Jurnal

Vara in desert (UAE)

Si gandul asta nu imi da pace, gandul ca sunt cea mai buna varianta a mea doar cand nu iubesc.

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Diavolul m-a sarutat pe umar si m-am simtit in Rai.

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“So when people leave, I’ve learned the secret: let them. Because, most of the time, they have to. Let them walk away and go places. Let them have adventures in the wild without you. Let them travel the world and explore life beyond a horizon that you exist in. And know, deep down, that heroes aren’t qualified by their capacity to stay but by their decision to return.” — The Staying Philosophy, Isa Garcia

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Text message: I want you and I will have you.

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Zile in care leg bandaje pe rani permanente.

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I lied. I do that, you know, when it suits me. I would have thoughts you’d realized that by now. Anne Stuart.

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‘You will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit. — Oscar Wilde

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Cred ca depresia incepe cand nu mai simti nimic. Cat timp esti trist sau fericit esti inca in limitele normalului. Depresia nu inseamna nefericire. Depresia e sentimentul ca traiesti intr-o bula in exteriorul infinit al totului. Totul se intampla in fata ta dar undeva departe, intr-o lume din care faci parte dar la care nu ai acces. 

Cineva ma intreaba daca mai vreau sampanie. Nu ar trebui sa mai beau, dar ii intind paharul. Bianca face la fel. 

– Ce picioare frumoase ai si mai ales ce culoare! imi spune ea si imi mangaie genunchii. Intre mine si ea toate gesturile sunt erotice dar in acelasi timp lipsite de erotism. Cu mai toate femeile din viata mea am un comportament oarecum sexual, oarecum pasional. Bianca e cea mai intima prietena a mea din cauza ca nu exista dorinta doar prietenie. 

Ma uit la prietenii mei si stiu ca locul meu nu mai e aici. 

Ma scuz si intreb unde e baia. Bianca ma intreaba daca sunt bine. O asigur ca da. Cand ajung la baie vomit demoni. Nu e alcoolul. Am aceiasi senzatie cand ma trezesc. Senzatia ca viata ma strange de gat.

Pilot automat: ma intorc in camera de zi cu un zambet. Povestile mele sunt dureri amestecate in dulceata.

Nimic nu mai are sens, intelegi ce spun?

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Scriu imbracata in vesminte in care nu cred, inconjurata de ceaiuri aromate si diamante. Sunt cel mai trist suflet din Paradis. 

I-am spui lui Dumnezeu azi ca nu e vina lui.

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Depression it’s a side effect of dying.

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-You’re a dog, i-am spus.

-True darling, but dogs and angels are not very far apart.

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On my terrace, naked, I am smoking a joint with God.

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18 August 2018, Miercuri in Abu Dhabi.

Poate ca nu Dumnezeu a inventat batranetea, ci noi oamenii, din dragoste si ura pentru viata.

“There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind.”
Are you sure, C.S. Lewis ?

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I drank coffee and read old books and waited for the year to end. Richard Brautigan.

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In timp ce mi-a desfacut rochia mi-a soptit: Draga mea, daca crezi in ceva cu adevarat nimeni nu poate sa iti spuna ca nu e asa.

10 Octombrie 2018, Sambata in Dubai

A butterfly’s dream.

28 Octombrie 2015, Ray’s Bar in Abu Dhabi

Ma intreb, cand incepi sa te ierti mai usor inseamna ca ai mult self – confidence sau ca ai mai putina morala?

4 Noiembrie 2015, Bice Restaurant in Abu Dhabi

Mimosas si fine dinning.

Overpriced life.
Bubbles.
My Diamond Bible.

Am mai fost aici dar parca balanta nu a dansat niciodata mai mult decat acum.
Ma simt ca tinerii care erau trimisi in razboi.

Oare imi dezamagesc viitorul?

Zile in Noiembrie si Decemberie 2015

Françoise Sagan — ‘Money may not buy happiness, but I’d rather cry in a Jaguar than on a bus.‘

I do cry in a Jaguar Françoise, but it does not mean it hurts less.

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Zile ca si acestea, in care imi topesc toate mastile si imi ung sufletul cu uleiul lor. Adica creez.

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– Ce ai mai facut in ultimul timp?

– Am razbunat durerile altora, din plictiseala.

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”[…]fericirea, te rog să mă crezi, nu impresionează pe nimeni şi nici nu se pot scrie mai mult de trei pagini despre ea.”
― Mihail Drumeş, Scrisoare de dragoste

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– Ce crezi despre casatorie? m-a intrebat el.

– Cred ca e un shakespearean way prin care o iubire se sinucide.

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Zile in asternuturi moi, albe, patate cu dimineti tarzii.

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Zile pline de absenta.

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Zile in cocktail de ganduri tulburi, zambete, amintiri amarui amestecate cu alcool auriu si dulce.

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“Everything was for tomorrow, but tomorrow never came. The present was only a bridge and on this bridge they are still groaning, as the world groans, and not one idiot ever thinks of blowing up the bridge.”
― Henry Miller

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Adevarul e complicat ca numai minciunile sunt simple.

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I want you to dominate me.

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Stralucirea pe care o cauta orice corp cand se stie iubit.

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‘’E-atata rutina pe lume si-atat de putin adevar’’
― Arta conversatiei Ileana Vulpescu

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After a while, you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul.

And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning and company doesn’t mean security. And you begin to understand that kisses aren’t contracts and presents aren’t promises. And you begin to accept your defeats with your head held high and your eyes wide open, with the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child.

You learn to build your roads on today, because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.

After a while you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much.

So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul, instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure, that you really are strong. And that you really do have worth and that you keep learning. With every goodbye you learn.
(Author Unknown)