Razorblade Romance

I want...

2009-10-13T05:09:00.006-04:00

.........I want us to perfectly fit together, like apples and cinnamon

...................<........................................................(whoever you'll be..)

I've never seen such perfect beauty better portrayed.
It's like their tastes have melted into each other forever..
Open yourself to me (just like apples and cinnamon)

nuit d'automne

2009-10-13T04:48:00.003-04:00

…And I honestly believe in happiness

J’ai l’impression de toujours dire les mêmes mots, ayant toujours le même sens, toujours sur le même ton..
J’ai l’impression que chaque fois que ma vie avance vers quelque chose de nouveau, je regarde en arrière er j’arrête de marcher..
J’ai l’impression d’avoir perdu tout ce qui était bon en moi et d’avoir gardé tout ce que j’aurais voulu changer..

Mais j’y crois encore, je le sens, je sais que le jour où je prendrai une décision, ce sera la bonne. C’est la frustration de n’avoir aucun contrôle sur ma vie, de ne pas savoir quoi faire, quoi choisir, quoi sacrifier qui m’empêche de dormir. Si seulement c’était aussi simple de prendre une partie de mon cœur et de le briser en petites miettes, si c’était si facile de renoncer au passé, à mes rêves, à l’orgueil de n’avoir jamais penché la tête et m’avouer vaincue… je croirais au bonheur. Mais j’y crois quand même, je sais qu’il est là, je sais qu’un jour je pourrai dire que nous deux, c’est pour la vie, qui que tu sois…mais j’espère secrètement que c’est toi.

Je n’ai jamais été aussi confuse de toute ma vie, cependant c’est la première fois que je vois le monde avec les yeux grand ouverts, que je l’aime, que je trouve que le ciel est joli, que les feuilles ont des belles couleurs, que l’automne est doux et paisible…

Je sais ce que je ressens et c’est assez pour l’instant. J’ai besoin de plus d’espace, de plus de blanc.

‘I know, the past will catch you up as you run faster
I know, the last in line is always called a bastard’

4 minutes

2009-10-10T05:20:00.002-04:00

Well, it’s been a while now and things have changed, I have changed; summer’s gone, the sky turns gray more often, college sucks just as bad as last year. We had 23 days of rain in July, I can’t stand hockey, I don’t get Physics. It’s 5:12 a.m.
So what after the shitty talk? I hate introductions…
I should talk about the song. The one that’s playing quietly in my headphones, the one I keep on listening over and over. Quiet? Not at all…
Music could make everyone pretty. Art could make everyone pretty. Through my art, I can finally be daddy’s little girl. He’d stay on that black sofa, after a 2000 km ride, watching me draw twisted lines and shapes with my Indian ink bottles, telling me they’re pretty. Pretty…
The song starts off with violent riffs and violent screams, but I can’t find any kind of revolt in my once incensed and outraged soul. I’d just spend days, months, centuries listening to every single note while drawing with my awkward quill pen. I’d wash my insecurities away. I wouldn’t mind forgetting those things I want to remember forever. I wouldn’t mind losing control, because the tornado I’d create would be just a bunch of ink splatters on a blank paper. But it’s 5:16 a.m. now and I only have myself and my music.
And I wish it wasn’t just us.

Hey, do you remember..?

Happy birthday!

2009-07-03T11:24:00.004-04:00

This is for a special friend..
And not only because it's his birthday, because he has just turned 19 and because I know the most beautiful years of his life are yet to come, but I wanted to wish him that kind of happiness that blows you away and makes you reach heaven, that kind of amazing joy you feel only when your biggest dreams come true, that kind of beauty you can see only in your lover’s smile..

You know I suck at choosing my words and expressing feelings, but when we met, at the very end of last year’s winter, I couldn’t have imagined the way you’d change lives all around you, the way you’d make people feel, the way you’d stand for your friends, the way you’d show them they’re special. We've been through so much since that early morning, that I feel like i've known you forever. This is more than a thank you word, it’s a promise. A promise I’ll be here for you, forever and always, while we grow up and get old.

Happy birthday!
And a really, amazingly happy year <3

4 ani <3

2009-07-01T10:49:00.005-04:00

4 ani...
Am scris despre ea. Sunt 4 ani din seara in care am cunoscut-o. 4 ani din momentul acela despre care nu stiam ca avea sa-mi schimbe viata. Au trecut 4 ani, ani in care te-ai schimbat atat de mult, dar pentru mine ai ramas la fel. Aceeasi Gab. As vrea sa pot scrie despre noi, dar tu stii ce vreau sa iti spun si imi e de ajuns. Si te iubesc. As vrea sa am cuvinte, metafore, sa iti mai pot trimite versuri, dar au trecut 4 ani si ma cunosti prea bine. Fara a spune nimic, tu stii totul despre mine.
La multi ani noua! >:D<
We truly are gettin' older xD
together.

Writer's block. If only I had been a writer...

2009-06-25T00:51:00.003-04:00

Nu mai pot scrie.
…
Nimic.
Randuri albe.
Luni intregi.
Mai bine de un an.
…
Martie 2008. Poate ca atunci am scris cu adevarat pentru ultima oara. Noapte tarzie, fara sunete, fara vise. Parfum excesiv de tigara, nori de fum pustii si solitari. Cafeaua mea, propria ei mireasma obosita de vanilie. Lupte interioare, ambivalenta, nehotarare, nimicuri. De ce am scris?
In noaptea aceea, s-a terminat.
S-a terminat si ultima tigara. Kent 8, Dunhill Black, alte nimicuri. Imaginea lor mi-e mult prea clara in minte. Si parfumul...da, parfumul impregnat in haine, in birou si in noptiera, in cartile vechi care ar fi putut avea acea aroma placuta, usor dulceaga…
In noaptea aceea, s-a terminat.
S-a terminat absenta sentimentelor si am inceput eu. Incapabila sa scriu. Simtind, in sfarsit! Nefumatoare. Complet neinteresanta. Eu.
A trecut mai bine de un an si nu mai pot scrie. Nu in acelasi fel. Un an si mi-a fost dor de ele. Cafeaua e inca acolo, gustul insa s-a schimbat. Prea mult zahar?! In locul scrierilor anoste,vorbesc despre vise. Dar eu ce visez? Imaginile ma fac sa tresar, as vrea sa le uit, as vrea ca noptile sa nu mi se graveze in memorie, as vrea sa-mi pot manui cosmarurile asemenea unui mic teatru de papusi. Dar nu pot, asa ca as vrea doar sa scriu. Frazele sunt sacadate, adesea imbecile; imi lipsesc metaforele, gandurile si ideile, imi lipseste vointa de a spune ce simt; mi-e teama de sertarele profunde ale mintii mele…
Si visele? Si tot ce nu v-am spus? Si cosmarurile lipsite de sens, ilustrate sub forma de masacre, panica, intrebarile? Mi-ar fi teama sa fiu ascultata cu adevarat. Nu trebuie sa scriu.

Nu mai pot scrie. Dar poate pot spera, pot iubi, pot fi tot ceea ce nu am putut fi printre atatea randuri vechi.

About her

2009-06-21T11:39:00.000-04:00

I should have written about her a long time ago.
I met her in a late summer night, at the beginning of July. Back then, I was 14 and I was craving for my lost paradise. Living in a place I didn’t know, abandoned by the world – or so it seemed, she became my salvation, the shoulder I would have wanted to cry on. She was smart, tough and talented; she was special in every single way. She still is. Wishing with all her heart to escape from the place where I wanted to return to, her eyes were wide open; mine were closed to everything. Both of us had lived similar nightmares, we both wanted to change the world, to make our dreams come true, to fall in the deepest love, to be happy in our own way. On many levels, she was just like my reflection in the mirror, but so much better. She was there when my world crushed down. She was there for me when my days were dark and grey. She still is. We’re grownups now and some of our dreams came true; we have love and a sort of happiness we used to crave for. Maybe we won’t change the world, but we’ve changed each other. I know she changed me. I had to write a few lines about her, because she’s been here all this time; she’s been close to my heart. And because after a year of silence, she’s still there for me, she’s still one of my closest friends and I love her just as much as before and even more. Thanks for everything, sis’!

Folie

2009-06-12T11:30:00.004-04:00

...Et j'ai toujours cette peur de ne pas être à la hauteur.
Ce sont les fantômes du passé qui reviennent me hanter..
On a tant de projets et si peu de temps, pourtant il ne me reste qu’une envie, celle de le serrer dans mes bras.
Je voudrais tellement cacher mon visage, car je me sens anxieuse et fébrile et je veux que le monde cesse d’exister.
Il y a une tempête au fond de mon cœur et j’ai bien hâte de voir mon soleil. Je n’en peux plus d’attendre que les jours passent, j’ai l’impression que je suis en train de perdre de ces secondes que je pourrais passer collée à ses lèvres.
Oui, c’est le tourment au dedans de moi. Je suis follement amoureuse. Je veux changer le cours du temps et de l’histoire…
C’est bien de la folie, tout cela.

Those sharp daggers...

2009-06-10T03:11:00.002-04:00

1995 or so. She watches silently that kid with huge, round classes running into her arms and crying her little heart out.
There’s some tragedy in this childish scene, as humiliation starts taking hold of both of their bodies. For the desperate mom, it has become a sad routine: her child’s definitely a freak – she’s 4, she can do maths, but she’s totally unable to defend herself. It’s such a shame… She should have been a boy. Her little brat is waiting for a hug, but today she hasn’t done her job properly – she has come home covered with bruises once again. Knowing your child is being bullied on a daily basis is so embarrassing, since she’s the tallest one in her class – and the strangest, if you ask her. Awkward, upsetting, degrading, mortifying… She, who fights like a lioness for her pride, has got a dumb child, a useless kid with no pride and no strength. She has nothing but a pair of pretty eyes, already attacked by myopia and quite a huge list of other problems. Weird, she’d say.

2004. Those big, round glasses are long gone, the eyes have lost some of their colour and her little brat has become obnoxiously tall. And a bit too clubby, if you consider how she’d been qualified as anorexic in the not-so-early past. Mom glares at the kid – did she grow taller since she’d seen her last time? It’s only been a week or so… Today, she must face that problem: it’s not about the kid’s lamentable looks anymore, since being pretty has never been her strong suit. She was smart though and mom has put all her pride in glorifying the kid’s so-called intelligence. What if this year, she won’t be the very best one in her class? What will the neighbours, her family, the other parents think? Mom would almost bite her nails; her whole universe would be shattered, she’d have to endure pain, soreness and shame. Such a reckless child, writing poetry while the whole world is breaking down! She’ll have to lecture her..

The kid must be 14 and a half and she’s plain freaky. Mom looks horrified at the collection of hideous, black clothes her brat has been wearing that past year. Filled with morbid ideas and complicated philosophies about everything, listening to that shocking, gruesome music, terribly antisocial and so different from the others - her kid has become a weirdo. What a dreadful shame, seeing her daughter wear those dark, large t-shirts that make her look like an ugly freak. She, her daughter, her only daughter, is fighting with the all-mighty normality; she wants to become one of those scary bastards mom has always tried to avoid. Yeah, what a shame!... Mom decides to stop taking her daughter out, since she’d scare half of her family and friends only with her looks. It’s better for everyone, since the girl’s spending most of her time day-dreaming. Did she fall for an idiot? Is this why she seems so odious and hateful towards anyone else? Mom’s embarrassed once again…

Her daughter turned 18 and she’s grown to disgust her. She’s weird, irresponsible and she’s got such horrible tastes in everything. Her looks are alarming, her clothes make mom sick, her ideas make mom want to take a knife and cut off her tongue. Obnoxious, that is. Abhorrent kid. Repulsive .Disturbing. Revolting.
There’s this sour effect after a sharp sound, when you realize your skin has become much too red and every pore seems to let loose some of that colossal pain. You stare at her small and apparently fragile shape, while she keeps on screaming and shouting, calling you an idiot, calling you a devil, a pain in the ass, a stupid, weird, shameful being. You look daggers at her, while she tries to make yet another decision for you, while she does things her own way. She knows it all, she who has worked so hard in order to attain glory and perfection. She doesn’t want you to take her down, you filthy brat. She’d slap you till you bleed, she’s kill you in despair. And then, you turn your back and you realize this is nothing but a sad routine. Shameful, isn’t it?...

You destroyed my life, bitch.

Heaven and storms

2009-06-07T02:07:00.001-04:00

Madness. Pure madness, this is what she feels when she lies in the dark, wet grass, in the middle of the night, sobbing at the terrifying scripts her sick mind is creating. Pure madness, when tears start falling on that drawing of a Lucy screaming in despair she’s made. As she desperately wishes she was that Lucy, so she could cry her heart out right there, in the darkness, everyone’s sleeping silently.
Horrifying mental images of what could happen. Painful memories of past mistakes. She’d love if he pulled that trigger. Blurry pictures of those blue, round shapes erasing memories. Devilish, imaginary sounds of the last few words. Sharp words. Someone, pull the trigger already! Mistakes and regrets, silent screams, 1:00 am, psychosis. This is it; please, stick with her in psychosis. She’d kill for him to be happy; she’d pull that trigger.
Pure madness, ‘cuz her heart can’t stop running 1000 miles per hour, getting ready to explode. There’s no coherence in my words, in her imagination, in the frightening screenplays her thick mind doesn’t stop making. What if…? As loneliness chases her rage away, she wishes to turn back time to the moment when her dreams were all bright. She wishes he was there, so she could say how sorry she is. Why don’t you pull the trigger?
Her heart chopped by thousands of invisible knives and razorblades, sick images of this bloody end start dancing euphorically on her retina. This is how she is, living through her mad obsessions. She’d want to save her eyes for him, those eyes he cherishes so much. She’d want to be his and only his forever. But wait, forever lasts so much longer; don’t pull the trigger just yet… She needs to say how much she loves him, how sorry she is. Don’t pull the trigger until next morning, don’t let this heart sink deeper in despair.
Love comes together with pain. Sometimes, paradise is filled with storms – such a paradoxical package deal. Every now and then, there are dark, thick clouds in her heaven. But he’s always waiting there, in the shadows – her rapture, her ecstasy, her bliss, her thrill, the paradise. She’s in love.
Don't let go..

The way I miss you

2009-06-04T01:57:00.004-04:00

She’d want to tell him…
It’s almost midnight and her heart starts beating following the rhythm of his song.
She’d want to tell him all the boring, unimportant things that happened lately. She’d want him to know how every second seems so dull when he’s not around. She’d want to hear him talking about his day… She’d want…
Soon enough, they’ll have this talk while drinking their coffees; morning will be gone by then. He’ll be smiling gently and tease her about the dark rings around her eyes, she’ll tell him some of her childish jokes and beg for more coffee…
Or maybe not. She’ll jump straight into his arms and hug him tightly, then she’ll refuse to let him go. She’ll kiss him passionately, one of those forever lasting kisses. She’ll caress his whole body, while giggling happily at the not-so-deep red bite marks on his beautiful lips and neck. He’ll tease her about them as well. His whispers into her ear will make her blush badly and close her eyes Oh, she blushes so easily… She’ll listen to his heartbeat and shiver at his every touch. She’ll tell him she adores him.
2:00 am. Time doesn’t flow as fast as she’d wish to. She’d want to tell him all the boring, unimportant things that happened lately. She’d want him to know how every second seems so dull when he’s not around. She’d want to hear him talking about his day… She’d want…
Did she ever have the chance to tell him how happy he’s made her? How much her life has changed? How paradise seemed such an easy thing to reach when she was thinking about him?
But then…she’s in love with him and the rest of the things are just secondary thoughts.

6 am. Dull blabbers about being 18. Words about my special someone <3

2009-06-02T05:55:00.002-04:00

18 candles.
Childish smile, childish voice, childish enthusiasm. Everlasting child. Nonetheless, in everyone’s vision, I’ve finally become an adult. I may be wrong, but I’ve seen myself as an adult ever since I was 14; ever since I had to be completely on my own.
Things that changed in my life: I can buy alcohol, but I quit drinking; I can get a smoke, but it’s a habit I don’t enjoy anymore; I can win the lottery [yeah, I had to be 18 in order to buy a ticket], but I stopped relying on my luck long ago; I can go to jail, but my crimes have nothing to do with law. My life is what it used to be.

No, I did change. It has nothing to do with age, but with consciousness, values, feelings and acceptance. It has nothing to do with being an adult, but with being myself. On many levels, this last year might as well have been the most intense year of my life. I loved, abhorred, felt happy, felt jealous, was absurd. I made and forgave mistakes, I went through my first year of college, I tried to start over. I did a lot of little things and I made a few big choices. I’ve been somehow proud of myself and I’ve been regretting a mistake more than ever.

The main thing is, this is the beginning of my life and I’ve already chosen my path. I know what to do; I know who I want to be and, more importantly, who I want to be with. I know whose hand I wanna hold and I know I want it to be the same one I’ll cherish, rugged and old, when we turn 60. I know.

Insecure about my ability to build up relationships with others. Overproud. Arrogant. He loves me even this way; he loves me without a mask. The lightning sparks in his eyes, those deep beautiful eyes that I adore, don’t seem to see the dark sides of me. Picturing his amazingly stunning gaze in my head, I couldn’t be mean, selfish or jealous; I can’t help but think I’m a grown-up, I’m someone better, I’m warmer inside…
That sweet echo in a corner of my mind – his voice the first time I heard it, his unforgettable voice that time when we burst into laugh, that time when I felt as shy and happy as a child – it still lingers in my head, making me feel alive in every possible way.

So what if I completely lack cohesion? So what if my ideas are strewn and incomplete? It’s about him I want to write. It’s in his arms that I want to live my earthly paradise; it’s the warmth of his arms that I want to feel in the cold winder nights; it’s in the deepest beauty of his eyes that I want to drown myself until I reach infinity. It’s him, forever.

And if it doesn’t sound like me, read this while listening to your favourite song. Read this part while thinking about your special someone. Read it while remembering how much you love them. I’ve never stopped writing to you. I’ll never stop writing to you.

Someday, you’ll change the world with your own hands. And I’ll be there to hold them.

Je veux danser avec l'éclat de ses yeux

2009-05-30T03:04:00.004-04:00

He was like that kind of summer rain. Sudden. Unexpected. Coming out of the blue. Like a summer rain, he showed up washing away my bitterness and sorrow. Like a summer rain, he made me keep my eyes wide open at the greatness of this world. Ever since the beginning, he's coloured my world in beautiful shades of violet and green.
Only, it wasn’t really summer when we first met. It wasn’t even raining that night. And to be honest, I didn’t have a clue about the gaze in his eyes; I couldn’t have told if he was amused or if he’d found me a bit bizarre; I couldn’t have known that in my hell, he’d be so much more than a fleeting dream - that he’d turn my life into plain heaven.
I don’t write about him because I’m afraid I’ll forget any of these things. I write because I feel like I’ve loved him forever and I’ll love him so much longer. I won’t even describe him – he’s not a bunch of words. He’s more than a cold breeze in the middle of the desert or a ray of sun in the infinite darkness. He’s mine. My infinity, my paradise. And I am his…

And I am insanely in love

Leapsa II

2009-05-28T17:16:00.001-04:00

De data asta am primit leapsa de la Mirry [or so she told me:">] So, there's my top 10 'after breakin' up songs', but in alphabetical order, 'cuz it was hard to chose a number 1 xD

After Midnight Project – Take me home

Apocalyptica – I don’t care

Disturbed – Remember

HIM – Killing loneliness

Mayday Parade – Three cheers for five years

Nightwish – Dead boy's poem [not the break up type, it just makes me feel this way xD]

Placebo – Follow the cops back home [I know it’s not a love song, but it has a special meaning for me]

Slipknot – Snuff

Sonata Arctica – Tallulah [the song is pretty crappy, but I used to listen to it a lot after a certain break-up, long ago]

Stone Sour – Suffer

Leapsa [updated]

2009-05-23T20:24:00.006-04:00

Am primit leapsa de la Ralphie :">
3 cuvinte despre mine:

Mirry: genialistico-kinky-hamster [asta e 1 unul da? ] , clumsy, best friend

Ralphie: frumoasa, marcanta, божественный

Rux: kindhearted, special, free spirited

Maria: a blue-eyed universe, close to the heart, happy

Marian: smart, cute, insane

Matt: smart, kind, perfectionist

Ancutz: perv, perv, perv

Sammy: funny, crazy, weird

Gabriel: damn music freak [it makes 3]

Vlad: albastru, frumos, superb

Andy: kinky, pretty eyes, quirky

Dana: crazy, funny, happy

Mimi & Alex: unpredictable, dirty mind, talented

Seb: boyish, talkative, good-in-french (>:P)

Leapsa merge mai departe la Maria <3

Greedy

2009-05-21T20:19:00.006-04:00

They say one hour of love is worth an age of dully living on.

Am I being greedy if I want my hour to last a bit more?

Time must stop in his arms.

Every movement must cease all around us.

The whole earth must fall asleep the time of a kiss. A lifetime.

They must let us live our love.

I must kiss him. Again. And again. And forever.

I must cherish his lips.

I must feel the softness of his skin.

I must drown myself into his eyes.

The sun must stop rising.

Rain must stop falling.

I must feel the taste of his neck.

I must feel the warmth of his body.

I must whisper in his ear all the things I want him to know.

I must wake up beside him in the morning.

He must be the first thing I see and I embrace when I open my eyes.

I am greedy.

Even if time doesn't stop, even if people keep on walkin and living, even if night keeps turning to day, i'll still love him.

It will be my mad love, above everything else.

I'm in love.

It's really late in the night and i totally lack inspiration

2009-05-18T01:17:00.001-04:00

Je l'aime.
Et c'est tout.
<3

Things that make me happy <3

2009-05-13T22:38:00.000-04:00

1. Ei. Pentru ca desi nu mai sunt aici atat de des, desi imi lipsesc si avem momente de tacere, raman prietenii mei cei mai buni. Pentru ceea ce sunt ei, pentru ceea ce ma fac sa devin si pentru ca imi amintesc ca visele exista. Ii iubesc <3
2. El. Pentru ca ma suporta atunci cand sunt insuportabila, pentru ca ma iubeste si atunci cand tac, pentru ca imi zambeste cand sunt trista, pentru toate lucrurile mici si pentru ca m-a invatat sa-l iubesc <3
3. Aspiratiile mele. Pentru ca am obiective si ambitii.
4. Cartile. Scriu, citesc, ma exprim, am o opinie. And what d'you want, after all? I'm a bookworm...
5. Muzica. E o dependenta care dateaza de ani si ani...
6. Amintirile pe care le-am construit impreuna.
7. Soarele. Ma face sa zambesc
8. Tofu :">. E un rozator mic, pufos si adorabil, care ma detesta profund. Si totusi...<3
9. Serile de vara. Atunci scriu, visez si astept.
10. HA1065. O sala in care-mi petrec timpul cu persoane dragi.
11. O cutie de Killtox expirata. Da, o pastrez si acum :"> Ele stiu de ce <3
12. Scrisorile lor.
13. Oamenii. Pentru ca ador sa ii observ, sa ii citesc, sa ii inteleg sau nu, sa ii critic sau nu, sa ii descopar, sa fiu fascinata, sa invat de la ei.
14. Ploile de vara
15. Filmele bune
16. Vacanta
17. Lucrurile vechi si prafuite
18. Fotografiile noastre
19. Rasaritul de soare
20. Marea
21. Arta
22. Sperantele
23. Orhideele
24. Colectia de CD-uri
25. O imbratisare
26. Faptul ca am viata inainte
27. Faptul ca pot schimba viata cuiva
28. Chitara
29. Cafeaua
30. Dormitul in iarba
31. Gastile vechi
32. Umorul lor negru xD
33. Frunzele de toamna
34. Aerul de dupa ploaie
35. Ciocolata It's my favourite drug <3
36. Ciresele
37. Lichiorul de ciocolata
38. Sa rad cu lacrimi
39. Momentele umilitoare pe care ni le amintim cu atata placere xD
40. Formele, liniile si culorile
41. Lucrurile iesite din comun
42. Dorinta de a fi altfel
43. Intrebarile
44. Diversitatea
45. Vacanta
46. Povestile noastre si ale lor...
47. Serile petrecute cu ei
48. Aerul proaspat
49. Zambetul bebelusilor :">
50. Romanul pe care il scriu
51. Desi lista nu e mereu in ordine, nu am gasit un loc destul de special pentru ei. Sunt bunicii mei, cei care m-au crescut si mi-au dat valorile cele mai bune, cei care mi-au spus povesti, m-au invatat multe din lucrurile pe care le stiu si sa visez, sa continuu, care mi-au aratat ca lumea e imensa, dar exista un loc si pentru mine.

Sunt atatea lucruri speciale in viata mea, atat de multe lucruri care ma fac sa ma simt bine, incat vreau si trebuie sa fiu fericita. Am peste 50 de motive sa fiu optimista, poate sunt chiar sute. In seara asta voi adormi zambind. <3

Lil' thing is goin' older <3

2009-04-06T16:56:00.000-04:00

E mica, adorabila si o iubim.
Ne face sa zambim atunci cand suntem tristi, rade alaturi de noi cand suntem fericiti, ia lumea intreaga pe umerii ei pentru ca noi sa ne simtim liberi. Ofera iubire chiar si cand noi suntem goi si indiferenti, e acolo, alaturi de noi, in toate lucrurile mici.

La multi ani, breloc !
Te iubesc <3
si nimic nu ar fi la fel fara tine <3
>:D<>:D<>:D<>:D<>:D<>:D<

Le Rouge et le Noir

2009-03-28T01:37:00.000-04:00

Aujourd’hui, on m’a fait écouter une chanson de la fin des années `50. Je me suis demandé si l’amour était pareil il y a cinquante ans, s’il était tout aussi amphigourique, s’il faisait souffrir tout autant, si quelqu’un, il y a cinquante ans, avait vécu l’amour éternel; si une personne avait passé sa vie entière à regarder le visage de son bien-aimé; si elle s’était réveillée dans ses bras chaque matin; si elle s’était endormie enrobée par la chaleur de son corps; si elle avait vécu son infime parcelle d’éternité à côté de lui… Et puis, si ce genre d’amour est réservé aux tragédies classiques et qu’en dehors de la plume et de l’encre, ces hommes font des erreurs, ces femmes sont malheureuses et incertaines? Je voudrais tout de même le savoir. Je voudrais faire le ménage dans ma vie. Je voudrais l’avoir dans mes bras…
J’ai vu dans les yeux de ce chanteur mort il y a fort longtemps une lueur ardente, comme si le théâtre de sa vie allait se jouer dans ces trois minutes devant la caméra.
‘Ne me quitte pas, je t’inventerai des mots insensés que tu comprendras.’ Je veux que tu lises dans mes pensées et que tu y retrouves ton parfum, que t’entendes le souvenir de ta voix, que tu saches que je t’aime même si je ne le dis pas.
‘Ne me quitte pas, je ne vais plus pleurer, je ne vais plus parler, je me cacherai là à te regarder.’ Utopie. Je pourrais passer des années celée dans la profondeur de ton regard, mais alors…je voudrais que tu me voies aussi, je voudrais que tu lises le bonheur sur mon visage. Je t’en dois déjà beaucoup, tu sais…
‘Laisse-moi devenir l’ombre de ton ombre, l’ombre de ta main.’ Je serai là quand tes mains se dirigeront, fatiguées, vers ton front. Je serai là quand les années passeront sans qu’on les voie et quand le monde autour de nous éclatera. Je serai toujours là…Et si tu t’en vas, laisse-moi juste assez d’amour pour remplir le vide dans mon cœur.
J’ai passé des années à chercher le bonheur et j’ai trouvé, à la place, cette douleur constante, supportable, qui se colle parfaitement à mon corps et à mon âme, qui sait comment me faire du mal, qui me rend dépendante et vulnérable. Je la garderai dans mes bras jusqu’à ce que tu sois là.
J’aimerais te dire tout cela, mais je n’aurai peut-être jamais le courage.

Bineinteles, postarea nu ar trebui sa fie in franceza.

A night to remember

2009-03-20T12:31:00.000-04:00

3 am. Bottles of rum, tequila and a few guitars. Innocence felt like an easy thing to reach, even though we were half drunk and shameless and stupid… Life seemed to sound just like that pretty song I played on his acoustic guitar: a sweet, easy melody.

Our story began with innocence. Innocence ripped away, innocence turned to fear and sorrow and hatred. Innocence forgotten in a filthy bottle of alcohol.
Love was just an odd concept we’ve never dared to learn. Love was that freaky thing we replaced by passion and lust. Love was nothing at all…

Yesterday night, I felt like a teen again. We were a bunch of idiots singing, dancing, drinking and playing guitar. We were 18, we were young, free, accomplished in our art, we were…

I don’t know where I am anymore.

Thanks, guys. It’s been nice to meet again! >:D<

Sham and a Lie

2009-03-05T22:23:00.000-05:00

Mon cœur est brisé telle une pensée tragique d’un poème baudelairien.

Nous sommes allés au devant des instants et des sensations, nous avons protégé l’essence et la saveur perdues de l’amour pur, enfantin, mouvementé dans ses passions, innocent dans ses tumultes. Nous avons dansé comme des séraphins sur les liens du désir et de la mort, de la beauté et de la terreur, de la sensualité et de l’infini. Nous avons créé un art total, une nouvelle musique sur laquelle les lueurs dans tes yeux valsaient inlassablement…

Et si je n’ai jamais vu la profondeur de tes yeux? Et si je n’ai jamais goûté au paradoxe de tes lèvres? Et si je n’ai jamais connu l’émerveillement et la catastrophe, la montée au ciel et la descente en enfer, le divin et le diabolique, pourquoi je pleure et tu me manques tant et il n’y a rien autour de moi?
Mon âme meurtrière chante des comptines puériles dans sa détestable prison humaine. Il y a des pas affligés et solitaires sous la pluie et je me surprends en train de marcher. Je ne suis plus moi-même, ni quelqu’un d’autre; je n’ai plus de rêve, je ne suis plus rien.

Et je t’aime...
Je t’aime…
Je t’aime…
Je t’aime…
Il pleut et la pluie fait de moi un être triste, et je t’aime encore…
Toujours.

Nothing ever changes in my life, but i suddenly feel broken.

Cifre

2009-02-04T16:55:00.001-05:00

In momentul in care am fost -iar- lovita de constiinta sociala, populatia lumii atingea nu mai putin 6,745,135,535 de indivizi. Persoane ca noi, persoane fericite, bolnave, infometate, obeze, ciudate, galagioase, [in]constiente, pierdute, zambitoare, singure...fiinte mai mult sau mai putin umane, in functie de valori, principii si o multime de criterii penibile alese de noi.

In acelasi moment, peste 1 miliard dintre ele se puteau ''mandri'' cu o cantitate excesiva de colesterol, kilograme si alte cadouri facute de companii mult prea darnice, ca McDonalds, Burger King, KFC, Coca Cola si altele. Alte 900 de milioane, in schimb, figurau pe lista mult mai trista a persoanelor subnutrite, dintre care mai bine de 20 000 si-au pierdut viata doar astazi.

Cifre. Cifre care te fac sa te simti anormal de mic si lipsit de importanta, o statistica neinsemnata intr-o baza de date. O persoana fara identitate, fara continut, fara cele 15 minute de glorie [personala?], poate fara un viitor sigur. O persoana comuna [aviz amatorilor de ''sunt unicat(a)'' etc] cu o situatie probabil indiferenta pentru sefi, profesori, guvern si alte institutii de fatada/corupte. O piesa de sah intr-o lume cu prea multi pioni insetati de aforisme, o lume mizera, regizata de banci si carti de credit. Anul acesta, 102,029 persoane au hotarat sa-si ia viata. 102,029 indivizi au decis ca lumea aceasta nu mai are nimic de oferit. Sa va reamintesc ca anul a inceput acum o luna? Cati vor fi peste 2, 3, 6 luni cei care nu vor gasi un scop in ziua de maine?

Inainte sa postez aceasta aberatie colosala, un anumit numar de bloguri s-a imbogatit cu 637,006 de postari doar in ultimele ore. Presupun ca e in natura umana sa scriem in loc sa actionam. Ne plangem de foamete, incalzirea planetei, sanatate, bani, inflatie, prieteni, relatii amoroase, scoala, serviciu, sex, familie, mancarea gatita de bunici [?]. De ce?! Poate pentru ca nu traim in Zimbabwe, unde o persoana din cinci e afectata de SIDA. Pentru ca nu stim ca intr-o singura luna, 4,000,000 de mame au hotarat sa ucida ceea ce urma sa fie propriul lor copil, in vreme ce alte 60,000 urmau sa moara dand nastere unui prunc. Pentru ca suntem ignoranti, egocentrici si singuri, pentru ca ne lasam manipulati de presa, opinia publica si alte nimicuri, pentru ca suntem prea lenesi sa facem ceva. Astazi s-au vandut peste 2,500,000 de celulare si 430,000 de TV-uri, pentru ca ne dorim tot ce e nou, scump si da un oarecare sens unei vieti placide. La nivel global, guvernele au hotarat sa investeasca peste 650 de miliarde de dolari in domeniul sanatatii doar astazi, in vreme ce sute de mii de alte persoane au murit din cauza cancerului, malariei sau al masochismului [da, vorbesc de tutun si alcool]. 38 de miliarde de dolari au fost cheltuiti in ultima luna pe droguri ilegale, pentru ca avem nevoie de ceva care sa indeparteze temporar mizeria realitatii. Traim. Traim intr-o lume bolnava. Intr-o lume in care totul trebuie sa fie tangibil, iar sentimentele au nevoie de o multime de gadget-uri si nimicuri pentru a fi exprimate.
Alte 1,700 de persoane au murit de foame undeva de cand am inceput sa scriu acest post.

In momentul de fata, populatia lumii atinge 6,745,140,696 de indivizi. Persoane ca noi, persoane fericite, bolnave, infometate, obeze, ciudate, galagioase, [in]constiente, pierdute, zambitoare, singure...

Cifre?

The Art of Lust

2009-01-16T16:56:00.000-05:00

The two of them were dancing silently on her much too wide bed, their bodies linked like perfect pieces of a timeless puzzle. Their eyes were now two different shades of piercing blue, gone through a sea of delicious desire and decadence. All rebelliousness had already slipped away from every pore of their skin, letting the two bodies move graciously together through fire and lust to their own heaven. Her hands, trembling with anticipation, were running frenzy through his light auburn hair. In that very moment, she felt mentally ravaged, but impossibly happy nonetheless. His fingers and his whispers had caressed every little piece of her skin when the warm dawn light entered the room. It was like she had never had the time to touch his flawless back, to kiss his perfect neck line that way. In the crimson light, his full lips looked more beautiful than ever before, as they were fondling her face, her neck, her body, her entire existence… The silence had only been broken by their deep breath and then, there he was, whispering “I adore you” in her ear. And he did love her, insanely, oddly maybe, like no one else had ever loved her before..

Heartbeats. Desire. Lust. Everything and nothing at all were now melting into each other.
[…]
She had gone through heaven, a glimpse of hell and then heaven again, and now she was resting in his arms, under his gentle gaze. The two of them were perfectly motionless statues half-hidden under the blank sheets, right beside a blood stain that seemed utterly odd in that soft-coloured picture. A pale murmur was filling up for the long silence now and then, but they knew they needed no words at all. A latent heat was compensating for their nudity, but they couldn’t have cared less. Those last few hours felt like an eternity and something, and now nothing, nothing except for his handsome naked body and his sweet scent filled the room for her. Not the rushing cars, not the noisy old train running through the city, not the two beautiful fair-haired children singing outside. Not the cold white snow covering her street or the dim light of the early winter sunset. Nothing at all…
And then, it hit her. As all her faith in beauty, art, feelings and freedom started regaining her body, she knew it. All the pieces of the puzzle made sense while her body collapsed on top of him for one more time. This was it: she loved him back…