tigara mentolata si un foc. aveam mainile inghetate si aproape ca am inceput sa plang cand am incercat sa scot bricheta din geanta.

de dor, bai boule, ca azi-noapte a fost frumos afara, iti spun eu, ca am mers o ora jumate pe jos.

autocompatimire.

gata. m-am saturat de plans, de umilinta, de 'bine, hai, lasa, e ca tine.', de bataile pe umar si de cuvintele marete.
azi am sa fiu artista. am sa fiu artista puternica, frumoasa, sigura pe ea. am sa fiu artista care zambeste, artista care stie. artista care vede lucrurile de sus si de jos si de dinafara in acelasi timp, pentru ca ea insasi este undeva pe un piedestal de unde se uita in jos catre omenire, si pe sub pielea oricui, si in mintea fiecaruia. azi am sa fiu puternica si frumoasa. si am sa zambesc cel mai misterios zambet pe care l-am invatat vreodata, pentru ca - in fond - dincolo de zambetul meu inselator, stiu lucruri care ar putea schimba totul intr-o bataie de vant. azi nu mai plang, pentru ca nu am motiv. azi sunt o femeie independenta, care stie exact ce vrea si ce are nevoie de la viata si cum se invart toate rotile universului. azi imi incep viata. viata mea. o viata din care nu am sa mai ofer nimanui nici macar o farama, pentru ca m-am saturat sa tot ofer lucruri care ajung in cosul de gunoi mai repede decat e necesar. de azi am sa fiu egoista.
'ca intotdeauna.', ai sa-mi spui.
dar te inseli, my love. in felul meu ciudat, nu am fost niciodata egoista. m-am purtat egoist, da. dar egoista nu am fost nici macar o secunda. daca-i sti macar...
de azi nu am sa ma mai complac in repetitii si cuvinte care ma asigura over and over again ca x lucru e intr-un fel si ca nu e cazul sa imi fac griji in legatura cu y situatie. de azi am sa fiu sigura pe mine. de azi nu am sa mai fiu copil.

de azi sunt om mare.

'cause even wise men fall in love...

... and they fall hard.

simt un gust amar pana in adancul sufletului. si o neliniste idioata. si ma simt proasta. ma simt calcata in picioare. ma simt ca un copil care are un post-it din-ala nenorocit pe care scrie 'hit me!' lipit pe spate si nu afla de ce radea toata lumea de el in curtea scolii nici macar cand ajunge acasa si se dezbraca, pentru ca post-it-ul se dezlipeste de tricou exact inainte sa intre pe usa. ma simt tradata.
'm-ai mintit, tampitule.'
'esti nebuna, ti-am zis ca esti nebuna. delirezi. ti s-au urcat toate povestile de dragoste la cap si ai luat-o razna.'
'boule, tu nu intelegi ca era atat de simplu doar sa imi spui adevarul? oricare ar fi fost ala. zi-mi ca-s proasta. zi-mi ca ti-ai batut joc. zi-mi ca vrei sa ma calci in picioare. zi-mi ca vrei sa ma faci sa sufar. zi-mi ca vrei sa ma vezi cu inima rupta in miliarde de bucatele. doar zi-mi ceva. orice. adevarul. si promit ca am sa zambesc sincer - nu, nu intelegi, chiar am sa zambesc din inima - si am sa ma conformez. am sa accept orice. am sa ma las calcata in picioare, tarata prin noroi, insultata, injurata, scuipata, imbrancita, dezgolita. dar nu mintita. am sa accept orice, if that's what it takes.'
'aberezi. nu vezi ce prostii spui? ce e cu toate cuvintele astea insirate de pomana? ce incerci sa demonstrezi?'
'nu incerc sa demonstrez decat ca... it takes so little to keep me loving you. da, my love, atat de putin iti cer. adevarul. 'cause i don't wanna go to that place where i become comfortably numb. nu vreau sa ma transform iar intr-o papusa de plastic care - oricat incearca - nu poate sa simta nimic. ofera-mi ura. loveste-ma. just let me feel real...'

title.

... it does feel like breaking down. *smiles*

Deep Ocean Vast Sea

Nathan: Let's just get this over with.
Peyton: Funny, that's what he used to say before we had sex.

---

There's not enough time in this world to waste it by throwing words into the ocean.




For someone special.

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…”

I ain't there just yet.

I don't know who I am
And I ain't there just yet
There's this light leading me
But my legs... - they won't follow.


I don't know who you are
And you're still far away
Your strength gives me hope
But I ain't there just yet.

Goodbye.

Tears falling from the sky

All those leaves sayin' "Goodbye!"

In a world of loneliness

Where's the dream of happiness?

Snowflakes cutting thick cold air

No one else is left to dare

Killing love was the last act

Now we all have to accept the fact

That remembering love songs

Is the last thing that belongs

In here, down here

In a nightmare of fear.

Tears pouring down the street

Made an ocean our last meet

But the pain from your dark eyes

That - I couldn't think it lies

It would talk about forever

About things you can remember

About you and me together

About lives becoming better

About lies that will end never

That was our last meeting ever.

Tears shaping your cold body

Couldn't it have been somebody

Else laying here in my arms

Keep you far from any harms

My tears wouldn't wash the blood

My regrets wouldn't cover the mud

Of death, a trip without an ending

But we all have to accept the bidding

A bet we lose and have to pay

Without asking why it has to be that way

We pay and close our eyes forever

Just hoping this and that will never

Turn out to be wrong ways to "better"

'Cause "Goodbye!" will be our ever.

... 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.

---

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

---

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

---

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.

I...

"... and i keep biting my lips, trying hard not to say it ... and it's so hard... so hard that it tears me apart."

I wish ... the world would just stop.

---
Today I learnt about letting go.
---
Listening to: Gym Class Heroes - Good Vibrations
Reading: Love The One You're With
Watching: Lost Season 1, Episode 2
Playing: Cooking Academy 2
---
I, I love the colorful clothes she wears
And the way the sunlight plays upon her hair(she's so sexy)
I hear the sound of a gentle word
On the wind that lifts her perfume through the air
(Gym Class Heroes - Good Vibrations)
*Click to download song.

Writing

I just realized that I wake up every morning, naked of any prejudices or certain thoughts. And I put on some random clothes and I get out in the street empty, waiting for someone, something to give a meaning to my day. I get out the door with no other thought than to seek something that affects me. To make my heart race with emotion (and no, I am not talking love in here), my mind jump around, popping thousands of words and ideas all over the place. I do my best on remaining open-minded and open-hearted all day long, just maybe something will get to me. And sometimes something does get to me. Just like yesterday. And sometimes that something makes me write. Just like yesterday. But sometimes there's nothing that touches me the whole day. Or even if it does, I simply can't put it on paper. And I go to bed just as empty as I woke up. And no one ever writes about those moments. No writer in the world. I don't write about my moments when I can't write. But considering the fact that I can't write, that's pretty logical and excusable. I mean, it's not like I refuse to, right?
But... If I don't write, then who does?...
Absolutely no one. And that's a fact. And that's sad. Because 9 out of 10 days, I can't write.
I just hope that's gonna change...
---
Today I learnt something new about writing. Writing is so different from most things in this life. Except for love, maybe. Why? Because 9 out 10 times, writing comes to you, not the other way around. And I know that because all those 9 other times, I try so hard to run after words and stories and articles and nice expressions. And it's always pointless.
---
Listening to: Better Than Ezra - Our Last Night
Reading: Love The One You're With
Watching: Gay Stand-Up Comedy
Playing: Tic Tac Toe with my PC

---

I remember waking up with you.

The days doing nothing,

You meant more to me then

Than I think you ever knew.

But you were going to be a doctor,

A movie star, a poet at a Nobel seminar,

I hope the world never tore that out of you.

(Better Than Ezra - Our Last Night)

*Click to download song.