Lemons

9:24 a.m.
Blank & Jones – Pure Shores

 

When life gives you lemons, give life something back in return. Be nice. For once.

It’s 9am, I’m sitting alone in the office looking down the window dreaming of the sea, again. A couple of days ago, life gave me lemons and now I am wearing them. And I feel like I should give life something back…

Today, the air changed. I stepped out of the house and I had that feeling that you get early in the morning when you get to the beach. When the sand is a bit cold and it’s a bit chilly but there is so much peace in the air you can actually touch it. Everything stops, you stop, and the only thing left moving are the waves. And your problems go along with them. Everything breaks down to pieces only so that the sea can put them together as they are meant to be. There, in that moment, I reach my nirvana. My worries become the energy I seek, my problems become the motivation I need and every bad thing that has happen, dissolve along with me. I think this is how love is described.

Life is worth living every season, but there’s something about summer, maybe it has to do with this feeling that runs in my veins right now, but I feel more alive than ever, almost like I’m floating on a cloud of pink cotton candy.

Life. Life has actually been treating me really nice the past year… Life gave me someone. That someone that imagined a day where he’ll meet someone like me. That someone that I hoped I will find one day. That someone, the one that I call now my love.

Life gave me strength to quit all bad habits and now I can proudly say that after ten years of smoking, I have 74 days since I quit. And I miss it everyday.

Life made me understand that I cannot run from myself or my feelings, so I quit drinking. For good. Since may last year.

Life gave me the motivation I needed when I felt completely useless so I started  going to the gym and and taking classes to quit all unnecessary treatments. For fuck’s sake, I am still too young to need pills everyday.

Life gave me an opportunity when I was completely lost. I quit my last job with no prospects of a future one, no money put aside and now, I am writing. For a living. And it’s been a blissful three months. And counting…

But today, I started counting my time. I am scared that I am not doing enough to give back. People talk about getting their shit together and I actually did. But I fear that life has been too good to me and so, I expect something bad to happen. Because I learned this is how life works.

I’ve always considered myself lucky, but I feel guilty that some people are so unfortunate. Life did not gave them lemons, she gave them nothing. And everytime I pass someone that has nothing to hold on to, no hope, I feel guilty. Because, why do I have and he doesn’t? Why am I special? Why not him?

There is so much evil in the world that sometimes I fall asleep with tears in my eyes not knowing what to do to make the world a better place. Call me naive, but I still have hope in humanity. I know there is beauty and good in the world. I see it everyday in the smile of a stranger and in the sun that paints my skin. I am just afraid I am not doing enough lemonade to give back. Every single day. All I can do is try. But will this ever be enough?

House once said:

“Be good, get good or give up”

I did all three. I just replaced “give up” with “never give up”.

Yours truly, after all this time,

La chat noir

 

 

The storm part 2

12:07 a.m.
U2 – Electrical Storm

“You’re in my mind all of the time
I know that’s not enough”

my storm

I missed you… and when I say you mean this place. Here, where I lay myself as I am, beautiful as someone once said, beautiful and honest, as you always wanted me to be, and when I say you, I mean you my love.

“Baby don’t cry…” But from time to time is all I can do, free myself trough cracks and sounds, trough tears, by letting salty water dripping on my chest. I cried, tears of happiness and joy, tears of beauty looking at the sky dancing with the lights and sounds, speechless on the outside, screaming on the inside. I cried tonight, tears of fear, for getting sick again, tears of loss, for parts of me, tears of pure and utter joy for being with you again. I cried for myself, and for all the things I cannot say with words… Hell, I’m crying right now, but with a smile on my face, for there is so much to smile for. And I blame you for showing me and teaching me beauty. 

I stopped time with these tears and right then, you made it move again… Like you have a sense for when I use my powers wrong. You just want me to stop time when I smile at you, for you, because of you. It’s always been you… the one that showed me I am magic.

And I stayed there, petrified, looking how my room gets brighter and brighter second after second…     I opened the window and looked at the storm that until this day, never came, looking at it from far away, admiring her, for these are moments you only get to live a few times in your life. And you have to see them for what they really are, and accept them as they are, or you will live your whole life in the dark.

I started shivering, so I poured cold water on my body, to stop myself from shivering at the thought of your touch, your kiss, your heat that made me feel I was up there in the sky, having a smoke with the thunder and a coffee with the lightening. Now I’m shivering because I’m cold.

And like everything in life, things like storms always pass and the best we can do is to be a part of it until it’s too late. The sky is dark blue again, stars can be seen trough the clouds, and from time to time, a light is winking at me, telling me to breath and look in the mirror because:

“There is beauty in the world my lil’ lady, you just have to see it. And for that, you just have to look in the mirror. I know, because I see you.”

Yours truly, la chat noir

the healing process

1:54 a.m.
Ed Sheeran – Kiss me

“Settle down with me
Cover me up, cuddle me in
Lie down with me
And hold me in your arms”

chcm

I’m all covered in blood again… And no, it doesn’t matter who hurt me as long as I am the one that gave them the knife… I tend to cut myself with someone else’s hand and then pretend I don’t know why I have so many scars. And you see them and you ask me how and who, and I blame them, even though I’m the guilty one.

I light up another cigarette and I stare at the screen… I don’t even know if I’m making any sense right now but I am writing… I have to pour the blood in words and drink until the last drop if I want to make it out alive.

So I pour, in another broken glass, glued with fears and confessions, hoping you’ll understand me a little better… 

I’m rearranging the feelings in my fingers and I write. I write answers for your questions, I write about you and me and about that time you’ve met me. All I have now is hope, that I’ll make you see I never meant to be anything else but good for you, with you, in our limited time together.

I write about my new scars, the ones that you helped creating, leaving another story behind. And I write about how I am not going to cover them, but wear them on sight, not having to fear that someone could see me, but let them see me. And for me to remember to erase the fingerprints and hide the knife, so you wouldn’t be blamed by anyone. 

“You met me at a very strange time in my life” doesn’t even begin to describe it. You met me at a very insane time in my life and I’ve sentenced you to death from the begging, without even letting you to defend yourself, might fit the situation better. The ugly sick twisted truth about it, it’s that I didn’t even knew I was about to blame you for my criminal offences. I really believed that it will be different, that this time, this… time we had, will be good for both of us, but really now, what were we thinking?

But insanity is defined by doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results. Why did I think this time would be different? Why do I think that every single time I hand over the knife? It is a sick game but I love the thrill of it, I love to see the blood flowing, it comes so natural to me, like I was born to be this insane. Or…

I am so naive, and not because I believe with all my being that there is good in you, not because I believe the beautiful things you told me but because I believed myself when I said that this time will be different. It’s not, it’s just the same old pattern, I see you, I touch your soul, I fall for you, I give you all the weapons I have and I whisper in your ear: hurt me, hurt me like it’s your right to do so, make me bleed so I’ll never forget you and then hold me, love me, heal me… and I’ll love you for doing so…

Something tells me that this time something has changed. Maybe because this time I’m bleeding way too hard… Maybe because it’s the first time I saw myself with the knife… All I know is that I’ve lost too much blood and I need to heal, but this wound is way too deep… I’ve been cutting in the same place for years and I don’t know if I’ll ever recover. But that never stopped me before nor will it stop me now. If I’ve learned one thing, is to never give up on myself.

Love, my love, I know I am not making any sense, I don’t even know if I tried, I just drank and drank and didn’t stop until the last drop of blood was gone… You have to know that I will miss you. And that I never lied to you, it’s just, I was afraid to let you see more of me because you didn’t sign up for this… I didn’t either but I take responsibility for my actions, I am used to being hurt, so used I don’t know how to live another way. But you… you’ve been good to me, for me and you should know this…

I guess what I am trying but failing miserable to say is that, I am sorry. Not sorry that I met you and opened the door to my soul, not sorry that I let you in and made you comfortable enough to stay, not sorry that I saw the true colors of your eyes and fell for them, all of them… but sorry that I have to leave and sorry that I made you feel like you have to too. I will hold dear to those colors until the day we’ll meet again and I’ll paint them all over you, if you’ll let me. I will take you with me, in my heart and keep you there, safe, for and whenever you’ll miss me, if you’ll ever, please let me know. I promised I will do the same.

Love, la chat noir

the exquisite pain

2:04 a.m.
Gunnar Madsen – Anna

“It took me a really long time to get here.
But I’m here.”

 

Our love story isn’t even a love story, it’s just a tale about a girl who tried making what she thought was the love of her life into something he’s not: the one.

It started out as something completely innocent, a fling over a vacation and before she knew it, she fell in love with him. Fell being the key word here…

And it was clear from the beginning that they’ll never be more than what they were, something that until this very day she cannot describe… They weren’t supposed to be anything but rule breaking when you’re nineteen is fun. If she only knew what was she getting into…

Their love was the kind of love that consumed her, that messed up her whole belief system, the kind of love that changed her, that shook her to her core, after which she was never the same…

And she never, not for a single moment regretted any of it, more than that, she embraced everything that he taught her, she embraced the tears never complaining and always accepting everything he’d say to her because it was the only way she could be with him. Anytime he called, she answered and opened the door to her heart and her house, giving him anything he asked for. Silly little girl…

But she never met anyone like him… And she never loved anyone the way she loved him… 

He once told her that she is like a drug and over the years she realized that the one addicted wasn’t him but her. Addicted to the way he made her feel, addicted to the way he smiled to her, addicted to the way he hold her and kissed her and made love to her. Addicted to the pain, the exquisite pain that made her feel alive. She knew he loved her, she knows in some ways he still does but, what matters at the end, is that she knows she never was nor will be “the one”. Not for him.

***

You never did anything wrong, you never gave me any hopes. It was all me. I did it. I created this story… I was the one that had hope, hope that someday you’ll want me, just me…

I know you didn’t used me, I know your feelings were true but I cannot be with someone who’ll get scared. You were the only one I wouldn’t have left, like I did with any other guy that wanted me.

Now I don’t even know how to look at you, or how to talk with you. It became so hard… and that was the thing I most loved about “us”, the easiness of being myself around you, of talking to you and laugh with you, it was so easy loving you and telling you how much I love you…

You know, I once had a thought, that maybe it isn’t the fact that I didn’t break you, but the fact that you didn’t break me…

I really thought you were my Mr. Big. I’m such a hopeless romantic that I tried making you someone you are not just to hang to that happy ending we all wish for. But now I know the truth. And I’m okay.

You will no longer have my tears. This is the last time I’ll cry because of you, for you. I have, for the last time, to get you out of my system, I have to cry you out…

Maybe someday you will realize that I could have been the one. That I was there for you, always in your corner, never waiting for anything in return but for you too see a glimpse of that. Maybe at some point down your road it will hit you but it will be too late. I will no longer be there waiting for you to see me.

Because I don’t think I want to see you again. You were a lesson I had to learn, and I did and I am good with my grades even though you’ll never be.

I am finally here, letting you go not for you, but for me. I need to free myself from you once and for all because you never was nor will ever be the one, my one. You need to be the past as you were meant to be since the first moment I realized I was living in a fantasy I created; in order to be the person I was meant to be.

I don’t know if you’ll ever realize this is about you, and for the first time I don’t really care. But if you will, I’m sure it’ll be too late, like every time you do when there’s something to see about me. I will no longer let you play me like one of your songs, anytime you’re in the mood for me. I won’t let you take me for granted anymore.

It was, a beautiful thing and I will forever hold our memories dear but this is what I have to do: keep you in my life just as a memory… I have to let you go, I have to let us go and to stop wondering “what if”. You and I, nothing. Not anymore. I designed this fantasy and I’m putting an end to it, here and in the cold harsh reality.

Thank you for all the things you have done for me, with me, thank you for teaching me how I deserve to be loved and thank you for making me believe in myself and see that I am worthy. Thank you, for everything!.

I don’t think there are any words left, I’ve said them all… except maybe… I hope your girl will be lovely, Hubbell!.

                        The end

secrets

1:04 p.m.
Location: Bucharest
Sia – Elastic Heart

And I’ve got thick skin and an elastic heart
But your blade it might be too sharp
I’m like a rubber band until you pull too hard
I may snap and I move fast
But you won’t see me fall apart
‘Cos I’ve got an elastic heart

I once wrote about flaws and fears; it went something like this:

I see the best in people but somehow I bring out the worst in them cause I mainly love flaws. And if you can love flaws, you can love the entire person. As you can see, I never write about my good parts, about what I’m good at or about the things I’m proud of. Here is my soul, full of cracks and flaws, raw, without any mask or a curtain to cover the missing parts and if you can love me from this, then I can let my guard off and love you back. I’m just scared I will stand alone again. I’m too used to the feeling of being alone to let you get it the easy way.

I lied. Not to you, to myself. I really believed it and somehow I still do believe it but a few days ago, I was asked why? Why do I emphasize the bad and not the good? Why am I hiding before this uncrackable mask I wear with so much pride like it’s my second skin but I make it seem like it’s my first?

What do I have to hide? What am I so afraid of? Why can’t I let people see me as I am? Why not show that I am more that this?

1333212008954094 (1)

Because I never did, I never left my guard down. I’ve built walls so high even I don’t know how to get past them sometimes… Defense it written all over here and all over me. You can look into my eyes and see the truth but the words will always contradict that look and I will try, with every chance I’ll get, to lie to you, pretending I’m all tough and shit.

Why… I don’t even have to tell you why because you already know… know that I am so scared, I feel like a cat in a box under the stairs, turned into stone by the people who’ve hit me so many times. And I am afraid to get out, I am afraid to leave that box and let you see me as I am, naive, vulnerable, hurt… Because I’ve reached to the point in which I believe that if I show you this, you’ll hurt me. And I am afraid of getting hurt again.

So many mixed thoughts are dancing in my mind because after all who isn’t, right? Right?

You know, sometimes, I do see them nice people petting me gently, I see in their eyes the goodness and the fact that they don’t want to hurt me. But even if you are good to me, I am so scared and messed up, I’ll scratch out your eyes and hiss and hurt you before you’ll try and hurt me. It’s a sick sick game and I don’t want to play it anymore but I don’t know how to stop. I really don’t know how to get out of defense mode. I’ve been like this for too long and I don’t know my way out I’m so messed up. So I prefer to stay in that box under the stairs…

Because in that box, people don’t have expectations of me and so I won’t disappoint, they just see what I show them and judge me from that, that’s why I get the bad first. That’s why I don’t show my good side, because I don’t want them to expect anything of me. Because then I can prove them wrong, correction, I can prove myself wrong. I am constantly challenging myself by wearing the bulletproof mask I created for you, for those around me. It’s “be good, get good or give up!” Never did, never will, not for you, not for anybody, but for me.

And fuck… I know. I sometimes think I know too much for my own good and maybe, if I’d be more stupid, I’d be happier. But I know… I know that the best of me, that what makes me, me… it’s my kindness, my childish smile, my stupid annoying optimism, the fact that all I do is smile and laugh, the fact that I put others above me because if you are good I’ll be too, those little gestures I make for you, that hug I give you even if it’s hard for me to let you touch me, the genuine “I’m here” I told and showed you, my blind trust that there is good and beauty within everyone of us making it a mission to show it to people…

I am strong. I am smart enough and I know how to take care of myself and others, I am, as someone dear to me said, borderline insane courageous…  And it’s all about perspective really, you can either give up or stand up, straighten your crown, smile and say: “I can! I can do this, there is nothing in this world that is going to stop me!” But to really make a difference in one’s life I don’t need to be anything… I don’t need to be perfect or brilliant or beautiful, I just have to care. And this, I do. I care.

I just have a weird way of showing it because if I have too be the black so that you’ll be the white, I’ll take that no matter the consequences. Because I know best, I know myself, I know who I am and why do I do what I do. I know. And it’s enough for me. I don’t care if no one else can see it, better yet, I’m happy that no one else can see it.

I’ve been working on this for three days now and I’m still afraid to press “publish”. This is me. The real me. I’m not special. I’m not amazing nor beautiful, and I never knew how to make myself lovable. I am me. And there’s nothing special about that, I know it. This is, just a story of a black cat trying to get a hold of this little crazy amazing thing we call life.

And I will stay up through the night
And let’s be clear, won’t close my eyes
And I know that I can survive
I’ll walk through fire to save my life
And I want it, I want my life so bad
I’m doing everything I can

“slut”

you were drawn to the title, weren’t you?

1:07 a.m.
Location: Bucharest
Tinashe – Player

“Live life like if I want, I do
If I want love, I get it, get it, I get it”

lady

I am more than opened about my life. There is no secret curtain, no mask, nothing to cover my soul and heart, nothing but a ‘black cat’ pseudo, as you well know by now. I am not, nor will I ever be, afraid of you; of what you might think or say, of that label you put on my lips the moment I entered your life.

There are more important things in my life I have to be afraid of, like spiders and commitment. 

What you think of me is none of my business and it will stay that way. Calling me names, go ahead, give me your best shot but if I may, I prefer ‘slut’, it just shows that I have bigger b***s than you. Yes, of course I censored myself, I’m a lady, for fuck’s sake!. 

Also, let me say just this: why me and not you too? Don’t we all use people to get what we want? Don’t we all use each other for different reasons? Don’t we all, judge and put labels before we even had the change to meet the person in question? Oh, I’m sorry, you thought I was talking about sex. Why excuse me dear sir or lady, but who’s the slut now?

With that answered, I can move on and tell you that I found myself doing a little documentation around this magnificent label this morning, searching for “what being a slut implies” and I found something that is particularly interesting: slut – a woman with the morals of a man. A woman. I can see that.

And even though I personally think it’s suitable, considering the situation, I somehow find that slightly… untrue. Just because you are a man it means that you are absolved from the catcalling and praised as a fucking Adonis with lots of experience… Yes, we do prefer experienced hands and for men to be men, cause baby, between me and you, if we’d want a pussy, we’d all be gay, no offence. 

But let’s hit reverse a little, it’s only fair, isn’t it? Even if it weren’t, fuck you, it’s my blog, I can do whatever the hell I want (she said with a devilish smug on her face). We all more that appreciate a firm hand, the key word being ‘all’. Never have I ever heard someone say: oh yes, I loved the way she/he stood there like a log, her/his cold body turned me on so bad (straight face). You know you love it as mush as we do when she exceeds your expectations, so don’t be a hypocrite.  

You know that in psychology, it is said that what you don’t like about a person it’s exactly the thing that you hate about yourself, kinda like your whining about whining women (see what I did there?). 

Before I get any further, you have to know that I don’t see myself trough these lenses, that’s just you. I see myself exactly as I am, a free, fearless, fierce woman capable of doing anything you would if society hadn’t scared you into thinking that sex is bad and a sin, and because you enjoy it so much, that makes you a very bad person. No one gives a fuck, darling. Only you do. And may I suggest, you should do it more often, but in a… more practical way so to speak. You know you want to…

Because at some point you’re gonna die so who’s gonna stay and remember that one night stand you had last night? Oh, you can’t answer, can you? Exactly my point.

Tough thing being called a slut, I think it’s the worst thing that ever happened to me :| (Note to self: Kill yourself if you’ll ever mean that).  

Because seriously now, is this the worst thing that can happen to you? Stop letting yourself eaten by guilt and live a little. You are free to do whatever and whomever the fuck you want and no one has the right to tell you otherwise. You don’t need me to tell you this, but from time to time you may need a reminder. 

A reminder that I am here, always will be, anytime you’ll need to call someone a slut and feel better about yourself. Good day sir!. Good night miss!.

also: don’t assume my posts are about you, but if you’re affected by them, then that obviously means you’re guilty of something…

once again

12:28 a.m.
Location: Bucharest
Lana del Rey – Burning desire

“You got me hypnotized, so you know what to do…”

tumblr_m7qjw7UxIO1qg8ajio1_500

And for some reason, I just cannot stop thinking about last night…  I had so much energy but so little power over my body this morning when I got home. I stood in the middle of the room still dressed, and all I could do was to light up a cigarette to calm my mind and my body. I had such a restless disposition, like I haven’t had in ages and before I knew it, I woke up in a room full of stuff laying around, standing on top of my bed who was on the other side of my room… 

And I just stood there, for several minutes replaying ourselves over and over again in my mind, closing my eyes and see the way you looked at me, feeling your intense touch on my naked body, biting my red lips to stop myself from screaming and damaging my own skin with my nails…

I’m not even sorry for the marks I left on your skin… 

The more words I put on this blank page the more feverish I get, getting closer to trembling again… I know I said it already, but I missed you. And I didn’t even knew I did until I saw you. I have, once again, a burning desire to experience your body and make you feel the way you make me feel, every time. 

It’s getting harder and harder to breathe, my mouth it’s dry but I cannot bring myself to move for a sip of water… All I want to do is smoke, all I want to do is smoke… you…   It’s a strangely familiar feeling, this mix between desire and fantasy, it’s just like before except it’s not, it’s different…

I’m so glad I met you, again… 

It’s so easy to talk to you, to be around you, it’s like the most natural thing in the world, you make me feel anxious and peaceful at the same time, also out of my mind by how good you are with me. I love the fact that you don’t ask for permission, I love the way you are with me, I love that you are not afraid to touch me just the way you desire, seeing I am not made of porcelain… You see me for who I am, you see right trough me and you foresee what I want before I can even open my mouth to tell you… You left me without words, and baby, this is a “once in a blue moon” kind of situation for me..

You always knew how to make me yours and so, I have to tell you that, you own me, I am yours to play with, once again. Don’t ever stop thinking I don’t like it, I love everything you do to me, with me, for me… 

I want no promises, no nothing just… you… for as long as you let me dream a little dream of you. I write with the kisses you left on me…

Happy Christmas

6:05 p.m.
Location: Hometown
Daniela Andrade – Christmas Time Is Here

Christmas time is here
Happiness and cheer
Fun for all that children call
Their favorite time of the year

Snowflakes in the air
Carols everywhere
Olden times and ancient rhymes
Of love and dreams to share

Sleigh bells in the air
Beauty everywhere
Yuletide by the fireside
And joyful memories there

Christmas time is here
Families drawing near
Oh, that we could always see
Such spirit through the year

tumblr_nuq44oTuco1ug29dgo1_500

I’ve been listening to this song almost all of December… Hoped until this day that it will give me my Christmas spirit back… Last time I felt “it” was 14 years ago when “how the Grinch stole Christmas” appeared on television and I was with my sister and my mother in bed, all tucked up eating tangerines watching the movie. Since then I’ve associated that smell with the one from the tree with this holiday. It’s all that I have now, this memory, it’s one of the most important ones and I hold on to it every year, dearly.

It’s been five years since this house has not seen a tree and I felt like I had to do something about that, so I bought a tree and decorated it and stood in front of it for several minutes eating, yes, tangerines. Felt good, peaceful. Exactly like how Christmas should feel. I guess… 

And at first, I thought it would make me sad but I am home, and even though I am alone (Home alone: insert obvious joke here) I do have the family I chose for myself. I find comfort in that; I have some amazing people in my life and I love them to death and it’s enough. It really is. I’ve said it and I will say it again, my treasure are the people in my life…

But now, only two of them are worth mentioning, because without you guys, I do not know where I would be: So Happy Christmas Larissa, my dear bff, I hope you are having a great time there, a billion fucking miles away and yes I do miss you like hell but I am still 1% mad at you for leaving because I care for you, you… you… I know that from time to time you get mad at me for not calling and saying I will but you are, you really are one of the most important people in my life. I just miss you so much and so much is happening in my life and I hate that I have to tell you over the phone. And you know that every time we talk I’m telling you to come home. So, will ya? Te astept la aeroport?  

Happy Christmas Kiki, dear redneck, you got blood on my white shirt… but I’m good. You know why? Because it’s all you, your craziness, your weirdness and the fact that you have a problem with alcohol, meaning that I can out drink you, well, it’s you, exactly how you are and I love you for that. You never pretended with me and I appreciate you for this. It’s been eight, nine years and you are still here when I need you. I just hope you know I am here for you too. You are one of the good ones!.

You both are :) Thank you for letting me be myself.

Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night!. Love, Mika.

Re.turning. Re.typing. Re.writing

 

If she had only stood for love
That would have been enough
She wouldn’t have to hide her shame
If she had only stood for love
That would have been enough
But now shes burnt us all with her flames

9:19 a.m.
Location: Bucharest
Thievery corporation – Amerimacka

imprinting

Re.turning to you.

You know how I tend to use your body like a canvas, how I like to write to you, on your skin? How I say that if I had the chance to literally imprint on you, you gave me the right to make you a character here? I will forever do so… I write on your heart with every chance I get, every time I put my fingers on you. I imprint on you… and it makes me fall in love over and over again, it gives me the power to stop time for you and me and you know that; but lately, I started to do the same for me with the words you gave me to remember you by and so, I got another tattoo…

Re.typing you

I see myself as a canvas as well and I am a prisoner of words, I am a person of letters and soon my body will show you this, even though you wouldn’t understand them. My first is a cat, a beautiful black cat in the shape of a g-clef designed by still, a dear person, who once meant the world to me. She gave me the poster with the name of my blog, and with that she has earned the right to be part of my collection. I wrote “maktub” on my wrist facing myself cause I am the one that has to see it. It means “it is written” and it’s my way of telling you that I do not believe in coincidences, but you already knew that. My collarbone writes “sugar free” and it’s an ideea someone had when I was going for anything that had the word “free” in it. It suits my personality. But the last one… this one is for you, my beautiful everyday… Ever since I first read those words they imprinted on my heart and now, as a gift, for the both of us, I offer you a place on the surface too. I will forever cherish you and what you meant for me, you will always be dear to me and I will always love you, for who you are and for what you made me be, a better person.

Re.writing for you

You asked me what my biggest fear is and I told you stagnation. You told me to think about it… I always said that being in the same place I am now five years from this moment, it would be the end of me, for me. But no, I lied and not to you, I lied to myself. Yes, I am afraid to standstill, it’s a backward move, but being the person that I am, doing what I do, and not touching peoples lives as I do it, it would kill me. My words are not only mine, my words are yours, are for you. I am a writer and from my point of view, I write for me and you to get some peace of mind and for you to find that something you are missing, for you to read these words that you feel but are not able to form a sentence. I am here for you as well. Always have been, always will be. My treasure are the people in my life and also, the people that I have not met yet, but will.

I never pretended in front of you. You… love, I gave myself to you a long time ago and I made a vow to you, that I am yours to play with, to mess me up and to fix me, I am your puzzle, your chance to do something good for someone… Through me, with me, you are indestructible. I am, yours…

Words of the day: What a beautiful life
Is like licking honey off a knife

This is the end

 

‘Cause it’s too cold
For you here…

6:26 p.m.
Location: Bucharest
The Neighborhood – Sweater Weather

Strangers, that’s what we are, you and me, a couple of strangers trying to find some piece of mind… We don’t know each other, how could we when we change as the minute passes. You just see what you want to see, what you need when you need it but I am not that person, I am a fantasy. I am a stranger. You should’ve known that by now. 

letting go

Stranger (about 162,000,000 results) = noun 1. a person with whom one has had no personal acquaintance: He is a perfect stranger to me. 2. a newcomer in a place or locality: a stranger in town. 3. an outsider4. a person who is unacquainted with or unaccustomed to something.

Some people have alcohol, some have drugs. I have people. Usually broken, sick or unavailable but that’s my drug of choice. And by doing something good for them, I get my dose. And another day passes…

It’s safe to assume that everybody uses everybody for something. And you used me and I used you for our own pleasure whenever we felt the need for another dose. I was there… knowing you use me and letting you in order to make you forget about your problems and regrets. That was my hit, the way you looked at me, and sometimes, just sometimes, genuinely returning it back just to keep you there for one more minute.

Am I crazy or I’ve spent so much time in defense I don’t know how to behave any other way… Debatable; but honestly, how many genuinely nice people are left in the world? Eight?

I am just as broken as any of you but now it’s not the time to get into this. Now, it’s about you. You, the one that made me feel real. You, the one that changed me and shook me to the core, the one that gave me acceptance and never judged me, the one that took my hand and said “I am here”, the one that looked into my eyes and whispered “I missed you”, the one that smiled at me in the rain, the one that offered me a story in the form of a book, the one that was as honest as it gets since the moment we met, the one that accepted my decision to never talk about what happened and still kept us a secret, the one that wants to know me even though I keep pushing him away and the one that I cannot define, the one that means so much to me just because I see the love of my life in him and the other way around…

You, you obviously gave me something to remember, and that is why you are here now… For me to say my goodbye. I have to let you go, in order to let myself go and become the person I want to be. It’s for the best and someday, you’ll come to the same conclusion; that we are, after all, strangers.

I learned that you don’t always get what you want, but what you need. It took me a while to understand that, but is as simple as it gets: I already knew it, the thing I wished for, but never got, was a substitute for what I needed, but never accepted because I wasn’t ready or it wasn’t for me or the timing was wrong. I use an excuse for everything any chance I get and it’s time for me to change that. And I cannot move forward whilst I live is the past with you. It’s time for me to let you go.

What I can promise is this: You will always have your place within my heart and I will always think of you dearly, and if we’ll ever meet again, I’ll smile just the way you are used for me to smile when I look at you…

But love, my love… This is the end… for you and me.  

Stay

10:30 p.m.
Location: Bucharest
Stay – 

  • Rihanna – Stay
  • Hurts – Stay
  • Sam Smith – Stay with me

These are just a few songs that came to my mind in this very moment

There are tens of definitions of the word “stay“; and thousands of songs about this other four little letter word besides love, but none of them means anything because they were not written for or because of you and so I begin to write my own personal definition and/or love song to reason the “why” I want you to stay here; with me.

the day we fell in love

Stand still together… Just like the water when there’s no wind.

My intention isn’t to scare you off, but to give you some perspective, and making you see that it’s not such a bad place after all. Is where you met me so… 

I do not know if I was or am any good at this, but what I do know, is that, I will never stop trying my best to make you smile, to make you happy the way you deserve to be. Stay, so I can prove you.

You told me that your flaw is doing things too little too late. Stay, so you will never feel that way again.

I am good at taking care though. I’ve been taking care of myself since I was seven, so I know that, if you let me, I will take care of you with whatever you need whenever you need it. Stay, so I can take care of you.

You told me that the first thing you want from me when you get back, is to feel my hands on your back. Stay, so you can fall asleep with my touch every time we’re sleeping together.

I wrote on your skin since our first night together and you gave me permission to wrote about you here. Stay, so I can make you my favorite love story ever written.

You were surprised when I texted you the next day after you left. I only wanted to know if you were good like I always ask you, not what are doing but if you are okay. Because that’s what matters to me, for you to be good, even if it’s not with me. Stay, so you can give me the chance to surprise you everyday.

I was worried sick when I didn’t heard from you for days but instead of going crazy and imagine the worst case scenario, I thought about you being safe and I waited. I waited for you to give me that “heii” so I could breathe with my eyes closed again. Stay, so I can keep you safe.

You gave me your necklace and a piece of you within it. I have it with me everyday, that much it means to me. Stay, so you will never lose it.

I fell in love with you the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once. I love you. Stay, so I can show you the way you were meant to be loved.

You were the first that said “I love you” after I fell asleep one night, and even though they were written, you were the first to have said it. This means something, so stay love, stay so I can respond to you, stay so I can tell you how much you mean for me every time you look into my eyes, stay so I can write these words on your skin over and over again.

Stay… so I can give you the freedom to leave anytime you feel like it. Stay, so you remember me when you leave. Stay, so you will always have a home when you come back. Stay, so I can make you follow your heart… Stay, so you can choose what’s best for you while I hold you.

In the end, my love for you will never fade away, it will only get stronger with time, so, I will still be here, waiting for you to kiss me, hold me, love me again. Forever yours, my lover…

“love u, always have, always will” she wrote on his heart

Conversations

4:34 p.m.
Location: Bucharest
Akua Naru – Poetry, how does it feel

“my ghetto butterfly flew away from me, i wait patiently. by windows and doorsteps, play make believe as my tears pour to my chest. won’t succeed to breathe if not the hear of you. surely there hasn’t never been a shade so blue. a stank attitude, so not mad at you. not a magnitude to encompass the latitude of my love for you. no space or time compatible. what do i have to do.”

I wonder… What do you see when you look at me? Do you miss me when you hear my name? How does it makes you feel? Do you cringe, yell, panic, sigh or breathe happily… Why feel sorry for me? What is it that made you say “I’m sorry”? The guilt, the need to say it in order to excuse yourself, what? Why?

I’ve had some responses to my latest post, one that led to a seven hours conversation about life and death, about the fact that I’ve been put through so much bullshit when I didn’t deserve it; quoting: “No one should have to go through what you’ve been”. I disagree, in a way. No one, but me. Because I take risks never considering the consequences. Maybe that’s stupid, but it’s the only way I know how to live, the only way I feel I am doing what I’m supposed to do, being left alive for so long. This doesn’t mean I haven’t learned from them;

Maktub – she tattooed on her wrist…

I much rather prefer a short intense life that a long sick one, behaving with my body like it’s porcelain. I live intense or not live at all. I love with all my being or not love at all. I am sick and tired to keep my feelings for myself, afraid they’ll hurt someone. Deal with it or run away. I can accept that. Can you?

I’ve made peace with myself and I know that if I pretend I’m any less than I actually am, I would live a lie. “We accept the love we think we deserve” one said… I know now, I am not going to settle for anything less than “ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can’t-live-without-each other love”. And this also applies to my way of living.

I never felt sorry for myself. I never complained. I often think I somehow, ever since the day I was born, brought this on myself to push my limits and see how much can I take. I did this to myself in order to find out why. Just why. -Because it’s my purpose in life, I am here to help you. I am in your life because you called me, because you needed someone and the universe sent me. I am here, I am in your life not because I need you, but because you need me. My only need is to write about you, me, us in the hope that someone will find comfort in these stories.

Call me a bitch, call me a selfish whore, a bad person if you’d like, call me whatever, the truth is that, I am what you wish you’d be, if you’d have the courage not to say stop, but bring it on, I can take it. I much rather prefer for people to see me like a bad person than a vulnerable one. I feel safer this way.

You know I cried yesterday writing those words, not because I was reliving my past but because from the beginning I saw the light at the end of the tunnel and entrusted my life to my soul, my spirit believing for sure that there is a reason this keeps happening to me. I was prepared for this kind of life ever since I was a fetus. I am not tired to say stop, enough, I am used to it. It’s a whole other level very few people can say they reached.

I do not know how to say stop and send this message to the universe. Maybe it would put an end to it and also think I had enough, that I learned my lessons and he can let me go… It would be easy right? What if I do it and it stops for a while only to hit me harder in the future? Wouldn’t you wanna be prepared for it and not ask over and over again “why me?” What would you do?

I feel like I have to keep on fighting for my right to be here, in this world. “Be good, get good or give up.” I am the best me I can be today. I was the best me I could be yesterday. I will be the best me I could be tomorrow.

Pain is just (she sighed with relief)… I am used to be in pain. Don’t feel sorry for me. I am used to be hurting so much that you will never know I am breaking inside and out if I don’t tell you. Without pain, I wouldn’t know what true happiness feels like. So keep on throwing them in my face, keep on keeping on, I am ready for you. Are you?

This is poetry…

Hello October

5:42 p.m.
Location: Bucharest
The Drums – Days

“And now days go by…”

grey

It was a cold rainy day of October. Her mother took life into her own hands and went to the hospital to see why hasn’t she been given birth yet. She was 10 moths pregnant and scared not knowing if she’s having a baby or something else. They had to induce her labor and at exactly 8 p.m. on October the 8th, 1991,  a little girl took her first breath in spite of the complications.

At the age of 4, the little girl was faced up with yet, another complication that made her allergic to clean, pure air. She saw the sea for the first time at that age…

Years went by and the girl was now proud to say that, at the age of 15, she never had to deal with hospitals. One year later she was very close to personally meet leukemia. She got away with it, only to get sick by another disease that kept her weeks in hospitals and beds, a disease that could have ended her short journey in this world. She found out that she had to take pills for the rest of her fragile life in order to keep her legs and life.

She was 17. And on the same year, on Christmas Eve nonetheless, she had a car accident that luckily left her with a broken leg, a bump on her head and a cracked tooth. Passing out in the middle of the street became like a habit when she was also diagnosed with anemia.  

A few days after her 21st birthday she had another car accident, leaving her bruised and bleeding trying to find her way home, being a hit and run, wondering how many of these things does she have to endure in order to prove she’s worthy of living. She remembered then what her mother used to tell her ever since she was little: “The universe does not give more than you can handle”…

On her 22nd birthday she was scheduling an operation in order to save her life, yet again…

She is 24 today. And she does not celebrate her birthday because she does not know how long she has left. She stopped her treatment and gave up on counting days in order to live as she believes she deserves, writing about her life for you to know that there is something to live for, there is a reason why you are still here. She considers herself one of the luckiest people in the world to have found it. She is here now, writing on her birthday, sipping on martini and smoking, doing the only thing she knows how to do, telling you the truth and maybe, making you trust that, beyond all the b******t, there is a reason why you are still alive, you just have to find it!. 

(re)falling in love with October… 

PS: Thank you for the kind wishes ;)

serendipity

6:42 p.m.
Location: Bucharest
Far Far – Yael Naim

“Far far, there’s this little girl, she was praying for something to happen to her, everyday she writes words and more words just to speak out the thoughts that keep floating inside, and she’s strong when the dreams come cos’ they take her, cover her, they are all over, the reality looks far now, but don’t go…

How can you stay outside?
There’s a beautiful mess inside

Far far, there’s this little girl, she was praying for something good to happen to her, from time to time there’re colors and shapes dazzling her eyes, tickling her hands, they invent her a new world with oil skies and aquarel rivers, but don’t you run away already, please don’t go…

How can you stay outside?
There’s a beautiful mess inside
Take a deep breath and dive
There’s a beautiful mess inside

Far far there’s this little girl, she was praying for something big to happen to her, every night she ears beautiful strange music, it’s everywhere, there’s nowhere to hide, but if it fades she begs “oh lord don’t take it from me, don’t take it yourselves”

There’s a beautiful mess inside and it’s everywhere so shake it yourself now deep inside, deeper than you ever dared… there’s a beautiful mess inside…”

beautiful mess

Serendipity: the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way, finding something good without looking for it… Cause the universe works in ways my mind will never be able to understand so I look for words or songs to describe a glimpse of what lies inside my soul at this very hour. Cause I dreamed with my eyes opened and closed and I found dreams that suits my disposition, that make me smile when they come and leave me with a taste of something sweet to last until I fall again. Asleep or down…

At the end of everyday, all that remains are the words I write in my head or on a dream, on clouds or stars and it gives me the exact amount of perfection to get through the night. They are all I have and I give them away to anyone who accepts them at their own understandment, in their own terms of limits they impose to themselves. It’s the only way I show you my emotions…

A surreal state of mind… I roll another cigarette and I stare at my screen and the words float around and writes themselves onto the walls and there are colors everywhere and it’s the perfect chaos among the fog of the last night cigarettes that in this very moment completes my out of place state of mind…

We are all misunderstood, we are all insane, we are all unfortunate in some ways, we are all colors and shapes with no definition, we are all a storm with no direction, we are all fucked up in ways no one can imagine, we are all a beautiful mess inside and the only way to accept and live at peace with ourselves is to let go of everything, we owe it to us to let loose in order to feel everything that is to feel. I can’t fully understand it, and I may never will, but if I hide my feelings, my thoughts, I will never be able to live this dream the way it was meant to be lived…

I tremble, my heart is beating uncontrollably, there’s a weight pressing on my body but I float around with my words…

The missing type

12:39 p.m.
Location: Bucharest
Jessie ware – The Album

If you type “I miss you” on google you get about 391,000,000 results.

If you google the definition of it, you get about 72,400,000 results.

the first link I clicked defines it like this:

  • Missing someone isn’t about how long its been since you’ve seen them last or the amount of time since you last talked. It’s about that very moment when you are doing something and you wish they were right there with you.
  • When you haven’t seen someone you care about for some time and you want to see them again.
  • Heartfelt way of telling someone that their absence is felt.

Pretty accurate, right?

I miss you

A few days ago, I used some pictures as a motive to get in touch with someone, a long lost dear friend of mine. She was glad I did so and we talked a little and we said our goodbyes and our “we should talk more”… My surprise came this morning when she texted me this: ” I’ve told you, I would like it if we could talk more. So, I thought I should start… To be honest with you? I don’t know why we got cold. I can’t remember fighting, I can’t remember discussing something we shouldn’t have discussed. I just know I left your image to be blemished by someone else… probably we didn’t had something in common back then… I’ve missed you and all this time I’ve thought about you. I wanted to know that you are alright, your photos looked like you were happy. I’m sorry I didn’t had the guts to ask you and not your photos how your life is! I’m so happy you got in touch, whatever the reason, thank you! I miss you! ”

I miss you. Just as simple as that, I miss you too. The other three little words that can change your day, month, year or life if you let them do their thing.

I have been missing so much on so many things and so many people I forgot who I used to be and when I get lost like this, I remember so much… I remember how I used to feel, how I used to be and how I used to make people feel about themselves. I liked thinking of me like an emotional tornado, that comes in your life to undress you of all your prejudices and all of your beliefs, to give you the freedom of doing all without someone, anyone judging you. If I ever did that for you, you know what kind of person I am, if I ever did that, then my job is done… And if I ever did that for you, you gave me the right to be missing you. And so I am right now. Shaking and smiling and typing these three little words to you right now. I am, the missing type…

I never fully understood my mission here but with little steps, it’s coming together now. My mission is to write about you, about me, about anything that changed the way I am and will be, so that you can come here and find your place in my bed of feelings put into nice words, not big words, just nice… or cute if you want… I like to believe that this is the reason I’m not dead yet. Puts a smile on my face : )

Today, my mission is to tell “I miss you” to those who changed me, to those who shook me to the core, to those who made me cry any kind of tears, to those who, still, mean something for me. Even if it’s hard and it’s been like three years, write these three fucking little words and get it out there in the world… You’ll never know until you do so, you will never know the answer until you press send cuz I know you don’t have the guts to call…

I miss you.

Quote of the day: All action result from thought, so it is thoughts that matter : )