dear pieces of void,

You come to me and put yourself in the center of my attention. I wish you came to me and put myself in the center of your attention. But at least you come to me every now and again.

You say I am awesome and amazing. You say it's not me, it's you. No, it's not me, it's her.

I say you're gone and lost me. Maybe I just forgot how to make myself interesting enough for you to want to keep me.

You say you need to go there and make a life for yourself. My life misses you here.

You say I was unfair to you. I am not perfect. You are not perfect. I say I forget to be fair to me.

I would be me, except I forgot who you wanted that to be.

dear you,

You are loved. You are not perfect, except perhaps in your idiosyncrasies and faults.
You are loved. You do not deserve it, nor should you earn it.
You are loved. Without expectations, but against your wishes.
You are loved. Not from afar and despite the magnifying glass.
You are loved. It is not a choice. Neither yours, nor mine.

You are loved. It is not a weapon, or a weight. It is not a promise, or an excuse. It is not an explanation, or a question. It is not a prize, or a punishment.

You are loved. I implode whenever I try to say what I feel.

Love,
me, not only myself, and not I

dear me,

during the past week you realized that you are stronger than I give myself credit for, you have more to give than I thought, and you are more loved than I ever imagined.
Remember that. Hold on to it. Hold on to them.

Love,
you

of words lost in hiding

I think of all the words written but unseen. I remember.
I see all the words written but unseen. I remember why.
I know all the words written but unseen. I remember why they're there.
I feel all the words written but unseen. I remember why they're there and not here.

Each one a fear. Each one a rage. Each one a reason. Each one a madness. Each one a tear. Each one a step.
Each one taken out and swallowed back in.

About the shell the ghost the shadows. About the never ever after. About the words you breathe in and the images you cry out. About the principles of dots. About the labels we wear.
Stories with elephants and giraffes. Stories of my dear almost never ever gonna happen. Short stories for people long gone.

You never fought for me. No one ever fought for me. Not even me.

I would burn my words and drown my thoughts if I thought it helped.
Now it is said. Not to you, but for me. So I can begin.

in between there's something else

Still incapable of tying my high hidden hopes to the obvious and clear appearances, I suffocate my intuition with facts and figures.
My imagination works extra-hours, wild with colorful fairytalish sounds, while I judge every detail with cold pessimistic logic.
Able to paint my mask with surgical precision; but when I don't, my face will expose me to the most inexperienced reader.
I will break down right in front of you with no fore-notice or good-enough reason but I will pull myself together when all hell is breaking loose.
I need to know precisely where I stand, count all measurements, make listed plans in order to create and entertain my chaos and comfortable anarchy of mind, word and objects.
Desperately seeking attention, getting the spotlight will only make me blush-and-go-hide.

I find myself continuously running back and forth between the extremes, bewildered sometimes to be at both ends at the same time. Exhausted, I look in between me and I to find a self that's inside-out, upside-down, inverted.

the war

The worst thing about being at war with yourself is that no matter what you do, you always loose. And unlike the usual wars, it can also end without no one winning. Most of the times you just have a pretty good chance to loose on all fronts and in all ways.
And there will always be other casualties. Innocent bystanders who just happened in your life. Or even the people who care about either you or your sworn enemy self.
So what can you do? Well... you could do the cowardly thing and just run as fast you can. But really, do you honestly think you can outrun yourself? So please, for your sake, and mine, and theirs, offer me a truce and just try and get along.

stiai, nu-i asa?

De unde stii cat de apropiat imi esti? Cum iti dai seama cat de mult tin la tine?

Dupa cate astept de la tine: ma astept sa fii acolo oricand, oricum si de cate ori trebuie pentru mine.
Dupa cum ma astept sa imi citesti gandurile: stiu ca intelegi de ce sunt asa, fara sa trebuiasca sa iti explic.
Dupa cum te nedreptatesc: nu era vina ta, pur si simplu erai in calea supararii mele si ai primit toate rautatile, dar tu nu te superi.
Dupa cat de putin iti zambesc: tie nu trebuie sa iti zambesc daca nu am chef, chiar daca nu ma doare un zambet si il ofer oricui altcuiva.
Dupa cata dezordine gasesti la mine cand vii acolo: nu trebuie sa aranjez nimic pentru tine, pe tine nu te deranjeaza sosetele pe lustra.
Dupa cat de rar imi cer scuze: chiar nu e cazul sa iti spun ca imi pare rau, tu stii ca eu nu am vrut sa fac sau sa zic asta.
Dupa cat de mult te neglijez: nu te superi daca te aman pentru ca exista intotdeauna ceva mai important de facut - conteaza calitatea, nu cantitatea, nu?
Dupa cat de departe merg cu reprosurile si dupa cat de putine aprecieri primesti de la mine: nu trebuie sa iti spun cat de bun esti si cat ma bucur ca te cunosc, e de la sine inteles; in schimb e de datoria mea sa te fac mai bun si sa iti spun tot ce ma deranjeaza la tine.
Dupa cat de urat pot vorbi cu tine sau in preajma ta: pot sa spun "dragalasenii" de birjar fara sa imi cer scuze dupa, atunci cand suntem numai noi, si pot sa spun exact ce gandesc despre tine si felul tau de a fi, asta de fapt inseamna ca sunt relaxat langa tine.
Dupa cat de mult iti plang pe umar: voi fi cel mai increzator si fericit fata de altii, iar tie iti voi spune numai fricile mele, numai problemele mele, pentru ca asta arata ca am incredere in tine.
Dupa lipsa de politete: nu trebuie sa iti multumesc chiar de fiecare data, stii doar ca sunt recunoscator, si un 'mneata mormait iti ajunge cand imi e prea somn pentru mai mult.
Dupa cantitatea de rautati pe care imi permit sa ti le servesc: cand sunt rautacios si te lovesc acolo unde doare mai tare pentru ca eu stiu exact unde sa dau, stiu ca ma vei ierta intotdeauna fiindca tu stii ca de fapt am dreptate, plus ca ne cunoastem prea bine ca sa ne suparam din nimicuri.

Nu e nevoie sa regret nimic, ma cunoasteti si ma acceptati asa cum sunt, altfel nu ati fi langa mine. Si e de datoria voastra sa acceptati tot ce vine de la mine, pentru ca asa sunt eu si nu ati vrea sa ma prefac. Daca nu reusesc sa va conving ca eu am dreptate si nu am gresit de fapt cu nimic, oricum o sa imi iertati orice: pentru ca stiu sa fiu draguta daca trebuie si pentru ca eu am nevoie de voi si nu imi puteti spune nu.

Imi pare rau. De fapt, chiar am nevoie de tine. Ti-o spun, desi ma astept sa o vezi, sa o stii, sa o intelegi.
Eu, tu, noi, voi, toti.