I think this spring was never supposed to come, anyway. It was not on the list… And yet it came, carressed our cheeks with warmth and hope, smiled at us and enchanted us with its cinnamon flavour, then dissappeared…
I guess it went back to wherever it came from… like it never came…
And yet, watching the clouds outside, i still feel the hot rays on my skin, still feel my head dizzy with the cinnamon smell that never left… And i wonder… Was it real or just a dream???

Some words hurt more than others, some hurt more to be said than heard… Some hurt no matter what…

Some would say that the worst ones are the last… But i think the worst are the unspoken ones… The ones you never have the chance to say or hear… Cause these are the lost ones…

what hurts most is the silence…

a world asking and waiting and playing and biting… cruel but delicious, wicked and sweet… crazy, crazy, crazy world out there…

or maybe the world is normal and i am crazy… or maybe it’s just late and i should get to sleep…

There is the “blonde” label … Everybody uses it, i use it also… No matter the mind and soul beneath the blonde hair, or, in certain cases, no matter the color of the hair…I use it on myself as an ironical excuse.

Then there is the “artist” label… It’s accusing and excusing in the same time for not fitting in the society rules concerning outfits and behaviour, for not caring that much about the material stuff, for day dreaming, for a different way of expressing yourself… I personally love the “artists”, i love the way they usually dress, on a thin line between awsome and grotesque, and i envy them for being able to feel at ease, to express themselves without that stupid thought “what will people think about” that is terrorizing the rest of us…

There is the age label… The more stuborn, painful and hard to deal with label…it screws with the way you are behaving, thinking, dressing, feeling, eating, f…ing everything… I don’t know… Are there manuals about how people of different ages shoul dress/ behave/ think/ feel??? Is there a legislation on this??? Should we have learnt the rules when we were taught to speak, maybe we could have made a program and choose then when we wanted out… At some age you are too little to do a thing, then you are too old for the same shit, but most important, we always seem to have missed that very special moment when it was appropriate to do it… How was that possible???? Why didn’t anyone informe us? Or was/is it just an urban story, invented by a sick mind, in order to limit the way we express ourselves??

There is the “love talking to you” label… Does that mean you are a good listener? Empatic? Interesting? Available? Patient? Someone one could learn from?

I specially love the ” not to open till Christmas” one. No matter when Christmas is… So they put you in a dark cold corner, check on you from time to time and shake you upside down a couple of times not to settle to much, and place you back …

Sometimes the glue they use is so strong that no matter what happens, that label remains stuck in you for ever… “bu i thought you were…”- i was what??? Did they at least made the effort of testing what’s inside the jar??? Or they just read the label and found it sufficient?
Ew…

Ne devine un tel, ne-o dorim cu disperare atunci cand n-o avem…iar cand o avem, cum ne dam seama? Este intr-adevar Ea sau un surogat? Sau ne amagim singuri ca suntem fericiti atunci cand ne incearca o bucurie de moment?

Este fericirea zambetul pe care prima zi de primavara ti-l smulge fara sa vrei, in plina strada, cand in sfarsit ti-ai ridicat pleoapele obosite de atata gri si vezi albastrul cerului si verdele crud?  Atunci cand simti pe piele razele plapande ale soarelui, cand vantul cald iti sopteste : ”trezeste-te, este o noua zi…”

Este fericirea ceea ce simti cand auzi un multumesc, cand vezi zambetul din ochii celuilalt, si stii ca o parte infima din acel zambet esti tu? Sau fericirea consta in a-i veghea somnul celui iubit, a-i simti respiratia langa pieptul tau si linistea din suflet? Este fericirea stolul de fluturi din stomac, emotia a ce urmeaza sa se intample, sau ceea ce simti cand iubesti ca un nebun, fara tine, fara limite? 

Sau clipa in care poti sa uiti de toate, de tine, de haosul din viata ta, de regrete, de temeri si de amintiri? Acea pretioasa clipa a prezentului, fara asteptari, fara consecinte, in care savurezi o cafea pe o terasa, privind lumea din jur ca intr-un film mut, rupt de toate si de tot, acea pretioasa clipa care este doar a ta?

 Poate fericirea inseamna doar lipsa nefericirii. Acele momentele in care nu esti cazut in genunchi simtind ca timpul a stat in loc, si singura dimensiune pe care o percepi  este durerea… acele momente in care lacrimile ti-au secat, in care resemnarea  ti se asterne in suflet ca o mult asteptata moleseala , in care poti ridica iar fruntea si spune “fie ce-a fi”?

Poate ca fericirea difera in functie de universul fiecaruia… Atunci cand tot ce cunosti e disperare, fericirea poate insemna momentele de calm intre doua furtuni…Iar cand ti se pare ca ai totul, oare mai poti gasi ceva care sa te faca fericit?

 Poate ca fericirea este suma miilor de bucurii de moment ce te inconjoara ca o mare de fulgi de zapada, fiecare perfect in felul lui, fiecare topindu-se pe masura ce te atinge, facand loc altuia si altuia si altuia… si poate, pierzandu-te in a le savura efemera existenta, uiti de nevoia disperata de a gasi “fericirea”, de a fi “fericit”, si te lasi liber sa simti ceea ce ti se intampla, cu bune si rele, cu sperante si dezamagiri, cu zambete si lacrimi…

Poate asta e fericirea…pur si simplu sa fii.

This post is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Password: