Miercuri dimineața. Știri. Cafea.

Președinte. Dezvăluiri. Schimbarea legii.

Instituții, aprobări, interviu la radio.

Cărți. Politica. Mai multe cărți. Articole. Securitate.

Ultimul discurs al lui Barack Obama ca președinte.

Marea Britanie.

Insulte.

Revolta.

Piața Universității.

Protest? Ce protest?

Drept. Drept și justiție.

Încălcări. Minciuni. Iar minciuni. Minciuni iara. Minciuni punct ro.

Atac. Schimbări de tactica.

Franța. Alegeri.

Nu știm. Hai sa luptam. Cu ce? Alta cafea.
M-a privit înapoi reflexia din ecranul laptopului. “Am albit in 10 minute de când citesc știrile”. Mama rade la declarația mea. Eu nu rad.

Cu cât ma informam mai mult, cu cât mi se puneau cap la cap toate informațiile pe care le-am adunat in câteva luni de citit cărți și de documentare zilnică, am realizat ca e de cacat. Foarte de cacat. Și dacă nu e de cacat, e complicat. E complex.

Și întrebarea fireasca a fost “cum pot sa ajut?”  Ma macină de câteva zile întrebarea asta, și partea prosta e ca răspunsul sta foarte bine ascuns cum sta și mizeria înfiorătoare de sub afirmații publice.

a boy with blue eyes gave me so much love in the last month. The problem is that he gave the same love to other girls.

Am I being human or I just got crazy that I want someone that wants me back?

Maybe I have an old perception of love. Maybe I am selfish. Maybe I will get tired of waiting for nothing and maybe people will regret loosing my love over repeatedly stupid shit. Maybe then they will see how much I love I could have given to them if they would have open up to me or maybe they will want me like I want to be wanted.

Maybe it will be an happy ending. Maybe.

Sometimes I wish I’d never met you and hope I’d never think of you ever again and sometimes I try to remember all the moments, to not forget a single thing about you, about us. I don’t want to forget how you had the most beautiful laugh and the most amasing mind. I don’t want to forget how much magnetism we had. How in 2 weeks we could look at eachother and know what the other was thinking. I don’t want to forget any of the many many jokes and laughs we had. You were too fucking incredible to let myself forget you. But sometimes I miss you so much, I want to pull out every memory of you from my mind and heart because it is too much pain to handle. 

I learnt in some months to not think of you non stop. I actually didn’t thought of you for days in a row. 

But everytime I hear a sad song, or I find something relating to you, or the moments I sit in silence with my thoughts (which I never allow myself to), I burst in tears for hours. 

I don’t know how much longer this will continue. Maybe forever because you really were important to me. 

I just wish I could move on like you did. I really wish that. I hope that I could not miss you like you do not miss me. I just want to let go of you how you did of me. 

The funny thing is that you always were rational and I always was sentimental. So I guess I lost because of this. 

It’s kinda pathetic I still write about you after all this time and after all the stuff you said to me making it clear that you don’t want me anymore. And I still tried. 

Sometimes I regret that I fought for you so hard. So hard. Maybe it would be different. Or the same. But at least, I wouldn’t have spend so much money to see you only for an half of hour. Or I wouldn’t have cried in front of you. Or making myself a fool in front of your friends. Or just putting my everything to you so you could just push it away. 

I’ve been heartbroken before. It’s not a premiere or something. You were just so different and so good for my heart and life.. I guess I wasn’t like that to you, even though you always told me I was incredible and yours and etc

Maybe I was not good enough for you, like I was not good enough for everyone that I loved. 

“I want to let go of the pain I carry but I lit the cigarette and once more I was ablaze. I cannot rid of you, you are in my fucking veins and I wish I could carve you out with the blade I thought was in my hands the whole time. So I learn to live with you. I learn to avoid the cigarettes you tasted of and the cologne you wore that danced with the smell of the smoke. I avoid your road even if I want to run to your house and scream, scream until my lungs collapse, until my pain becomes yours. You destroyed me and it’s a new year but that means fuck all in the grand scheme of things. I’m still that little naive 15 year old who wanted nothing more than to be loved and feel loved. That little 15 year old who had lost her two best friends and was absolutely fucking alone in the world. That little 15 year old who was drowning in a cocktail of anxiety, depression and ridiculous amounts of self destruction. That little 15 year old who thought she had the power but turns out you had the razor and you cut me open until I was nothing but dust.”