I've lost my love muscle

I've lost interest in what people have to offer. I've lost faith they are extraordinary beings!
Now they all seem frightened, ridiculous and so damn average!
The fear of their own mortality freaks them out. They all look like a dear in headlights.
They are living paradoxes: declear they want peace, love and harmony but do exactly the opposite!
Since I started seeing them like this I lost my love for them. My need to please them, take care of them and search for them.

Frica… un sentiment teribil! Ne face sa ne sabotam relatii care sunt promitatoare. Ne face sa ne amintim de toate datile cand durerea ne-a facut sa ramanem fara suflare sau doar de datile cand ne blamam pe noi insine pt ca ne-am permis sa ramanem atat de dezamagiti de propriile vise si planuri facute in doi.

Nu ma intelege gresit! Frica are rolul ei benefic: motiveaza! De aceea, de exemplu frica de a deveni penibila nu ma va mai lasa sa fac nimic pentru a reconstrui ce s-a daramat. Si frica ma va motiva sa imi treaca si de tine, ca de altii! Si imi va iesi, fara indoiala! Vei ajunge si tu unul din lista celor despre care voi spune: “Mneah! He did not deliver!”

Problema e ca ne tot repetam ca avem o varsta si nu mai avem timp de investit, de pierdut cu o persoana nepotrivita, si o penalizam imediat ce iese din parametri. O exilam afara din noi in timpi cat mai redusi pentru a NU PIERDE TIMP!

Ok, si castigam timp pentru ce? Pentru ce daca nu pentru a simti, pentru a cladi relatii, legaturi? La ce folosim tot timpul castigat? La a fii din nou singuri si safe? La a incepe o relatie noua, iar si iar? A creea noi sabloane sau sau standarde de aplicat urmatoarelor persoane care musai trebuie sa treaca CTC-ul?

Era doar asa, o cugetare…

2 the one that got away

Stii...te-as fi putut iubi. Mult! Te-as fi trezit in fiecare dimineata cu un sarut pe ochi si pe nas chicotind de bucurie.
Te-as fi putut strange in brate. Tare! Ca sa simti ca vulnerabilitatea nu poate fi o slabiciune cand esti protejat de bratele mele.
As fi avut grija de tine. Mereu! Nu as fi uitat niciodata ca sunt o femeie iar tu esti barbatul meu.
Te-as fi lasat sa zbori. Sus! Pentru ca nu as putea iubi un vultur fara aripi oricum!
Te-as fi iubit nu pentru ca am nevoie de tine ci pentru ca mi-ai fi imbogatit viata. Te-as fi avut alaturi cu mandrie stiind ca nu-mi aparti.
Te-am dorit alaturi ca sa cantam impreuna, sa facem dragoste si sa nu ne lasam unul pe altul sa ne moaram copilul din noi.
Dar tu ai ales sa nu facem toate astea impreuna! Sper ca motivul e ca deja le faci cu altcineva.

love is a four letter crime...

I stay. I know I shouldn't. I still pray even though it is useless and my faith has left me such a  long time ago. I put my right hand on your bear heart and I don't feel the heartbeat. I am thinking you are dead. But then I noticed that the ghost is in fact me. Funny...I reach desperately to have a strong grip on your heart but all I feel is mine aching. My hands are dust and they keep on splashing on your indifferent body. I am air but not for your lungs anymore. I am thoughts but not inside your mind. The only think that makes me think I might be still alive is the pain...this suffocating pain...terrible...unbearable...but still so comfortable as it smells like you.

I am eager to embrace resting in peace...

Vocile din capul meu imi spun ca nu-s nebuna!

Am inchis ochii pentru a vedea in mine. Am descoperit galerii infricosatoare si magice deopotriva.

Noi, oamenii, traim in lumi fantastice, misterioase numite mintile noastre...Gandurile noastre plutesc in eterul dens din capul nostru. Gandurile au lumea lor, familiile lor, vietile lor, se inmultesc unele cu altele...si dau nastere monstrilor care ne bantuie...

Am invatat an de an, saptamana de saptamana, zi de zi, ceas de ceas si cu fiecare secunda in plus pe masura ce ma scurg inapoi in univers sa imi iubesc monstrii. Am invatat ca si gandurile, ca noi, nu aleg sa se nasca si e nedrept sa le uram doar pentru ca nu le intelegem...

Spunem lucruri indecente, cum ca ne cunoastem unii pe altii doar pentru ca ne stim de mult. Putini avem insa onoarea si curajul de a le face cunostinta monstrilor nostri cu monstruletii din capul celuilalt si sa ii lasam sa faca mai bine pui intre ei.

Cred cu putere că doar dragostea ne salvează... si pe noi, si pe demonii nostrii. Dragostea de orice fel, miros, culoare, forma...

Psychosis

When life will lack meaning again I will energize myself with the memory of you. Those days I will let myself fall deeply into my favorite psychotic episode. I will feel the smell of fresh grounded coffee and taste your awakening kiss on my lips. The crispy fresh cold air filling the room will give me the chills that your body used to give me when enrapturing mine.

The moments when I will be cold again without you, I will take out the jar where I captured some of our moments. I used to store them for the long winter days. I will open the lid and let the butterflies fill the room. I will close my eyes and let those fabulous creatures bring you back again. When they will sit on my closed eyelids I will remember how you used to kiss them. The flapping of their wings will bring back your whispers, smoothly piercing my eardrum. When they will sit on my naked body I will re-live the hot & cold chills your fingers used to give me.

I'll pretend the dream is real and I will remember how you always used to give me exactly what I used to crave for. 

I think the problem with non-lasting love is that we define "love" in general by the verb "I own".  It starts with I don't own her/him. How can I do to make this happen? So we try to get in touch, be noticed, we act like our best selves so that we trap that person. Slowly we sweep them off their feet until there is no way back and the web is all around our victim.

But owning is objectifying. They become our accessories that have to please us. They become our little canary that we place into this gorgeous gold cage, and that has no rights but the ones we decide they have. Then we claim it not to depreciate: it should look, act, function the same way as the day we met them and when we projected all those marvelous dreams along their side.

Most of the times...much to our surprise...this does't work.Then we are either hurt because we lost  ...IT or we get bored. And how can we not get bored? Especially in this age of ever rapid changing technology, when our brain is set to ask for immediate, quick fixes? Our loved one gets old, repetitive and so damn predictable. They get broken, downgraded...And isn't it expensive to keep buying another one, and another one in hope we finally get the best model?

So what if we stop wanting to own them? What if we just lease them on their spear time? What if we let them update on their own and then try their constant improved versions of themselves? What if we stop being afraid of not being interesting enough for them to come back? What if we are both free and not owned by anyone? What is the worst thing that can happen?

And how would you like your pussy, sir?

Men’s favorite dish: pussy. Nowadays the knowledge makes us wonder though: what’s the best method of serving it? Raw, boiled, backed, fried? How can you have more out of your pussy? Well gents, let’s see what’s in the menu.

Ok…so...some men like it raw. Just plain old classic raw pussy. These men do not think pussy should be something you should sweat for. After all, pussy is just pussy, right? You just go, pick a relatively fresh one, serve it and forget about it until you become hungry again. I mean why put on so much effort for a disposable …thingy…It is highly recommended to use very fresh meat each time to avoid the danger of sickness due to the multiple requests women start having caused by staying too long around the same man.

Fried pussy….ok….well you are in town….you pick up a nice, juicy piece of pink delight…you cannot wait to get some home, unwrap it and eat it nice and quick. The sweet sound of the compliments, promises and plans make her think of the music her sizzling juices will make once you get it on. These men measure their manhood on the final result. This dish usually uses venison and it is best when marinated before cooking. Some like it a bit spicy, so they quickly put some salt and pepper and cannot wait to drop it into the hot oil of their hungry desire. Hmmm…sweet, rich and delicious. That is if you don’t burn it, put too much spice or cook it to little. They usually serve this more than once, especially because it brings immediate and quick satisfaction. The taste soon becomes boring so they feel the urge to spice-it a bit or choose another type of venison. In a very short time all the neediness and the crying makes the taste become bitter. Must be the rash that men get from too much estrogen!

Backed pussy…hmmmm…so many recipes…. These men like to oil the entire flesh and thoroughly massage all the ingredients before they start cooking it. The thought of the slooooooowwww heated pussy makes a man think of all the taste-buds orgies he can be rewarded with! And he knows this will pay off one way or another. These men get off by the whole process: being refused a few times, slowly conquering the woman’s mind inch by inch, all the gifts and subtle whispers they invest. It’s all good. This can be a win-win situation if the damn thing does’t stick to the pan!!! The effort of getting it off may cause the man to throw it out with the pan and all.

Boiled pussy. This is somewhat similar to the backed pussy, but a bit more moist and droopy. Usually this course is chosen by men with a sensitive stomach, little experience, little to no imagination, men with serious health or self-esteem problems. This kind of dish may lead to marriage. Cooked this way, the pussy can be conserved for a long time, but in time it will become impregnated with a strong “vanilla (sex)” aroma.

So how do you like to eat your pussy, sir?

Different degrees of missing you

Loneliness overcomes me again. Loneliness becomes me. Becomes my fuel. Takes over.  Drives me. It’s like a constant state of pain and suffocating. A weakness that drains me and puts me out. My eyes hurt so I keep them closed. Life becomes too much to bear between my feelings of guilt, my binging sessions and obsessively listening to suicidal music. The drama queen rules my kingdom today. Orders sound so loud. They pump fear, lack of self confidence, depression that rip my insides. This disease is so cruel. My desperate hand is reaching for life with no results. The thorns of solitude cut into my flesh until pain makes me feel like throwing up my guts, my bloody organs that used to keep me alive through you. Disconnected from you my whole being feels like an appendix… so unuseful. Even the memory of you smells like a perfume named Warmth. Your name sounds somehow like Hope, Light and Oxygen all together. I start tasting you from under my nails where I still have your skin ripped while I was becoming you. The only thing I have left is the cries of my prayers that beg for me to become an empty vessel again. Hoping the next fillings will be yours.

Loveing the undead

I am mourning. I finally let go of love, dreams, excitement. All is left is a hole.  Lightness feels heavy. Silence sounds loud. Life is dead. Tears do not exist in my world. Happy or sad ones. All I pray is to feel again. I pray God exists. Failure seems comic instead of tragic since all is futile. I need fibrillation but I guess I need a heart for that. Flashes of my past life appear and go. My whole life comes back to me. I guess I must be dying. I do not feel pain. Just shortness of breath. Surrender is my anesthetic .  Truth is a lye and vice versa. Floating above I become air. I can see people around. Some laugh some yell. I do not understand why. I am  spreading around, being wasted. Invisible. Impossible. Irreversible. Dry.

I loved a shadow. The ghost of the soul that should have been alive. A soul that never grew up.  I loved the light that should have been your being.

Breath…breath…breathing….. Inspire some life into my lungs. And smile….Really smile….There is life after pain.

"I am not superficial....I am averegely-ficial!!!" (english version)

 Hmmmm…usually I feel just fine with my average-ficiality …but today I wonder…Who could I have been if I was something else than a simple commoner? Guess superficiality is a normal state of things… means normality, and not because it is most common but because it keeps our sanity, a certain balance. Talking every day about philosophy and get into the depths of things is vulgar. Superficiality is a day-to-day thing from which we need from time to time to break away to an exotic all inclusive location named "profoundness".

“I wouldn't say I'm superficial, just averagely ficial.”

Daca e ceva ce urasc foarte tare e sa fiu lasata cu cuvintele-n gura! E ca si cum ai manca ceva cu pofta si dupa ce ai mestecat n-ai voie nici sa inghiti nici sa scuipi! E oribil! Din acest motiv gasesc ca e tot mai greu sa fii placut pentru cine esti cu adevarat. Nimeni nu vrea de fapt sa te cunoasca. Lumea vrea sa fii o prezenta placuta, sa fii bland cu orgoliul lor. As fi curioasa cati barbati ar fi atrasi de imaginea mea despletita, demachiata in pat dupa o masa copioasa citind si ascultand Metallica? Oare cui i-ar placea o femeie cu ticul nervos de a-si devora proprii obraji, razand zgomotos la propriile glume?

Sunt un cizmar fara cizme si o ipocrita ce arunca cu sfatul in dreapta si-n stanga ce are o profunda confuzie legata de propriile dorinte. Oamenii insa persista in a cauta sfaturi la mine. Poate e doar o chestiune de marketing, nu?

Superficialitatea in opinia mea e o stare naturala a lucrurilor, inseamna normalitate. Si asta nu pentru ca e cea mai raspandita ci din cauza ca iti pastreaza sanatatea mentala, un anume echilibru. A avea discutii filozofice zi de zi si a intra in profunzimea lucrurilor mai tot timpul, a frecventa mereu locatii culturale e o vulgarizare a sublimului. Superficialitatea mi se pare pur si simplu viata cotidiana din care mai vrei din cand in cand sa evadezi zburand spre o locatie exotica all-inclusive ori intr-o aventura noua numita profunzime.

14.06.2011

Mi-as dori sa fiu Miss Univers! Oare cum e viata in pielea unei femei superbe? Unii zic ca e dificil!!! Eu zic ca ... daca esti frumoasa...sigur nu mori de foame NICIODATA!

Un lucru mi-e clar acum: traim fiecare dintre noi o poveste pasionala de dragoste ce dureaza toata viata: cu noi insine!!!

Am visat un vis frumos: se facea ca sunt din nou eu! Eram din nou proaspat nebuna! Eram din nou invincibila....zmeul zmeilor feminini! Vorbeam iar limba anceasca......vorbeam iar tare....credeam iar in toate balariile pe care le scoteam pe gura....!!! Se facea ca ma trezeam in fiecare dimineata si ma umfla rasul in secunda urmatoare!!! Se facea ca in loc de liniste era muzica peste tot!! ....ca ma imbracam in cele mai ciudatele haine si purtam palarioare hazlii! Se facea ca eram cea mai frumoasa din tara (ei na! acum n-oi fi din lumea intreaga!!!!!). Se facea ca tu ma iubeai asa cum sunt! Se facea ca si eu la fel....

15.11.2010

"Sa te bucuri de orice clipa atunci cand o ai"...Hmmm... Ce inseamna sa traiesti in prezent? Nu inseamna oare sa supraestimezi clipa? De multe ori am avut neplacerea sa ma bucur nespus de flacari de chibrit... De aceea ma tem de esec... Esecul la o varsta nu ti-e iertat ca alta data... Nu mai tine nimic de imaturitate. Acesta e oficial UN ESEC! Dar de ce ma rog frumos? Nu exista dreptul la o imaturitate legata de un lucru pe care nu l-ai mai experimentat? Daca am o varsta si o anumita experienta, asta inseamna ca ma ajuta sa le rezolv pe altele noi, despre care nu am farama de cunoastere?

Of! Viata asta te fura: te jefuieste, te fura tie insati, te pierzi in ea. Si daca te fura cui ii mai apartii? Ei? Cum poti atunci sa-i apartii vietii cand ea e..."a ta"? Intrebari ce zilele astea nu mi le pot scoate din cap...M-am pierdut din nou...Trebuie sa gasesc un plan de evacuare pentru ca simt revolta...miros razboi! Ma supara toate...in special eu! Unde? Cand? Ce?.... am pierdut? La naiba! As vrea sa am mai multe raspunsuri la mine decat intrebari! Astea le are orice prost!

Siguranta...bat-o vina! (14.09.2010)

Cred ca odata cu varsta vine dorinta de acel sentiment netrebnic de siguranta...Ce poate fi mai plictisitor?...chiar si in masura in care reduc spectrul domeniilor in care am nevoie de acesta blstemata "siguranta"... Odinioara il consideram un blestem...o dovada de lasitate...cu timpul am invatat ca dupa o anumita varsta devine instinct de autoconservare...Deci a ma conserva sau a nu ma conserva? Asta e intrebarea....

Definitii ale momentului 0(10.12.2009)

Straduinta de originalitate, staruinta-n speranta, forta-n a sta pe firul subtire intins al sanatatii mentale si a nu ma uita in jos.
Vise.....unde? Fericire....cand? Implinire......oare? Iubire....ce!??!? Haos total! Puzzle cu piese amestecate din diferite jocuri. Drumuri de urmat...drumURI??? Resemnare?....hmmmm....
Amorteala, somn mental: odihna sau cosmar?
Noapte adanca: frica sau mister?
Noi cautari sau fuga de realitatea greu de infruntat?
Sete de "impreuna" sau bucuria independentei?
Liniste regasita sau bucuria unei noi provocari?
Spontaneitate sau planuri de viitor?
Vise ori realitate?
Locul meu in viata asta sau drumul meu?
Puncte de suspensie.....MDA.....

8.10.2009

Un picur, doi picuri de frustrare, trei picuri de frustrare.....PIC! PIC! Mai e mult pana se umple recipientul fiintei mele!??!?!

28.09.2009

Am iubit o chestie reala sau roadele proprie-mi imaginatii? E oare vreo diferenta intre cele 2? Am iubit oare sincer? Mult? Destul? Des? Frumos? Pentru asta incerc sa gasesc unitati de masura: intensitatea batailor imimii cand era langa mine sau intensitatea durerii cand lipsea?

Cu siguranta stiu insa CE iubesc: iubesc stelele ce stralucesc zilnic pana mor. Nu-mi plac astrii ce stralucesc puternic o noapte si atat! Iubesc oamenii extraordinari in cotidianul lor!

Poltergeist(19.09.2009)

Sunt bantuita de gandul de a recidiva. Si o fac de fiecare data!
Amintirea ta e un lucru atat de gravat in intreaga mea fiinta incat a inceput sa ma defineasca si nici chiar TIMPUL nu pare a fi in stare sa o stearga. Cateodata neputinta mea in fata acestui adevar incontestabil devine prietenul meu cel mai bun, un sal gros, ce-mi tine cald in zilele de singuratate. Deschid asadar portile imense, greoaie ale cerebralului si intru in firescul visarii halucinante. Acolo esti mai tot timpul TU, combinatia perfecta intre spiritualitate si logica, intre erotic si romantic, intre rob si stapan iar eu ma regasesc ingenunchiata in fata altarului ce te reprezinta.
Sunt perfect capabila sa ignor sfaturile binevoitoare ale celor ce vor sa ma aduca cu picioarele pe Pamant. Stiu foarte bine ce vor sa-mi zica, fara indoiala din cele mai bune intentii. Insa dependenta de TINE ma face, atunci cand am putin timp liber, sa ma refugiez cu doza de interzis si irational, sa mi-o administrez si s-o savurez intr-o perfecta impacare cu persoana mea. Sunt de asemenea constienta de faptul ca e o nebunie si totusi mi-o asum. Si de ce m-as descotorosi de o intalnire asa importanta a vietii mele? Dimpotriva, vreau s-o duc cu mine mereu! Pentru ca atunci, de mult, cand tu n-ai fost atent, am furat o bucatica de TINE ce o port in cutiuta bijuteriilor vietii mele. E comoara mea cea mai de pret, dobandita pana-n momentul de fata!

Multumesc!