Revulsion Time

Ce-ar fi dacă...

2009-10-14T08:34:00.000-07:00

Scumpul nostru profesor de matematică este un om minunat. Nu doar minunat ci şi special, iar când spun special, deşi nu vreau să lungesc vorba prea mult, deoarece chiar vreau ca povestea mea să va încânte, mă refer la puterile lui neobişnuite de a fi gumă.

Nu, nu visez, profesorul nostru este o gumă. Se poate intinde, schimba culoarea, răsucii, învartii, transforma in alte obiecte şi are şi diferite arome. Aş putea să modelez această poveste intr-o reclamă. Comndaţi-vă propriul profesor de gumă. Este mic, portabil si roz! Pe deasupra poate fi şi odorizant de maşină. Nu vorbeşte mult şi il puteţi găsi la un preţ accesibil de numai 199,99 lei. Glumesc. Profesorul nostru nu este o gumă de vânzare. Dar ce-ar fi dacă el este un agent top secret de gumă si ne spionează în tăcere? Când el stă pe catedră ca o gumă, nepăsându-i de noi, eu ştiu că de fapt memorează fiecare mişcare a noastră. Niciodată nu l-am văzut deplasându-se, sau ţopăind. Mă intreb cum merge? Se rostogoleste oare ca o gumă cubică? Inseamnă că este expert la coborâtul şi urcatul scarilor. Mereu când intrăm în clasă, el este deja la catedră. Este acesta cumva un joc bolnav? Noi să ne holbăm la el, iar el înapoi la noi?

Într-un târziu mi-am dat seama. Probabil că el de fapt vorbeşte, dar cine ar înţelege limba gumei? Asta să fie oare problema? Dar totuşi, se pare că limba gumei este o limba moartă la propriu, deoarece nici măcar nu o putem auzi.

Când suntem în pauza, iar următoarea noastră oră este cu domnul gumă, colega din prima bancă face isterii. Se pare că profesorul nostru de gumă are şi admiratoare, daca nu şi admiratori. Vreau să spun, cine nu ar iubi un profesor aşa tăcut şi mereu punctual? Multe ori se iau la cearta în oră, spunând fiecare cine îl iubeşte mai mult pe profesorul de gumă, iar acesta roşeşte o nuantă de roz şi tace. Probabil în sine chicoteste şi se visează alături de o colegă.

Dar iată că, într-o zi aflăm de tragicul accident al profesorului de gumă. Se pare că, una dintre admiratoarele sale nu l-a vazut pe hol, şi la calcat. Au incercat din greu paramedicii să-l resusciteze pe bietul rozaliu, dar fără nici un rezultat. Toate fetele au început să plângă şi pentru restul anului au venit imbrăcate în negru. Toţi aveau poze cu profesorul de gumă. Era aşa amabil să ne lase o amintire cu dansul, atâta timp cât mai era incă întreg şi de un roz aprins ca o vată pe baţ.

Peste ceva timp, s-a dat bârfă in ţara că domnul profesor de gumă era de fapt măritat cu doamna profesoară de georgafie carameaua. Nimeni nu ştia cine era aceasta, dar invidia şi nebunia necurată plutea în aer. Ce se mai cred interesante fetele astea... Spuneau că atunci când o vor intâlni, o vor mânca de vie. Ce-ar fi dacă le va da indigestie? Sau dacă a expirat de mult doamna caramea? Daca nu e cu aromă de ciocolată? Pentru că eu urăsc vanilia!

Those Three Words...

2009-10-09T16:07:00.000-07:00

Those three words… perfect as a whole structure, I would want my life to run down freely around them. My being to embrace your perfect forms, so you could forever feel me close. My universe, I would wish to be built only from us. Just you and me… because I can’t imagine it in another way. I want my world, to be you. I would live a perfect life… because for me, in my eyes, you are perfect. My weak, mundane five senses can’t be wrong.

I know you’re the one. I know that you’re the ideal definition of love. I can feel you inside of me. I’m getting so warm. My chest burns with its secretive obsessions I’ve built for you inside of me.
Your calm touch would make me cry tears of happiness. I would love your voice to skim its way towards my ears. I would want to be the only person who could be able to understand you. I want you to see only me because I would have no vision for myself if it weren’t you. I only want to be heard by you. I don’t need anything else… You are my vital signs. You have complete control over me… I would want you to have no mercy. Love me completely, cruelly. Don’t be afraid. I would love it.

Those three words… have said too less. I want to show you the true me. I would love you to read me thoroughly. I would love you to know all of me. The way I talk, laugh, cry and smile, I’m all I am because you make me feel alive. I only need you beside me.

I yearn for you… I call your name when I’m alone. I know you can hear me. I love you more than anything in this world and I want to show it in the right way. I don’t know what’s the right way of doing this but… I hope that I’m enough. I’m all yours… body and soul. I never feel like I’m enough, though. I always wait for you to remind me. I want to hear your voice forever. You are the law I need for my inner world to keep surviving.

My crystal tears, I would want them to taint the white way I’m stepping on, so you would know where to find me. My tears will always show how much I care. And now I just want you so much. I feel like screaming how much I love you. I just want to get this out of me. I’m losing myself in my emotions. I can’t read or recognize myself. I’m someone else when I’m with you. I would want you to never leave me… you have such a deep influence over me. It’s so painful when I need to let you go…

I just want to lay with you in my arms, it wouldn’t matter where. If there’s rain, with you by my side I will see the sun. If there’s snow, with you by my side I will see a field of flowers. If there’s sadness, with you by my side I will feel happiness. If there’s war, with you by my side I will see peace. I’m so deeply lost in my heart. I didn’t know it was eternal. And even so… all my love for you can’t fit in.

Endless earth of love of mine, please keep me here forever. I don’t want to leave my sun, my flowers, my happiness or my peace. I don’t want to let go of my lover’s hand. I don’t want the night to come. I don’t want a starless sky because I wouldn’t want to be blind. I want to see my lover’s face forever. I don’t want day either. I would want us to be delicately tied together by our suave lust. Isn’t there any middle way? The dawn? The dusk? They last too less… I would need an eternity to love you the right way… I would need an eternity to learn how to love you the right way. But I’m not immortal. And neither are you… I’m scared I won’t have time… my life is shortening with every second and I keep using every precious moment to remember your tender voice or your beautiful face.

For you, I will keep reflecting over the perfect love. I will do everything you desire. I will keep calling your name and thinking of you. I will hold your hand forever and I promise you, I will never let it go.
You’re my rare spring flower. Hidden shyly behind the uncertainties. I will make them perish for you. I want to make you bloom for real and feel the love in my voice.

Those three words… with them I want to show you how much you mean to me. Forget everything, have only me, and use only me… I love you.

A drop of contradictions.

2009-09-18T11:58:00.000-07:00

A drop of blood falls from the sky. It grows delicately and slowly. A scarlet rose is being formed from the vital liquid. This is how everything gets shaped in my soul.

A drop of feelings falls from the ceiling of my heart. It grows ethereally and adagio forges in the shape of love.

The only thing that’s inexistent in my soul is time and movement – nothing dares to bulge, nothing dares to change. That doesn’t mean I don’t perform. I do, because there is will, there is need.

A drop of hate skims tardily the wall of my soul and rapidly grows sharper and sharper, covering the place. The edge of the knife is directed towards the core of my soul. The frail part of me is slowly dying. I am strong, though, strong to stop it if I wish to. But I don’t.

A drop of nothing falls loudly. The echo of it travels deep in my being. Nothing is being formed and it hurts me. I can feel the nothing but I can’t fight it. Can someone see my meaningless nothing? Can someone help me?

Silence. Did I win the war that never existed? Did my immaterial sword pierce my immaterial enemy? Why is it always so noisy inside myself? I can’t even hear what I’m thinking. Stop screaming, please, stop screaming. It’s so quiet when I’m not around, nay, dead soundless.

A drop of light falls – it doesn’t move. My core grows agitated as the light disappears and all it’s left behind is a mirror. Someone picks it up with a delicate swing of the wrist and directs it towards her face. How could I be so blind? Why couldn’t I hear the sound of her steps? She has always been there, my love, my blood, my life, my heartbeat, my drop, my nothing, and my light.

Admiring herself, the reflection of her cherubic face is being refracted on my soul walls. The icy, transparent knife blade melts in the touch of her white wings. I’m burning on the inside. My love for her can’t materialize but I feel it more than ever. If I could offer it on a spiritual tray, it would for sure be too heavy and too precious to risk taking it out unguarded. I would be left without anything. My nothing would come back and force me to perish. But my angel wouldn’t be selfish; she wouldn’t ask to give my life away. She hugs the frameless mirror close to her bare chest. Her palms and skin start bleeding sweet blood.

A drop of blood falls from the sky. I would never let my angel go. She chose to enter my lifeless chamber and now she’s chained to the nonphysical me. I embrace her close and wait till our end will find us both. The mirror is cold but my angel is warm.

A drop of snow falls and the tiny crystals are covering my angel’s wings. Have you ever seen something so beautiful? I melt in myself waiting for my love to do the same. Spring is when winter is. My angel is my devil and the immaterial me is the material me. My blood is nothing and my feelings are everything. My hate is the war and my light is the peace.

A drop of ink falls. With her last will, my angel writes “I love you.” on the unreal floor of my bottomless soul, her buoyant move of the hand leaving behind a vivid sound. Her arm drops to the ground in complete bluster.

I am happy and complete. Her delightful surrender enchanted me. Our immaterial souls are together, our hearts beat at the same time, our blood we share, and our mind is one. My angel is mine forever – my love, my blood, my life, my heartbeat, my drop, my nothing, and my light.

I love you, beautiful.

Discution with Life

2009-07-20T05:41:00.000-07:00

And here I am again. A second ago, I had a thought, a revulsion in my heart. It said:

“You sure are lonely”

Yes, that’s true. But I did it to myself with my own two hands. And now I have to repair it – alone of course – because when you need help everyone is pretending that they don’t know you, that they never met you:

“What’s your name, child?”

Heh! That’s right! That’s how people are.

It was a time, when I thought love meant everything. I found out that I was SO wrong. That’s the price I had to pay for being young and naïve; even a little selfish and perverse. I remember not wanting to go out with my friends because I wanted to stay with X. I couldn’t stand knowing that X’ll be there and I wasn’t, so I started to refuse everyone’s offers and just stay home.

In the end, I made a disclosure about myself. For example I am so immature – that scares me. I am so inexperienced – but this vanishes with experimenting more. I am so jealous – now I know it’s inept. I don’t know how others think but I learned my lesson. To top it off, I’m short-tempered and so possessive – again useless and ludicrous characteristics of my behavior.
But the weird thing is, that I don’t completely regret doing so. Guess getting to know more about yourself is obligatory and imminent in life. If you don’t get to know yourself is like you’re not alive, an animal.

In time you perceive how much you’ve changed. So take 10 seconds off your precious lifetime and peer at yourself in the mirror. Something changed? Maybe your haircut… something even more drastic – your looks. The way you think about yourself have modified – elevated words, longer phrases, many new ideas and much many rapturous dreams that your bosom can’t content.

From the pulpit of your own heart you have to superintend yourself. Read the others before they read you, talk first before anyone else does and do it connectedly. Don’t haste and don’t mourn. Everything has to be put in balance. Like happiness and sadness; good and bad. They cannot exist without each other because if one of them were missing you wouldn’t have known how you feel. What makes you so complex and hard to understand wouldn’t be there, automatically making you to not be there either. Don’t play truant like I did but don’t attend every triviality.

The former and the latter – that counts a lot. Think about yourself wanting to hire somewhere – desperately needing the job – but you were the second to wait and when your turn comes they send you home:

“Who are you? We don’t need you, child.”

Why everything passes by so quickly? This is the way we live – passing by moments – birth, opportunities, friendships, hardships, lovers and then death. How funny that everything else can be a plural but birth and death cannot. It’s nostalgic.

Sometimes you wish that you can commence your life all over again even if you know that it’s such an aberration you say right there. It’s not like you can pause and replay life as you wish. To make it more clearly, its life that makes you and not you making life. I never said I believe in fate. I don’t. But I believe that everything happens for a reason.

My reason is to go on – with or without being friends with X or with anyone else.

I always thought that the loneliness I feel makes me want to express myself through writing – yes I still believe in that. Because many friends I don’t really have but when I write something, I write it for everyone that clicks on it and reads it.

“What’s your name again, child? I feel like we talked sometime before.” That’s how everything goes. You remember and forget, and remember and forget in a never-ending circle of life.

What’s that sometimes we feel out of place and useless? How come? Why do we think that way? How come I don’t have a place if I sit right now in my chair? How come I feel useless when I know that I’m growing up and studying to help mom out with her financial problems? I do have a place! And yes I know my purpose in life! But for everything that’s good in this world I’m just 15! Think about it more. This is what I want? Yes… maybe… no… I don’t know! Indecisive so indecisive. Pathetic? Maybe, but no I don’t think so. Maybe a little smart but again I’m just 15. You don’t learn all this reading them from someone else because they can mean a lot of different things for your own person. You don’t learn them by dreaming how could it be. You learn them in a lifetime and even then, you’re still not experienced enough. You’ll always say:

“I was so naïve”

And after 10 years again:

“I was so naïve”

You will never change because as you grow up the hardships are heavier. World does not stagnates and you know it. You just don’t see it moving because you get older at the same time it does. Some do observe – some do feel something has changed. But what’s so good in that? You get all worried that you’re left behind and in the end after going through all the suffering you think:

“That’s it! I don’t want to feel anymore so I’ll latch myself up between these four walls of mine just to be protected more.”

That’s leading to not living your life. And besides what’s the stress in doing that if in the end you’ll open up to an imbecile and you’ll get heartbroken exactly when you feel alive for the first time in so long?

I learnt to be more selective; more selective and more sensitive – not necessarily overreacting with selections but definitely exaggerating with my sensitivity. Some people are like that. And for sure I don’t feel like I’m the special one, the one in the billion.

We are the genuine girls and boys of today but we see ourselves as trifles. Fretting fussily till we reach the point everyone does – when you breathe for the last time – tasting what you’ve been tasting for all your life but never felt it to be so precious before. We all share delusions… But what if even death was a delusion? I would have been so desperate because death is supposed to be peaceful and let life carry all the exertions and the battles to stay alive.

“So what was your name again, child?”

I still don’t know that but for sure you’ll hear about me again, Life.