The story of Min and how I learned to stop shouting - part II

The word was MUSIC.
Music. Music.
Music, where did I hear about that, asked Min himself. I´m sure I heard it somewhere.
A strange thought started to haunt him.
Was it a dream?
He started searching his memory, digging into each dream he ever had. What was MUSIC? Where did he hear about it? Why does it sound so familiar?
He went home, tired and excited at the same time. A headache was pulsating on his temple as he went to bed without eating. He wanted to sleep. He had to sleep in order to dream.
And he did dream.
He dreamt about a girl, so happy and so full of dreams that she could have made Silencia look like the saddest place on Earth compared to the wonderful world she´d create even with a word or a gesture.
She was not beautiful, but to his eyes.
She was not sweet, but to his taste.
She was not real, but to his hands.
She was not alive, but to his mind.
And so he woke up feeling the touch of her deep inside of him and he knew he´ll never be the same. He knew he will not stop looking for her in the real world, as long as she was alive in his dream world.
He immediately packed his things and started planning his trip around the world to find her. He knew she was not living in Silcencia. He knew she must be somewhere else.

His parents were concerned, but they let him decide what was best for himself.
And for the first time in his life, Min had a purpose. A purpose so clear, so palpable, so strong it made his eyes water with tears of joy. He felt happier than ever.

He left in a week´s time. He decided to first try going to the East, since that was the world least explored in the books he read.
And to his mind it made perfect sense that his best chances of finding Music were there.
As he was crossing the border he made a decision. As soon as finds Music, he will...

Woohoo.

There's a part of me that doesn't want me to speak to anybody.
There's a part of me that doesn't want to speak to you in special.
There's a part of me that really really wants to hear your voice.
And there's a part of me that really craves for pizza.
I don't know why, it's just how my mind works.
All in all, today was a pretty fucked up day.
I guess any day you get to see that ex you hate and wish you could stab with a rusty knife enter your local store with his new girlfriend can qualify as a pretty fucked up day. You should just take a break from life and start over.
Kidding about the rusty knife part.
Actually, I'm not.
But at least I'm embracing my inner rage. I'm not in denial anymore. Woohoo.

So yeah, this is basically me not falling asleep and begging that a little bit of writing will do me good.
Cause if this doesn't work, I'm going to just text you that I miss you, OK? Please just text me back you miss me too and we'll just call it a day.

Hey, this writing thing does help! Woohoo.

Actually, the reason why I'm writing is because I'm out of wine. Writing seemed like the next best thing after getting slightly drunk and going to bed. Another thing I am not in denial anymore. I am an adult that drinks in average one bottle of wine per day. No, I am not an alcoholic. I just happen to like wine. And get dangerously dehydrated over the day. Give me a break. Thanks.

I've been replaying this entire day in my head and also realized I feel guilty for putting my trash bag in another trash can than the one assigned to my building. Bad Alexandra.
One of the neighbors called me bitch because of that. I just smiled and said "OK" like it was the most natural thing in the world. Guess another thing I feel now comfortable with is being called bitch and not giving a fuck. Woohoohoo.

So I guess this post doesn't make any sense. Well, not to you, my virtual amigo that got lost on the internet. I guess you are wondering how the hell you got here and what in the name of Bananahammock did you just read.

Hey, don't be too hard on yourself. Unless you're a bad person. Then you should definitely be hard to yourself.
Man, I'm not making any sense!
OK, I'll stop.

The story of Min and how I learned to stop shouting

Once upon a time there was a country far far away.

A country of many colors and shapes and textures, a country so glorious and so crazy in its existence that you could taste the sky and you could swim in forests of apple trees. 

Birds would dance around flying flowers and tiny mountains would sprout on the ceiling of the rainbow houses where lovely friendly people lived in peace with one another. They were the happiest people on the planet of Earth; they would be good neighbors to each other, always ready to help and welcoming. They would never fight and there was no such thing as a conflict in this land.

The divorce rate was 0% and there would be a wedding every weekend; they would drink fuchsia beer out of floating sparkling glasses then, play funny games and exchange gifts with each other.

All kids in this country were happy. All elders in this country were grateful with the lives they lived, that's why each death here was celebrated instead of mourned. 

Everything was bliss. Everything was peace.

A peace so deep that the entire country lived in silence.

Because this was the strangest thing about Silencia, for this is the country I am talking about. There were no sounds here. No music. Everything was quiet. And all its inhabitants were deaf. They would communicate only in written and by the use of gestures.

Which brings us back to our story.  

Once upon a time in Silencia there was a strange little boy named Min.

Min was just about your age or mine. He liked to play football and going to the cinema (where all movies were silent) and most of all he loved to dream. He dreamed about foreign countries and fantastic worlds and fairy-tale creatures. All kids in his school called him Weirdo because they found him strange. They couldn't understand his fascination with other things, different things, curious things. It was the same with the teachers. They all thought Min should be home schooled and not forced to study in a normal institution. They would call him special.

So they all left poor Min by himself, not realizing this way he would become even more absorbed with his inner world.

I forgot to mention that Silencia was always welcoming foreigners and that they had very good relationships with all the surrounding countries. However, it was very rare that people would leave Silencia. So rare, that people on Earth would always make fun of the silencers, that they are as rare as hen's teeth. 

Anyway, as days went by and Min graduated, he was very confused about what he should do. All his colleagues had their career decisions taken even before starting high-school.

Another strange thing about Silencia was that for some reason there were very few fiction books published by silencers. So when Min told his family he will start working on writing a fiction book, they were a little disappointed; but since they were good silencers, they couldn't help being happy about his choice in the end.

One day, as he was doing research work for his book, Min stumbled on a word he didn't understand. And not only that he didn't understand it, he couldn't find it in the dictionary and all papers he consulted in order to find an explanation for the term were not very helpful, as the concept was not familiar at all to him.

The word was...

mi-e sufletul îmbibat de tine

mi-e sufletul îmbibat de tine.
în urechi îmi țiuie jazz.
mă trezesc cu tine în gând, și e un gând drag, nici nu mă deranjează în timp ce îmi servesc micul dejun și cafeaua cea de toate zilele sau în timp ce-mi aranjez părul în oglindă.
un zâmbet senin îmi flutură pe buze. știu că și tu te gândești la mine.
apoi ziua înflorește, și bune, rele, toate se împletesc într-un melaj din care aleg doar ce mi se potrivește. uneori pot să înfrunt tot răul, alteori mă simt slabă. uneori îmi plesnește inima de bunăvoie și țopăi ca un copil în jurul oamenilor dragi. alteori mă strâmb la ei. de cele mai multe ori, însă, îi iubesc prea mult să nu mă iubească și ei.
și clipele trec, trec, trec, și uit de tine, apoi îmi amintesc, sau îmi amintești tu, și zâmbesc, zâmbesc, zâmbesc, până iar mi se face atât de dor că simt cum îmi cresc aripi. aripi cu care aș putea să zbor la tine.
când seara se lasă, dorul de tine devine pălălaie.
și-atunci mă las purtată de muzică, de cuvinte citite prin cine știe ce carte, mă las inundată de orice stinge marea de foc ce-mi incolțește în inimă. și tu mă mângâi, uneori mai atent, alteori mai distras, uneori mai absent, alteori sârguincios și cu chef de joacă.
mi-e sufletul îmbibat de tine. și mă simt un om mai bun.

we'll meet again

don't know when
don't know when

you go to my head

you go to my head
like red wine
like light on a Sunday morning
like the jazz song I keep hearing in my head
each time we kiss.

you go to my heart
like real tears
of joy
and sorrow
like the warmth of an embrace that makes
the sun shine on us so bright.

you go with me
my darling
and I with you
we're drunk
in love
and wishing we could be
apart
but only
at the distance of one heart.

PS - you just told me I am drunk.
PPS - that's exactly what I want to be.