I wish waking up was optional.
I wonder sometimes… maybe we’re just hallucinating vivdly… Maybe we’re not really here, and there’s a whole other world we need to wake up to.
People would normally ask “what drugs are you on?” and I’d normally answer ” Unfortunately none”
See…. it’s true that people need an escape, from everyday routine and pain… from the nasty people and the nasty events they never predict…
But there has to be more than that.
Empty days are so.. lonely… so sad. I wish summer came faster.
I wish I’d grow old and die, faster. I wish whatever I’m here for happened faster…
I think the loneliest place, often, is my own bed. And the empty walls around it, I keep staring at for no reason.
We’re in a huge game of Sims… and we’re running around, eating, sleeping and doing things to keep us busy. We don’t need any of it, perhaps… It’s a time filler… Or maybe we’re here to gain exp, fight the boss and get ready for the next level. And then the next… Maybe we are going somewhere.
Maybe we’re here to make teams and focus a lot of energy together… but that takes too much time.. Even more as wars divide us. Wars only we create, finding differences.
I don’t know.

But I will say this…
My days are empty… my house is empty and my heart is empty. And I am bored of living and tired of giving, and I wish I could just disappear… Nap for a few years, just hibernate.
I wish I had an option when I was born. People shoulnd’t poop out kids when they feel like it. You’re deciding to shift a soul from one world to another, you’re dragging it here, because you feel you want that. I do want kids, I always did. But adopting seems more relevant right now…
I don’t think parents realize how hard it is to live… because they made the best of what they had and they got used to the rest.. Now they’re just waiting for an end.
We’re still fighting it, we know there’s more out there.

I was born all alone… I never really had someone to start with. I just met some and stuck close to them along the years… But people come and people go… I always had what I needed, thank you. I have friends and I have love… And sometimes it’s hard… because the empty days catch you all apart, or hung up in your daily things… One’s at school and the other at work… one’s here the other there… No matter how often you call, it seems you’re bothering them and not realizing anything … But… Eventually it gets better.

I am an optimist.

Hello.
How’s your night?
I always end up asking my friends to tell me a story whenever I am sad or lost… Yet they always end up dazzled and unable to say a thing… Well… at least not something complex with a beginning and an end.
People really lost their magic, I swear. Where are the story tellers? Have we lost that wonderful ability? To mix word with feelings to create magic?
Alas…
I was contemplating on how low the world can sink, after the discovery of how severe my cold was getting, yet ignoring it to go to a barbecue on Saturday.
I drank a Theraflu quickly and went off to the woods. When it was around four and people finally arrived ina finite number, complete form…. they argued over stones and fire wood… while the raw meat stood there next to them. They brought chairs and a table, but only two blankets and one tent, for the ten of us.
Of course, some of us didn’t even sleep. I saw the crowd get together around eight, after they ate the meat me and another girl cooked over the fire me and her build up with the stones I carried alone, laying on the margins of the firewood.
The boys just gave orders and argued without moving an inch.
So we ate and I quickly found the hammock. Oh God yes, I love it. I just sat there shivering as a catastrophic earthquake, due to my lack of blood circulation.
But I loved that moon and those stars. I did. And I even loved them after that call… I do appreciate people when they take time to show their care, all form of care for me.
So I cried my eyes out… and I cried some more… And I prayed to my maker and I thought of my lovers… the souls I miss and I’m without. I cried out for a hug, a hand and some form of comfort, because it really hurt.
The girl who helped me make the fire and the food showed up to cover me with a blanket. She thought I was asleep. She found me and woulnd’t leave until I told her what was wrong.
Apparently the “i m ok, don t worry” thing doesn’t work so well when you re crying and shaking like a mental person. Not that I woulnd’t be, most probably.
We talked, until this drunk loser boy comes to us and goes under that hammock. We asked him to leave but we just moved into her car. We talked a bit more and then we started uo the fire again. It was really cold. We just kept it going the whole night. I stopped crying around two a m. Though I’d start again and then stop and then start… Ah well.
The same guy comes over and does this terribly loud humming noise, like he was actually screaming, and I asked him to stop. Three times…. until he started again… and I poured around half a litre of water on his crotch and face. I did warn him…
I did however let slip some words…”I understand why everyone hates you, now”. That was mean… I was sorry. I still am.
We left the place at five a m. I grabbed the first bus to my house. I thought I’d sleep instantly… but I couldn’t. So I stayed up and paced the house… until four p m… crying a bit more and stopping again. None of it made any sense… where did I go wrong?
I kept thinking that… and overthinking that.
My helpful appartment inhabitant and friend shed some light to my red, exhausted, wet eyes… And he said ” could it be you’re giving too much?”. Yes. that’s it.
The source of my pain is the one thing I enjoy most…. Giving… Loving… Offering and helping. If I were to limit this, and risk not being myself, fully… for a while at least…. Maybe…. just maybe…. I wouldn’t hurt as much… The formula to a secret my mother never unlocked? I have to keep searching for the answers she never found.
She’s beyond help perhaps, but I am still young.. physically. Because mentally and emotionally, I am very old.
And I am sorry… I am sorry I attracted this, I am sorry I don’t value and respect myself enough, and I am sorry for the things and people I have lost.
I am Not sorry for who I am and how much I love.
I am not going to apologize if I am not sorry for asking you out and loving you.
I am not sorry for the hugs and the kisses… nor for my opinions and words, because I carefully measured them all. Each and every one. I always thought twice before opening my mouth. I may talk a lot, but I know what I am saying.
I am not sorry for what I do and what I say. I am not even sorry you treat me this way.
You are lost and confused and stubborn… but I am a being of energy, light and love. And I can’t hold onto grief and hate… And I forgive you. And I forgive myself. I love all but I least of all love myself… for I know not how to love… anyone who is me… as much as I know how to love those who are not me. I was never taught… how to love myself.

Si am ajuns aici. E aprilie.
Stiam ca e posibil, daca ma tot supun in mod masochist unei serii de tortura sufleteasca… sa termin astfel, in depresie si cu ura mea iesind la suprafata.
La o adica abia astepta… Stie ca o las.
Simt ca nu pot fii eu insami, nu pot vorbi si nu pot gandi, trebuie sa am mereu grija ce zic si ce arat, ca sa nu se supere vai Doamne… si nu i pot spune nimic. E mai rau ca A… Si sa iti marturisesc ceva.
Are parti bune.. toti au avut.. Si nu neg micile momente cand ne intelegem… dar sa te bucuri si sa sarbatoresti ca ai avut o conversatie cu cineva fara sa va certati… nu e normal.
Si mi-e dor de A…. pentru ca el era empatic, dar C nu este… si pe cat de nesimtit putea fi adesea… prin nepasare si comportament miserupist… avea momente din astea… cand ma lua in brate si putea sta cu mine oricat doream fara sa vorbeasca.
Mi-e dor si de conversatiile noastre.. puteam vorbi orice.. si era asa … eliberator.
D nu m-a mai sunat de doua luni… cu C nu pot vorbi nimic. Mai degraba as vorbi unui perete. Pana si Mia ma asculta mai mult…
Nu credeam ca poate exista cineva atat de lipsit de empatie, si egoist… si ghici ce, e si posesiv.
Masochismul meu nu are limite, si iata-ma.. plang si ma victimizez, dar eu am cerut-o.
Si de unde era sa stiu eu cum e el de fapt… in relatii sau … in general…?
Si de ce sa comit suicid sufletesc pentru un om fara de suflet… care tine pentru el departe orice a mai ramas din el… Pentru ca in final nu este datoria mea sa ii vindec pe toti, sa inghit acest comportament si sa… Mai ales.. sa rup din mine pentru a il intregi pe el.
Sunt si eu om… desi nimeni nu observa.
Si ma simt singura. si trista… si am tot luptat si am tras… de nebuna… Acum nu o sa mai fac asta.Acum vreau sa fiu singura si sa ma lase in pace. Nici la munca nu ma lasa.
Si nu suport comportamentul feminin, e prea …. deranjant, ma zgarie, ma agaseaza… Al celor de la munca dar si al lui. Si nu am grija de mine…

M-am tot rugat si am sperat sa dea masina peste mine. Nu, nu asa ca joi seara, cand abia a zgariat botul taxiului meu…Dar sa ma ia din plin, sa ma rostogoleasca, sa ajung la spital sau in coma… Sa stau o vreme acolo. E drept ca pe moment ma sperii si din instinct as evita si n-as dori raul corpului meu.E foarte real cand vine ceva spre tine. Si rapid.
Cui ii pasa…Macar de s-ar merita.
Vreau sa dispar…
Ziceam ca sunt puternica…ca nu ma doboara nimic, sunt femeia minune. Si puterea mea are o limita. Si Superman are o slabiciune… Si am facut tot, jur.
Aveam pe aici, acum cateva luni, o postare care cita:
Don’t cry.. I know you are trying your hardest.
Aia ma face sa plang. Orice zi, orice moment. Pot sa fiu senina, fericita, ce vrei tu..

Da, toate fetele… si multe pitipoance… asa au ele prieteni din astia morti dupa ele si le fac toate mofturile… ii trateaza urat si ii ignora. Exact ce trebuie eu sa fac si.. din bun simt nu pot.
Mamele ar trebui sa invete copiii lor.. imediat dupa bun simt… sa fie nemilosi si putin egoisti.
Invatati-i sa nu fie prea buni, sa nu lase de la ei. Lumea n-o sa ii invete ce e bine pentru ei.. O sa ii rupa in bucati si vor uita cine sunt. Si de ce sunt.
Invatati-i sa nu mai rupa din ei insisi pentru oameni care trebuie sa se intregeasca singuri.. Caci fiecare e responsabil de sine, si pe cat de bun si milos esti, pe atat te vei lasa distrus pentru a fi altuia bine… amagindu-te ca iti ajunge. Ca asta voiai.

Omul ar trebui sa se iubeasca si apoi sa invete pe altul sa poata sa se iubeasca la randul lui.
Si abia apoi invatati-i matematica si sex. Abia apoi cariera si apoi doar, sa iubeasca un alt om.

Cand sunt destui oameni tristi pe lume, seara, in liniste, norii incep sa planga.
Noi putem chema ploaia. Noi avem durere si privim in sus, cu toata durerea noastra.
Stii de ce suntem tristi? Ne creeam propria tristete, o alegem in favoarea fericirii.
E mai greu sa creezi fericire dar mai usor sa alegi tristete.
Sunt obosita… E un joc obositor de prinselea, unde fugim in cerc, tu si eu..
Care pe care… Nici unul nu renunta.
Ce-i drept am tot lasat de la mine… si tot eu ma simt prost…
Oamenii ma fac sa ma simt prost… pentru ca ei se simt prost… pretinzand ca uneori eu ii fac pe ei sa se simta prost… Desi n-o fac. Eu ajut. Eu ridic, sprijin si vindec. Ei se fac sa se simta prost. Aleg tristete, si mi-o dau si mie. Vor sa ofere ceva in schimbul ajutorului meu, dar nu cunosc altceva, nu stiu sa ofere decat tristete. Iar eu va trebui sa accept, sa o purific si sa creez fericire, ca apoi sa le dau si lor… Si e greu.
Aseara am adormit plangand, iarasi… si am visat .. unul din visele mele.. acelea mai speciale.
Am visat nebunia. Un monstrulet negru si slab, lung, inalt ce ma primea, ma chema… iar eu m-am dus direct spre el.. L-am lasat sa ma ia in brate, l-am ales, l-am imbratisat si eu… Ma privea ranjind si ma facea sa rad cu pauze… Imi sucea incheietura mainii… Iar eu m-am trezit razand cu pauze ciudate, in somn…
Eu stiu ca am tot flirtat cu Moartea de cateva ori, ce-i drept, nu neg. Si stiu ca ma vrea de ceva vreme… poate ii sunt datoare, sau poate i-am picat cu tronc.
Macar sunt apreciata undeva, ce stii … Dar hai sa raman pe subiect.
Am avut vise in care mortii ma chemau si ma invitau la vesnicie, in alte lumi… Vise in care eram fugarita sau ma ascundeam uneori. Mai rar insa… Ce-i drept niciodata nu eram chiar singura..
Incerc sa ma descurc cu noile probleme, cu stresul acestui om iubit, cu munca si cu departarea bizara de prietenii mei ce nici n-am observat-o…
Trebuie doar… sa … renasc. Sa revin, sa ma relaxez, sa ma vindec, sa ma iert.. Sa am rabdare.

Sunt stangace, pe tastatura. In stangacia mea, am decis sa scriu astazi aici..
(Mai folosesc uneori ambele maini, pentru viteza dar ajung sa ma autosabotez, pentru ca tastez gresit si sterg… apoi revin cu literele corecte.)
Sunt ambidextra, de fapt. Cu dreapta beau, cu dreapta scriu pe foaie si cu ea desenez. In general, tot cu dreapta servesc sau atac la volei.
Imi place sa ascult muzica clasica, sau voci soptite la teatrul radiofonic de la zece seara. Imi mangaie urechile, voci masculine cat si feminine, soptind sau recitand.
Imi place mult sa desenez, si sa observ oamenii din jur… sa ii analizez.
Imi plac mult dulciurile si chipsurile sau semintele. Lucruri sarate. Desi ma stramb, imi plac si lamaile. Dar urasc cafeaua. Urasc doctorii… si urasc ipocrizia si nedreptatea… Eu cred in expresia Ochi pentru ochi si dinte pentru dinte. Insa uneori adopt si ” ochi pentru ochi iar lumea va fi oarba” ca sa ma conving sa renunt la o razbunare, uneori…
Imi plac pisicile, cainii, liliecii, soarecii, cam orice e viu inafara de insecte.
Urasc tantarii. Si zgomotul enervant de repetitiv al aripilor de musca.
Urasc societatea si oamenii, si tot haosul creat de ei. Dar iubesc anumiti oameni individual.
Nu mananc ceapa sau masline, morcovi, carne de vita sau de porc.. si mor dupa porumb sau vata de zahar. Nu va mirati daca mai refuz uneori… depinde ce stare am.
Imi plac plimbarile luuuungi pe faleza sau prin parc, cu soare puternic pe cer si uneori si prin zapada. Ador oamenii de zapada.
Adesea cand gandesc sau muncesc, stau fara sa clipesc privind monitorul si incruntandu-ma, rontaind un pix, un obiect de plastic sau un deget de-al meu, la una din incheieturi.
Imi place sa petrec timp cu hobbyurile mele, sa fac ceva pana iese multumitor, daca nu perfect. Nu sunt mare fac al oamenilor care fac glume nesarate si rad tot ei… sau cei perversi si fara scrupule. Sa fim seriosi, toti avem in minte acele informatii dar nu le zicem cu un zambet salivand in fata altora. Si nu atat de des. Caci ce e in vegas, ramane in vegas.. sau dormitor. Mi-ar placea sa spun intr-o zi ca eleganta si tactul ma definesc, dar sunt adesea mai din topor… si prin aspect, si prin comportament si vorbe.
Imi plac informatiile, despre univers, animale, life hacks, useful tips, si tot felul de prostii fara sens… (Cat timp nu intra in categorii care vizeaza aspecte personale ale vietii mele cu care inca nu m-am impacat, ori care nu le consider deloc relevante.) Are sens, nu?
Imi place sa dorm, si Doamne… ador sa dorm mai mult de opt ore zi de zi,  pe cat urasc sa ma trezesc dimineata pentru orice. Daca planeta ar exploda si toti ar muri, as vrea sa se intample inafara dormitorului meu… ca sa nu ma trezeasca, caci nu suport asta.
Nu ma tem de moarte… dar nu m-am impacat cu ideea de violenta a sa. De duritate, de aspect brusc si real. Caci nu poti sterge cu radiera ceva ce se va scrie in pix.
Si mananc supa cu betisoare, caci imi place Japonia si natura lor, parti din cultura lor, si hainele sau cartile, dar sistemul de clan dominant si mancarea lor nu ma impresioneaza.
Adesea dansez prin casa cand nu se uita nimeni, si caut miscari bine definite coregrafic… ceva care sa se simta tematic si standard… nu ceva improvizat si repetitiv.
Imi plac cartile, ceaiul, esarfele si obiectele mici si compacte. Sunt o adevarata burgheza.. Dar imi place si sa arunc un ochi la meciul de fotbal si sa fac galerie unei echipe… Imi place sa mananc fast-food si sa rad de oamenii mai putin inteligenti. Imi place sa fac curat… sa matur si sa spal chiuveta in general.. sau sa duc gunoiul. Nu sa sterg praful sau sa spal vase. Sunt si alergica la murdarie… la praf si la par de pisica, si tot ce e mic si murdar… si peste tot. Imi plac produsele lacatate si provenite de la animale, insa nu DIN animale. Inafara de pate de porc sau cremwursti. Si poate snitel de pui, chiftele si sarmale. Cam atat. Ador supa… cu galuste in special dar si cu taietei. Si pilaful acela moale si bun, nu cel lichid… Si ador mazarea dar fara sos… Imi place grisul cu lapte.. si cerealele, elgumele, fructele, dar desigur, nu chiar toate.
Am insa talentul de a le cumpara cand am bani si a nu  manca ce am luat… insa mai apoi sa tanjesc dupa ele cand nu le am, si sa ma plang ca n-am bani.
Ador maimutoii de plus. Culorile mele sunt verde si albastru. Imi plac florile, liliacul, crinul, trandafirul, si lacramioarele… dar nu prea sunt fana a garoafelor, lalelelor si alte plante din cimitir, pe morminte. Caci acolo le vad.
Nu ma machiez, insa dau adesea doar cu fond de ten si cu balsam de buze.
Nu pot sta o zi fara sa am cateva ore doar pentru mine, singura..chiar de-as fi casatorita cu cinci copii la care sa tin si tot familionul cu mine… De fapt, mai ales atunci.
Imi place sa inot, sau, de fapt, sa ma zbat cat sa nu ma inec… Si sunt mandra de mine. IMi place sa inot pana la cea mai apropiata baliza sa o ating. Acolo ar fi doi metri, si eu sunt mica. Urasc sa fiu aruncata in apa sau impinsa si mai stiu eu ce… am panica de creaturile care mai inoata pe sub stratul vizibil de apa. Si ce sar in sus daca ma atinge ceva…
A da. Nu suport sa fiu atinsa, de straini in general. Nu, mi-e scarba si sila, nu suport. De obicei ma sterg de palton sau de blug daca m-a atins cineva, chiar si din greseala.
Nu pot sta in oras asa mult…Imi place sa stau in casa cateva ore bune pe zi… nu sa ma foiesc in tot orasul intreaga zi. Si nu suport sa nu fiu respectata, ascultata si sa se mai ia si decizii fara sa fiu intrebata… cat timp ma priveste si pe mine ori e ceva ce posed eu.
Chiar si sub scuza aia “credeam ca nu o sa te superi”. Veche.
Am asteptari la un minim de  zece neuroni la fiecare om ce mi se adreseaza.. ori imi trece in perimetru. Apropo de asta, am un spatiu personal la care tin, e acela care e violat mereu in autobuz la ora de varf.. Unii oameni nu realizeaza ca e agresiv sa te apropii de cineva la mai putin de jumate de metru. Eu realizez.
Caut sa nu dau multi bani pe nimic… in general din ce e pentru mine si apoi din ce trebuie cumparat si pt altii… in limita posibilului. Am si momente de rasfat, desigur.
Am lipsa de calciu, vitamine, magneziu, am anemie, ambliopie, strabism, you name it…
Merg de la doctor la doctor de cand ma stiu.
Ador sa mi se aseze pisica pe orice parte din mine, mai putin pe fata sau gat.. Adesea scriu pe blog sau in carnetel pana ajung sa trec in caiet…sau online. Imi plac artele martiale, si artele plastice. Imi plac artele, si artistii.
Mor dupa oamenii ce nu pot pronunta litera R. E un fetis, cred.
Nu prea imi plac schimbarile bruste, neprevazute.. si mai ales daca apar mai multe de una odata.
Nu stiu sa calculez ceva matematic atunci cand sunt obosita, ametita de la bere, sau din scurt… fara avertizare, cu un cronometru in fata. Adesea ma panichez daca sunt pusa in fata unei situatii pe care n-am gandit-o in nici unul din mia mea de moduri.
De fapt, sunt o plangacioasa… adesea plang.
Deasemeni nu am toleranta pentru ignoranti si ingamfati, la fel ca pt cei violenti si prosti.
Nu prea am toleranta nici pentru cei care isi plang de mila mai mult decat o data la un timp anume. Sunt in general foarte inceata… si mandra de cine sunt, asa. Mananc incet, muncesc incet, ma trezesc incet. Nimic nu trebuie grabit. asta, iarasi, depinde de starea mea. Ador rolele… si mai nou si schiurile. Si patinele de gheata… Cam orice sport, banuiesc. Mai putin polo, si poate baschet. Ador caldura si lucrurile pufoase, moi si calde.
Circulatie proasta a sangelui dulce supt zilnic de tantari, vara de vara. Ascult muzica clasica, piese de Shakespeare la teatru la radio si chiar imi place sa alint omul la care tin.
Imi place vara, marea, soarele, nisipul, si muntele cand e totul verde si miroase bine.
Imi plac linistea si momentele in care nu gandesc… Noptile in care nu visez, zilele in care nu muncesc… Si idealul meu in viata este sa inchid telefonul doua zile fara sa ma simt vinovata ca se va supara cineva pe mine.
Imi plac monezile vechi.. si servetele cu model.. Imi place sa stau cu capul in jos la marginea patului… si sa suflu baloane de sapun. Nu vreau sa ies din pat, cam 90% din timpul unei zile, zi de zi. Urasc sa mi se umble in dulap, haine, desene si alte lucruri. Urasc si sa fiu intrebata repetitiv aceeasi chestie… Desi consider ca am rabdare, in general.
Daca mananc ceva ce nu imi place la gust, sunt sanse mari sa vars…
Desi nu par, sunt foarte sensibila… fizic, emotional si mai rar mental.
Ador mamaliga… sau painea goala…. Si pepenele! Adesea o sa casc atunci cand altcineva casca langa mine, sau cand aud macar asta. Si o sa plang daca cineva plange… ma rog… cineva la care tin, in gneral… Sunt empatica…
Ador Craciunul si Pastele. Imi plac artificiile, si yukata.
Ador lampioanele.. si lumanarile. Imi place sa ma joc cu brelocul sau cheile in mana, uneori si brichetele pe care le prind. Ma sperie fluturii… cand se apropie de mine.
Ador limbile straine, cam pe toate…  Si imi plac jocurile de strategie, RPG urile si Sah ul.
Imi plac lucrurile complexe, jocuri de puzzle imense, cubul Rubik’s, Monopoly sau alte lucruri. Mi se face foame la fiecare trei ore. Poti pune ceasul dupa mine.
Variez mereu doar intre patruzeci si opt si cincizeci si cinci de kilograme, dar numai atat.
Am aproximativ saptezeci cm la piept, vreo saizeci in talie si vreo nouazeci si trei la solduri, parca. Sunt incapatanata, si sunt razbunatoare. Imi plac povestile feerice, fantezie, aventura, finaluri fericite. Imi placeau noptile de diafilme, cand nu aveam computer. Imi place sa zic povesti, dar mai ales sa scriu. Vreau sa scriu o carte.
Ador imbratisarile, nu prea suport sa pup sau sa fiu pupata cand ma intalnesc cu cineva ori plec.Nu pot dormi cu lumina aprinsa, cu zgomote si cu orice fel de element perturbator.
Nu fumez… in general… Dar imi place sa mai beau o bere sau un vin uneori.
Nu mi place haosul si agitatia, dar o petrecere mai mica e ok de sarbatori sau ocazional.
E amuzant rau sa facem karaoke. Imi place sa imi fac prietenii sa rada.
Imi place prietenul meu. E pe lista aia To do, din care v-am si enumerat mai sus.
Imi place sa ma stiu utila, si dorita. Am o parte din personalitatea mea care e avida de atentie… Sunt predispusa la herpes, ce enervant e. E genetic. Sunt destul de flexibila si am un fizic relativ ateletic… Desi nu stiu exact de ce imi tot pocnesc oasele.
I am an old soul.
Ca sa inchei… sunt complexa… dificila adesea si complicata uneori. Dar nu sunt musai. Doar eu am datoria de a ramane cu mine pana la final.. si de asta sunt mandra, caci o rezolv.

50 SHADES OF FUCKED UP

“It’s all about that one person you call at 3 am”.
What if I don’t call anyone, what if it’s only me?
I’m sure I have a few friends I could call, pretty sure they’d listen to me, and maybe some will even understand.. But I don’t call. My problems are mine alone. They couldn’t solve them.
“Nobody dies a virgin, life fucks us all”…
Well, It didn’t fuck me the right way, I am a very unsatisfied customer, darling.
You fucked me all the ways but not the one way I needed.
You can walk down the street and look around… everyone’s fucked in a certain way, but you don’t know which is which… They all keep a facade, looks to seem it’s all perfect, they’re untouchable.
Broken people can’t be fixed so easily… Some people are just broken beyond repair…
We can’t have what all the others have, so naturally.. Don’t ask and don’t expect.
We’re broken… And there;s no one to fix us.
Fuck those movies that show perfect couples and happy endings.. It’s usually not like that…
You can, more often than not, end up in a loop.
Remember those movies about teen struggles and how people try this and that once or twice and manage to win and move on in life, and it’s all pink and butterflies..?
What if it doens’t work… What if friends are there but they don’t know what to say or how to help… What if at the end of the day, you still can’t talk about your problems, even though you have great friends and they always listen and support…
What if all the pep talk and gifts to encourage you, still don’t work at all…
What if everyone around you gets through something you just can’t …
And then you feel left behind… You give up and wonder why you ever tried at all.

Those are my 3 am thoughts… those are the ones I can’t run from.
You don’t even bother wording them, you dismiss them when anyone asks, no matter how close… Isn’t that depression creeping in? But no… you deny that…
If people say ‘maybe you’re tired, or stressed’, you say ‘no, i’m ok, i’ve been stressed and tired, i am ok i can still take stuff now’.
Nobody said you’re at your worst,yet. Heal it, treat it, face it, cure it. Whatever it is, don’t ignore and don’t run. Maybe… just maybe… you’ll stare blankly down, standing on the roof of a ten store building in ten minutes. I know you… You’re… spontaneous..
You really need to love yourself, and trust yourself. You can’t keep this up…
Stop asking people why they treat you nicely, why they love you, why they spend money on gifts for you. You DESERVE it. Stop trying to find solutions to things that are NOT wrong. Nobody’s perfect… Look down the street again… Maybe that guy is good at sex but stupid at chess and trivia… Maybe she’s sexy as hell… but wears that make up and that dress because she’s aware of the flawed shape of her hips, her nose, her ankles…
Give it up, you can’t compare yourself, your poor little broken self, to others’ broken little selves. Don’t pity yourself… give yourself as much time to heal as needed, but forget not, you are a strong person, a warrior! Don’t give me shit about not being able to figure things out… You’re the greatest person I’ve ever met, you kept getting up after each hit..
You’re here today… it’s the best place to be.. the best time to be. Just be!
Problems… yes. You’re not the only flower frowning her petals, look around again. Look closer, look better, look longer.
You’ll find a way… You’re not the only one who fails… suffers… hurts… Be kind to yourself. You need it too. Fix yourself, if you can, but accept yourself as you are. Stop fixing others, don’t run from yourself. And there you go, dear. You’re all set to go…

I love you.

The world is in chaos, for several reasons. But they’re related and they’re all, mostly, lack of love, for ourselves mostly, and for others sometimes.

Imagine, just how broken people are nowadays, that they don’t feel they deserve love. They don’t feel well being loved, cared for and pampered…
For most people it’s strange to be loved and worshipped, but normal to love others.

And think just how much more effort they make to set straight something that should have always been straight. Well, it’s only natural to be loved, but to us, it feels unnatural..
So much harder to let ourselves be loved, to receive kindness and love.
See… we grew up in a selfish world, where we learned we should give… and refuse to receive, so that we never owe anyone anything. And we learned that we’re not good enough… We learned we are wrong, and people nagged and cursed at us..
Even the closest friends or family members… They named us this and that… and we believed it. We repeated those words in our heads and then said them to ourselves whenever we did somthing wrong.
We learned to dislike, maybe even hate ourselves.

But, some parents taught their children to be selfish, to put themselves above everything and  everyone, and to love material posessions… Nice clothes and shiny jewelry.
Those kids grew up as “pitipoance”… the superficial girls and “cocalari”, the superficial guys.
They,to some degree, value themselves and think they deserve it all. All the best. These girls get the good, nice guys, and the guys get the wonderful and caring girls.
Why? Well…. Those caring girls think they only deserve so much… these superficial and nasty guys, treating them badly… And the nice guys think they only deserve so much.. those fancy-dressed, body-part revealing girls… because that’s what any guy would want, right? Or maybe the parents agree of these girls… But the nice guys think that’s all they deserve…
Because they are flawed, and who else would want them? we don’t forgive ourselves and we don’t even give ourselves a real chance. We hold grudges against ourselves, there’s no running from oneself… It’s even easier to forgive someone else… why?

That’s the main issue… We only accept what we think we deserve… And if we loved ourselves more and realised we deserve love and much more, no matter what flaws and what mistakes we’ve done… We’d finally be going somewhere. And maybe the world would change, a bit.