You were right, Darling

Today I was just talking with P. about you, when I remembered something you said last New Years Eve.

Remember Last New Years Eve? When I was crying at 1 am with a bottle of white wine in bed, watching Sex and the City?

That was when you predicted that I would stop drinking red wine with Coke, that I would get a sales job and that I would meet a man with brains, looks and spirit. A man worthy of me, as you said.

Guess what, Darling?

You were right.

I got a sales job. And then I lost it 2 weeks after.

I met the guy of my dreams. He's 2000km away from me.

And I drink a lot of red wine. Without Coke.

So cheers, let's drink to forgetting you ever wished me anything. Let's drink to chaos, and not knowing what might happen and not giving a damn about predictions.

Let's just drink.

To you being right, Darling.

https://youtu.be/co5gy_2uOEY?list=PLhcnHz5xhl2pIlP9l342peKjWifzn1SKM

Needy poem

I used to be the band-aid that covered your wounds.

that ignored your issues and smiled to you despite them.

that listened to your problems and then tell you it's all going to be fine.

that carried your load when you couldn't.

I used to be your hideaway, that's what you called me.

your perfect friend that would never let you down.

your clown on a rainy day.

your secret passion.

I used to be used.

like a medicine.

like a drug.

like a second soul that took in all the grief, and pain and suffering for you.

I used to think it's okay.

Go on, light me up again, pour me into your veins.

Hide with me, color me in shades of night and don't ever let anybody ever find me.

Let me stop your bleeding and turn your wounds into scars and your scars into memories that fade. 

Memories that fade.

Like I do.

Close your eyes. I never existed.

I never deserved to exist.

Some drugs don't deserve to be illegal.

Some hideaways don't deserve to be secluded.

And I'm pretty sure, even though I don't exist,

that not all band-aids deserve to be ripped.

Wake up

Today I heard your name for the first time in 2 months. I felt as if I was electrocuted, a million impulses running through me, all pointing to your face, your smell, your smile, to all that I did not leave myself miss all this time.
And it's strange, since you have such an unusual name. It felt weird to stand there, midway my smile, with my hands in the air, feeling my stomach bungee-jump.
It was a smiling woman mouth that said your name. She pronounced it so distinctly, so enunciated, so deliberate and yet so unknowing of its toxic effect. She didn't even pronounce it correctly. You've always had a funny name. I always used to make fun of it.
Right in the middle of the last vowel, I felt all the air in my lungs hurt and I had to let it out and then hold my breath. And yet she remained ignorant to my secret suffering and rambled on.
And it was all our history.
How we used to dream.
To work.
To smile.
To laugh and laugh and laugh till it hurt.
She talked about our dream as if it was the most common thing in the world.
Our dream, our beautiful grand dream. Oh, how I miss dreaming with you, darling. I miss dreaming about you. I miss waking up with my very first though being you. I miss waking up with you. Coming home to you. Finding you there. Staying up all night with you. Being your hideaway.
How could you? How could you make my dream come true?
How could you turn my beautiful dream into the cold reality of this woman?
How could you?
How could you?

As she finished talking, I took a deep breath and I re-composed myself. I rose from the table, cold smile on my face, cold heart in my chest, cold solitude all around me. And I just pretended it never happened. And then it hit me. Maybe I was dreaming all this entire time.

Wake up, Alexandra.

am o inimă atât de proastă că vrea să fie plămân

cred că am uitat iar că am o biată inimă. nici nu vrei să știi prin câte a trecut din vina mea. mereu o uit prin tot felul de locuri, mai mult sau mai puțin prietenoase. cel mai rău e că uneori nici ea nu vrea să mai vină cu mine. se oprește la alte inimi, beau și fumează în timp ce dansează pe mese. a doua zi vine acasă. zdrelită și beată.
de data asta chiar am luat-o de urechi. păi se mai poate așa?

- ori te faci inimă de treabă, ori nu mai pupi afară. sau te dau la câini, ne-am înțeles?
tace și plânge ca o proastă. parcă n-o știu. o zi-două să treacă și o văd iar, zurbagie și zbanghie.

- numai belele îmi faci, degeaba orăcăi acum!

- ești de căcat, băi inimă, pe bune. cum adică fugi de acasă, te-ai țăcănit?!

- hai, gata, gata, știi doar că îți vreau doar binele.

se uită la mine cu ochi mari și printre suspine îmi zice:
- ah, dacă eram un plămân!
bineînțeles că nici plămânu', orgolios din cale afară, nu se lasă mai prejos:
- fă proasto, din cauza ta era să mor acum două zile! când ți-a zis ăla că nu te vrea, gata, repede, te sufoci!
- mai taci, fraiere, că fără mine erai un nimic!
- era cât pe ce să mă tușească asta din cauza ta! de față cu prostul ăla după care mori!

inima se ridică furioasă și se uită amenințător către plămân.
- hai, lasă, că mai vedem noi. bine că s-a apucat de fumat. scap și de tine... și de ea!


la câțiva kilometri depărtare, inima inimii mele dansează, beată și drogată.
și nici nu știe să mai vină acasă...

When the guy you like is a shmuck

You just have to make sure to at least purchase one bottle of wine. Ignore the judgemental look of the store clerk and just ask for change to a 100 bill and then make up your mind 100.23 times whether you need a plastic bag or not.
Apply bottle of wine to forehead and smash really hard 100 times till you feel your prefrontal cortex got the picture and then just make sure you hard-wire it in your basal ganglia.
Pour wine into glass.
Watch at least 5 men look suspiciously at you because you just put Diet Coke in your glass of wine. Give 0 fucks whatsoever.
Cry like you mean it.
How can you love a shmuck?
Now go hug yourself!

closure

I hate it.
and I hate me more
when I don't love
you
you
you had to go
there was no more space
in my heart for
you
you
you cluttered my veins
stumbled on my defenses
broke through my lines of attack
tasted the cinder and smoke
of the most terrible war
I started for
you
you
you take so little
when you deserve so much more
so please, darling
take my hand
my lips
burn them
and take what you will
in the fire of
you.

Quotes I thought about this week

"Life is so cruel that sometimes not even socks get to find their other half." - Unknown, could be me :)

"Leave the gun. Take the cannoli." Clemenza, The Godfather I