daddy issues

all

all you will ever owe is to yourself.

not to them.

all you will ever need

is to love yourself,

before them.

theme song

tickets

but have you ever met someone and said to yourself - 'yes, finally, someone as crazy as i am!'?

i keep going through people like i am going through books. in the beginning, i love exploring them, i look up new words in the dictionary and i try to understand what i'm reading. after a while i may get a little bit bored, but it is so nice to have something to look forward to every night before going to sleep or every time i hop on a bus, that i just almost always end up carrying on. then, when the end approaches, i start missing them before i really need to. and when i finish reading them, i have other piles waiting to be read.

ah, but people aren't like books. they do not sit on shelves, that's for sure. and they sure as hell do not ever stay the same. change. they change. and so do i.

4400

i come in layers, like one of those fancy raw vegan cakes. except, i'm not fancy at all. i am just layered. and it takes time getting everybody to get a taste of me. mainly, because only one taste is not enough, you need to try at least three or even four times to get a clue. plus, i usually keep my layers in the freezer over night, so that complicates it all.

cotton wool hearts

i have been travelling with my suitcase open for a while now. and it is not that i lost the key to the lock - i have no lock at all. it is not even that the suitcase needed to be aired. not even that i stopped caring about people seeing what's inside. it is just that the only places i get to go to anymore are so close to each other. and i have way too much stuff to unpack and pack again too often.

i think maybe my suitcase is too small for what i have got. i need to go and shop for a new one. or get rid of the stuff - some of it at least. or continue travelling like this. who cares, really?



i feel your breath searching through us when you're least breathing. i feel your thoughts running through our heads when you're least thinking. and i feel your desires rising between us when you're least desiring. and all of this because i've got an open suitcase. tell me then, would you like me to close it? because i wouldn't.

but if you still would like me to close it, i'll have nothing left to do but to clean up my skull and fill it up with cotton wool hearts. the one in my chest won't certainly do anymore. i'll even talk to my other personalities and tell them to do the same. you'll get a cotton wool hearted army. just for you. and your breaths. and your thoughts. but not your desires. those will stay hidden in the suitcase.

above all, make sure you really want what you think you want.

noah's ark never existed. now get over it.

i hope i someday get to meet myself.

rotocală

ciocolată-mă, te rog. pe buze și pe obraji. dar să fie amară.
și dulceață-mă. pe gât și pe umeri.
și mai lămâie-mă. pe brațe și pe degete.
apoi iarbă-mă. pe sâni și pe coapse.
și curcubeu-mă. pe tălpi și prin vise.

lemon water

aseară am visat că m-ai sărutat pe fugă, după care mi-ai furat sânul stâng. iar în locul lui îmi vedeam inima cum bate. ai acoperit golul cu mâna ta dreaptă și ai început să-mi mângâi inima.

fireflies and dragonflies

- just admit it. you didn't want to stay.
- i guess i did. but i also wanted to leave so that i have a reason to come back.
- are you sure?
- no. but then again. no one ever is.
- about anything ..
- yes.

...

- and now what?
- now we lay on the ground and watch the world move.
- fireflies
- and dragonflies.
- no empty skies.
- not anymore, no.

...

- my hands were always cold when you were gone. it is so strange how they're not anymore. it is as if they also knew you were gone.
- sometimes hands know more than people ever come to know.

turcoaz

să ne urcăm unul în inima celuilalt.  sau să le legăm cu un hamac, inimile. și să ne legănăm în el de câte ori avem chef. așa, chiar de am pleca din inimile noastre, am fi legați de ele mereu.

- vreau să te sărut, dar nu mai am aer.
- nu-i nimic, am eu pentru amândoi.

în decembrie ochii, în iunie inimile. le-am deschis.

- vreau să te fumez, dar nu mai am foc.
- mănâncă-mă, atunci.
- în hamac.
- cu podul palmei lipit de inima mea.
- și cu tălpile de a mea.

iarbă de ieri și flori de azi. doar noi de mâine.

carrot sight

i sometimes pour carrot juice in my head - usually in the morning. they say carrots are good for your eyes. so it must help mine see better. even if seeing something takes sometimes several years.

i now see you clearly. and by you i mean me. it may seem complicated, but it isn't. 

it's like i'm a whole new person, but i am the same. and it's like you're a whole new person, but you're still the same. some people travel in order to achieve that. all i did was juice some carrots. 

and it is so warm in here, between us. it feels like summer in the winter. some kilometers here and there we still have to work on. but other than that, all is yellow. or orange. or white. or even purple. depending on the type of carrot we choose to juice in the morning.

under sky domes

icelit

remember the sound of my silence
despite all the noise in your head

walk me through your dreams
so that i dream, too

run me through your fears
so that you fear less

cut yourself from me
then reattach us back

will you please cry my eyes out?
and get rid of all the tears
i don't need them anymore
put them in a purple jar
close the lid and hide it
away
or don't

but please don't ever go to sleep
without me again.

nutmeg

options

so i think there's something wrong with my left brain. and with the right one, as well.
actually, there's some trouble with my heart, too, to be honest.

i guess i'll have to cut my body tonight, boil my brains and my heart. they say boiling takes away all the bad stuff.

and if that won't work, i may as well plant some myrt seeds in my head and my chest - wait for them to grow. but this would take too long.

ultimately, i might chop my brains and my heart. and make little ladybugs out of them, put these ladybugs back where my brains and my heart used to belong to - just to spice everything up. because replacing my brains with my heart did not work so far. and replacing my heart with my brains was another total disaster. so i am kind of running out of options here.

cut, sprout, and boil.

away above the chimney tops

- hop on, we'll sail.
- where to?
- wherever you want. you name it, we'll get there.
- but can we really get anywhere?
- just about, yes.
- what if i still don't know?
- well, we'll just have to figure it out.
- alright.

...

- what about that orange island? let's stop there first.
- sure, let's join the orange people.
- you know, i once used to be orange. i mean, i didn't live on the island, but i was orange.
- how come you were orange?
- well, one day, an orange guy took me by the hand and told me i could be orange. so i became orange.
- and then what happened?
- well, the guy figured he wasn't just orange. he figured he had other colors, too, underneath that orange shade.
- and so you just gave up on your orange shade, as well?
- well, i kind of had to. i mean, it made no sense to stay orange for someone who wouldn't want to be orange with me anymore.
- don't you think you could have stayed orange for both of you?
- no. because every time i would have tried to lend my orange tinge, i would have covered the other colors.
- but do you ever think you would have liked it to stay orange?
- probably. but green is so much better.
- and yet you want to get on the orange island.
- well, who doesn't?
- yeah, you're right.

...

- i guess you'll someday master being green and orange at the same time.
- i guess.

squash story

se întâmplă să mai mor din când în când. și să reînvii din nou. tot eu. dar nu eu deloc. cu fiecare moarte mă nasc și cu fiecare naștere mor.

am început să am o problemă cu oficiul stării civile. sau, mai bine zis, ei cu mine. de fiecare dată când merg să-mi declar moartea, mă ia câte un domn ușor de braț și mă poartă pe trepte afară spunându-mi să-mi văd de treabă. iar de fiecare dată când vreau să-mi înregistrez nașterea, se găsește câte o doamnă să sune la spitalul nouă și să-i cheme pe unii îmbrăcați în alb, să mă ia. dar nu înțeleg unde, nu înțeleg de ce.

tot ce vreau este să am undeva trecute datele morții și ale nașterii. să nu le uit. nu de alta, dar când oamenii mor, amintirile lor mor o dată cu ei. iar eu am ambiția să le păstrez. și ce ironie cruntă că nu pot.

ssargnomel

grabbed my head, and all my thoughts along with it. nothing to worry about.
grabbed my hands, and all my touch along with them. nothing to worry about.

grab my eyes, but not my dreams. everything to worry about.
grab my lips, but not my wants. everything to worry about.
grab my voice, but not my screams. every single thing to worry about.

yaha.

- sure. sure.
- where to?
- somewhere between the sun and the moon.
- we'll hold hands.
- eat purple-greenish figs.
- and sing.
- then sit on a comet.
- and kiss.
- while people wish on us.
- sure. sure.

o libertate. două libertăți.

dacă ar trebui să cred în dumnezeul tău, nu aș sta pe gânduri, aș începe de mâine. chiar și după câte luni au trecut deasupra capetelor noastre. chiar și după câte ploi ne-au spălat. aș crede în ce vrei tu să cred. pentru că deși aș renunța la libertatea mea, prin tine, aș primi-o înapoi.

pomandering

- so what do we do now?



- your call.

maybe tomorrow

too many words unspoken. and thoughts unthought. or hands unheld. and lips unkissed. to rewind the story back. stories never go back. they only go forward. and when they don't, well, they stop being stories and become history instead.

walls down.

if we didn't have walls, we would stop being humans and become hearts instead. with red blood and purple veins. and we'd love each other shamelessly, with no borders. and listen to each other's heart beats. and we would become fools once again.



oh, the fool-less walls we are. the wall-less fools we'd be.

mutluluk yok.

probabil că după o mie de gânduri distanță, o să încep să cânt. pentru tine. dar pentru că acum sunt atât de departe, am grijă să mențin balanța. dintre a fi fericită și dintre a fi nefericită. un echilibru ușor ironic. ușor neutru. și ușor incomod.

când eram la școală, am învățat că distanța se măsoară în kilometri. trebuia să colorăm niște hărți cu meridiane și paralele. dar ce păcat că nu a venit nimeni atunci la noi cu o hartă a adevăratelor distanțe. acelea pe care nu le poți măsura, dar pe care inevitabil le simți. și ce ironie - din nou - să realizez că școala este doar un pretext pentru cei mari să scape de cei mici. și să-i transforme în niște alți mai mari, ca ei, doar că mai mici. mai involuați și mai șterși. care nu pricep distanța și care se afundă în ea cu toate acestea.

da, nu sunt nefericită. dar nici fericită nu sunt. și ce mă fac eu cu mine între aceste două extreme? nu mai merge povestea cu unda sinus. și nici cea cu colivia. this is real life, baby. start practicing.