Au minuit

Chaque fois que je me crois perdue, mon ange prend soin de moi. Chaque fois que je m’éloigne de mes espoirs, la haute garde renvoie un oiseau sur mon épaule. Elle crie toujours: ”AIME,AIME,EEEM,L’AIAIME!”. Tous me rassurent. Rien n’est perdu. Moi même, je me ranvoie au passé et je me moque de ma propre personne. Que je suis malade! Comme j’aime la folie. Dramatiser, c’est mon style,c’est tout à fait vrai. Malheuresement, qui sait-peut-être pas, je me souviens trop souvent de ma tête. Le grand etêtement que je porte m’épaisse fortement. Je cherche une évasion, une toute petite porte. Mais, le bon ange garde mes deux cotés. T’est vraiment charmante, petite puce. Je t’aime trop,le trop raison que tu aies me force et me gratte et m’entoure et m’échauffe.

Ah, prison, ah béatitude. Comme je vous sente, comme je vous adore. Le goût sur mes leveres, le goût des toutes saveurs, des toutes souffrances. Je vois et j’adore. Je les laisse. Toutes. Toutes mes fautes qui cherchent pardon, tous mes petites préocupations. Comme je vous aime, chères.

Vous êtes ma vie. Vous êtes mes espoirs. Je tiendrai compte de vous, et vous seuls. Chez moi,c’est possible.Je le rendrai possible.

Having the mean reds

For those of you who are très unfortunate, and haven’t seen nor read "Breakfast at Tiffany’s", „Having the mean reds”, unlike the blues(when „you’re sad, that’s all”), is technically „being afraid, except you don’t know what you’re afraid of”. Actually the concept is about knowing exactly what you’re afraid of (so afraid, afraid even not to be going mad), but being too scared to admit it.

The mean reds have their way of appearing at turning points in your life. When you feel like you have to tip-toe your way through life, only because you feel as if you’re on a circus rope and beneath you your feelings are wrapped in glass. Hence, if you fall you will break and hurt both your inside (feelings, mind health, future etc.) and your outside (feeling gloomy shows, you, instead of having what Andy Warhol mentioned as “good days”, happen to have only horrible days).

Well, presumably having been there, I tend to wonder which your solution was. I mean, most people have a certain somebody (relative, friend, lover etc.) who, at the price of a simple phone call has you fine and dandy by the end of that minute. For those of you who can’t really explain the matters to others, what process do you use? Moi, par exemple, I tend to gently tap my left side part of the chest (the area right beneath your neck) using my right hand. Also, seeing a really good movie or reading a fairly good book I’ve already made an opinion about really decreases my tension. Still, my solutions are rather short-term. Dealing with your problems is the really heavy part.

Sometimes I wonder what other people would do. Salvador Dali was paranoid by nature. How on earth has he managed for that long? Jane Austen, oppositely, had a very relaxed way of writing, the only problems on her character’s minds were weather to marry or not, or how to succeed in seducing the person you’re already passionate about. I can’t help but wondering if she was really like that.

On the other hand, being on a turning point is all in all not that bad. It doesn’t really matter where you’re ending up as long as there still are positive things about it. And there always are. Except for being sent to jail or Canada (I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it). I’m serious, seeing the bright side is not at all overrated. In fact, only genuinely smart people manage to do that, donc, it’s in fact a proof of intelligence and understanding.

Alors, are we all set? Moral support is amongst the things that I do best , even with myself. Just keep on moving forward, always towards love, beauty, truth, passion, and (why not?) honest work.

CEFERE, iubirea vietii mele

Vi s-a intamplat vreodata sa aveti bilete la cuseta si sa sfarsiti prin a sta in vagon de personal? Ei bine, mie mi s-a intamplat.

Mi s-a intamplat sa coincida locul meu de la cuseta cu al altuia. Mi s-a intamplat sa fiu mutata la clasa a doua de domnu' nas. Mi s-a intamplat sa stau doua ore pe coridorul de la WC cu tot cu bagaje, pentru ca noul meu loc de la clasa a doua coincidea cu locul altuia. Mi s-a intamplat sa fiu data jos la COPSA MICA. La trei dimineata. Copsa mica e asa, un fel de metropola urbana iar oamenii de acolo sunt foarte prietenosi.Mi s-a intamplat sa mi se spuna sa urc in vagonul doispe al unui tren cu opt vagoane. Apoi am aflat ca aceasta COPSA MICA este un fel de punct de maxim interes, unde la tren se mai adauga cinci vagoane. Mi s-a intamplat sa ma sui in vagonul doispe si sa constat ca e vagon de personal. Mi s-a intamplat sa merg inca doispe ore astfel, si sa ajung in gara din Constanta la trei dupa-amiaza a doua zi.

Si nu mi s-a intamplat doar mie, ci si inca altor sapte persoane, cu care am impartit povestea asta (puteti sa va imaginati opt persoane plus bagajele celor opt persoane pe holul de la veceu?).
Si am dat si spaga doua sute de mii.

Nu stiu voua, dar mie-mi place cu trenul.