cuvinte rătăcite despre ceea ce este, la modul continuu, a fost cândva şi va fi mereu

Cateodată mă gândesc câte ţi-aş spune dacă ai fi faţă în faţă cu mine. Dacă aş avea curaj să ţi le spun. Şi dacă nu aş avea curaj să ţi le zic in faţă, dacă aş putea să ţi le scriu? Probabil aş începe cu întrebarea: dacă te-aş ruga să citeşti pană la capăt, ai face-o? Dacă te-aş ruga chiar să-mi răspunzi, mi-ai răspunde? Dar când pun întrebarea mă gândesc imediat… De ce întreb asta? Doar ştiu că vei citi şi vei răspunde, dacă te rog. Atunci întrebarea e de ce aş mai întreba? De ce aş întreba dacă aş fii atât de sigură că răspunzi? Poate pentru că nu sunt. Pentru că nu prea m-ai convins până acum. Cumva ai reuşit tu să faci în aşa fel încât să te scuteşti de cam tot ce înseamnă eu, şi ce se întamplă cu mine în cele 6 luni, în care chiar nu sunt în aceiaşi câţiva km2 cu tine. Dar întotdeauna ai vrut tu să ştii exact când sunt acolo unde eşti şi tu. Pentru că zici ca îţi e dor de mine. Dacă aş fii numai raţională aş zice că nu te cred. De ce să cred ca îţi e dor de mine când toţi cei cărora chiar le e dor de mine îmi scriu, mă întreabă, se interesează. Nu toţi zic că le e dor de mine, dar uneori chiar nu e nevoie. E de la sine înţeles. Te-ai întrebat vreodată dacă cuvintele tale chiar înseamnă ce înseamnă? Când zici că îţi e dor de mine, chiar îţi e? Întrebând asta ştiu de fapt deja răspunsul. Ştiu că nu eşti un mincinos, ştiu că nu ai avea motive să mă minţi. Nu eu sunt cea din viaţa ta pe care ar trebui să o minţi pentru a o duce în pat. În primul rând pentru că patul tău este la 1666 km distanţă de mine, apoi pentru ca amândoi ştim, că ai altele pe care le poţi minţi pentru asta, dar mai ales pentru că şi tu ştii şi eu ştiu că nu trebuie să mă minţi pentru a mă duce în pat.
Nu te-ai întrebat deloc de ce nu te-am anunţat că sunt acasă? Deloc, deloc? Ştiu că ştii, aşa cum nu e secret faţă de nimeni, că tu eşti punctul meu sensibil. Nu ne-am văzut de mai bine de un an, pentru că atunci când am fost acasă, în primăvara anului trecut, aveam pe cineva şi n-aş fi vrut să-l rănesc, nici măcar să ofer o şansă în acest sens. Nu prea am avut încredere în mine (şi sincer, nici în tine), aşa ca am decis că mai bine nu risc şi nu voi vrea să te văd, nici măcar în compania altora. În vară, când am fost acasă, tocmai mă desparţisem de el, atunci n-aş fi vrut să-mi fii consolare. Aş fi simţit că te folosesc. Eu fac multe chestii rele, dar asta nu. Iar acum, saptămânile trecute nu a trecut o zi în care să nu mă fi gândit să te sun, sau să îţi scriu să ne vedem. Dar m-au oprit câteva lucruri. Cum ar fi faptul că tu nu ţi-ai dat seama că am fost acolo. Adică, am postat în oricate feluri am putut să nu cumva să fie secret. Nu ţi-ai dat seama. Mă întreb de ce? Şi încă câteva chestii… cum ar fi fost să ne fi văzut? Nu tot aşa ca de fiecare data? Nu ştiu pentru tine ce înseamnă de fiecare dată, dar pentru mine arată cam aşa: te sun (pentru că trebuie sa fiu eu cea care iniţiază), vii (pentru că nici tu n-ai sta departe de mine), la început suntem toţi acolo (încerc din toate puterile să-mi ascund fericirea, care parcă mi-ar ieşi prin pori, când sunt cu tine. Încerc să mă gândesc la altceva, la ce mult te-ai schimbat, ai crescut, devii din ce în ce mai bărbat, şi iar mă surprind zâmbind, între timp mă gândesc ce voi spune când cineva care a observat deja că-mi sclipesc ochii, mă va întreba de ce sunt atât de fericită. Voi spune bineînţeles că viaţa mea e minunată. Şi chiar e. Şi când mai eşti şi tu prezent, atunci e ceva incredibil deja), apoi vine inevitabilul te uiţi la mine, mă uit la tine, mă întrebi, te întreb, zâmbeşti, zâmbesc (zâmbesc), apoi cumva oamenii dispar din jurul nostru. Suntem doar noi doi. Şi nimic altceva din lume nu există. Suntem fericiţi. Nu de tot, pentru că ştim că nu vom fi aşa pentru mai mult de câteva ore.
Apoi, atât de poetic, ca în Romeo şi Julieta, vine dimineaţa, şi indiferent de ce s-a întâmplat sau nu s-a întâmplat noaptea trecută, zâmbim şi ne luăm rămas bun. Şi ajungi să mă faci fericită cu amintirea ta, sau când îmi răsună în minte cuvintele tale, sau când cumva mirosul tău mi-a rămas în nări, şi nu mai vrea să iasă. Momentele când degeaba ar avea voce raţiunea mea, pentru că sentimentele mele cântă şi dansează şi nu sunt în stare să aud ce-mi zic. Bineînţeles, tu ai grijă să nu plutesc prea multă vreme pentru că uneori mi se pare că uiţi atât de repede de mine cum îmi amintesc eu dintr-o dată de tot ce a fost demult între noi. Şi e momentul în care trebuie să-mi dau seama că e mai bine aşa. Mă bucur că nu mă suni „a doua zi” pentru că ştiu că oricum nu aş vrea să fiu cu tine. Şi îţi zic: bucură-te că te-ai despărţit doar odată de mine. Fii fericit pentru asta, pentru că nu ai vrea să ştii de câte ori a trebuit eu să mă despart de tine. Să îmi spun: gata, nu te mai gândi la el, să îmi cumpăr biletul şi să plec, în alt oraş, în altă ţară, să realizez că atunci când vine vorba de decizii de luat pe viaţă, mă face extrem de fericită decizia pe care am luat-o. Că deşi sentimentele şi dorinţele mele mă leagă de tine, nu aş face schimb, nici măcar un compromis.

this Christmas

is different for both of us. Every year before we used to take time on ourselves, get together, and be in the same city at least for the holidays. Now we are on two different continents, and none of us is actually 'home'. We used to meet, and be like the best two of 'Friends', and hug longely, speek freely about all of our lifes, as if we could relive all those once more, just through looking each other in the eyes, holding hands and making words. You used to talk, and I used to listen, and then I talked and you listened. And then I'll get all depressed and nostalgic, whilst you were always so happy with your present (present) life. And even though I thought to be happier than you were, or at least more fullfilled, you would end up conforting me always. I used to meet memories again, and tend to go back 3, 4, 5 years, forget about everything and do stupid things, then come to you to talk about them. You would always be there, even though you would have allready told that that's not the thing that would make me happy. And we would meet our friends and just all of us would pretend to be fullfilled together. I am absolutely conviced that it was just the two of us who was actually happy. Happy to be together.
But this year I took off and did not come back. Not even for the holidays. And you, as well chose to follow your way, which lead you to the man you love.
This Christmas is all about loneliness for me, but the hardest of all is not being able to see you.
So here I am, as in every year taking care of my present lists, making sure that I prepare for everyone I love something as good as I can, and concentrating all my energy on this one last week, as I ever did, always with this double feeling of happiness, as I spend my last time before Christmas with my friends, then again feeling as well the happiness of booking a ticket, packing, taking off and go home. This year is just the first one.
Then again, I am home. And you are home as well. I am taking the step I needed to take, out of the vicious circle of how my life would be and you took a step closer on following your heart. So, this Christmas is about celebrating. And about the birth. I really feel the implication of birth this year. It smells other than I supposed it would. Birth does not smell like cinnamon. But it does bring a new human into life.
So, I celebrate birth this year for Christmas. On as many levels as I can. And I celebrate that I was right on thinking that there is no Christmas without you, because there is indeed no Christmas without you! But who said you are not here with me? And I not there with you? I am always. You can never loose the people you love. I was there on your happiest and saddest moments. I was there as you got engaged, and I was there as you were left (on one level) alone. I'll be there at your wedding, and at the birth of all your children. You are here with me as I'm just dreaming of an engagement ring, as you were there in each and every one of my dreams and break downs. And I'm sure as hell you'll be there at my engagement, and my wedding, and the birth of all my children. I just realized we will be always there. Until one of us would bury the other one.

far, far

Far, far there was this little girl…

Yeah, well, I guess it depends on what we call „far”. Everything is far away from everything, or again everything is close to everything else, is just a matter of point of view. Lucky us, that there is Somebody who was always close to everyone of us. And this will not chance, no matter the country, neither how we feel. Whatever, the fact is, that I’ve set on to this way. I’ve said my goodbyes, my ’God bless you’-s, my ’I love you’-s; everybody got theirr hugs and kisses. Well, not quite everybody… there were some whom I didn’t hugged and kissed goodbye, as I left. I shed due tears, the heart broke in its due time and place at some last sights. Bus engine was turned on, the driver made sure it’s ok to leave, and we left. I watched some last time the streets I was used to, and then I waved goodbye to Brasov, and waved goodbye to Budapest.

…she was praying for something to happen to her…

I’ll quote better: „The first book I wrote, finished with there was no answer. Now I know, Lord, why didn't you respond. You are the answer. Before your face any questions fade. What other response would be appropriate? All other words are only one against the other, set in a mere battlefield. For a long time I hated you, for a long time were afraid of You. Perhaps know-„ (C. S. Lewis – Till we have faces translation by me).
I was looking for Him. But I didn’t allow myself to find the answer. I’ve already been anxious and happy as well. But I haven’t been yet His. Till He found my trust. He achieved that in the most beautiful way He could, and with the most loveable man He could. But then He took him away, and with him, most likely everything. And He called me. I realized I needed to stand in front of Him by myself, I need to hear His voice by myself and I need to fight Him by myself. Just like Jacob did once upon a time.

…everyday she writes words and more words just to speak out the thoughts that keep floating inside
…and she’s drawn when the dreams come cuz’ they take her, cover her, they are all over…
…the reality looks far now, but don’t go….

I could tell a story about how it’s like to be alone, yet I cannot. I don’t think there are words expressing how I really feel. It was not the road, it mostly the arrival, which made me realize what loneliness is about. Arrival:
-to foreign, unknown place
-in a room, which is not Juli-like, where there isn’t a pillow which is good for something, it was so big, that it could as well been a bed, and if you sleep on it, you will remember it all day long afterwards, for you neck, and back hurts
-you should start to decorate, but everything you have makes you remember another room, not one from Brasov, but one from Budapest. Only that here ’colourfull’ is not as colourfull as there, and ’cheerfull’ is not as cheerfull as there was.
-you would rather sleep, but you then would have nightmares, and they seem very real and very scary, and when you wake up, you are even more scared about not knowing which country are you in. And who could you call at 3.30 am to ask: where am I?
-and I don!t have a phone. And even worse, if I would have, I wouldn’t have who to call.

There is something good among all this, though: I am finally able to cry.

…how can you stay outside? There’s a beautiful mess inside.

And I set up. To get even smarter int he worlds one of the most elit universities, according to my teachers. Another two countries far, according to my family. To a good place, where I will spend awesome time, where I will have lots of fun, where I will feel myself in my environment, because I’ll have opportunity to learn another language, where I will smile a lot, where I will meet my true love (yeah, right, I hope I’ll be wiser than that), where I could travel a lot, so that would also make me happy, according to my friends. Then again, according to those who are jelous (I know there is nobody :) ) they think I’m illegaly lucky. As a matter of fact, I do feel illegally lucky. I live in a city that if got a chance to visit it once, you feel like this is how it would be like in the fairytales. I can see a real castle from my window. If I step out from my house, I cross Heidelbergs most beautiful bridge and I find myself in the most lovely old town you can imagine. If I decidet o take it on the other side of the house, I find myself in another dreamplace. Garden on a hill, trees, lake, birds, I even saw a squarel today in the morning. This is really a place like in fairytales, I should feel like a princess.
Though, the place I set up to is inside. I knew that ont hat very day on the bench in front of the students home, I remembered it a few times this summer, but when I read this just a few km-s away from Heidelberg, I was sure: "I saw clearly, why don't the gods they speak to us openly, and why do not accept our answer. As long as the innermost, deep lurking in the word derives not from us, why would they listen to a lot of tosh, what we think is true? How can we even want to meet face to face, how could we provoke even a single punch, but till we have faces? "(also C. S Lewis, also translation by Julie)

…far, far there was this little girl, she was praying for something good to happen to her. From time to time there were colours and shapes, dazelng her eyes, tickeling her hands, they invent her a new world, with oil skies and aquarel rivers, but don’t you run away already, please don’t go…

if God creates flowers, we should at least sometimes take a chance to pray so we should not remain seeds.

And once again:

… how can you stay outside? There’s a beautiful mess inside? Take a deep breath and dive, there’s a beautiful mess, beautiful mess inside!...

Far, far, there’s this little girl, she was praying for something big to happen to her. Every night she hears beautiful strange music, it’s everywhere, there’s no place to hide. And if it fades, she begs oh, Lord, don’t take it from me, don’t take it, yourselves

… I guess I have to give it birth…

I had a strange dream one of the nights here: I was back again in my mothers womb.

i guess i'll have to give it birth
to give it birth
i guess, i guess, i guess i have to give it birth
i guess i have to, have to give it birth
there's a beautiful mess inside and it's everywhere

so shake it yourself now deep inside
deeper than you ever dared
deeper than you ever dared
there's a beautiful mess inside
beautiful mess inside

IF

if I was over you, I wouldn't be up at 2.17 am writing this,
I wouldn't be crying while doing that,
I wouldn't be asking myself why did I let you in my life, in the first place?
I wouldn't try to find each and every possible "what if..." scenario
I wouldn't remember your name by every piece of falling leaf, dammit!
and I would definitely not stay here and write nice words, while having not nice words to say to you!
I would grab my phone and call you, in the middle of the night, yes and say not nice things to you! About you! About the way I feel about you! About the way I feel about the way you feel about me and about the way I feel about the way you feel about me and still doing the things you do and acting the way you act and just... Yes, but if I could do that it would probably mean I'm over you. But I'm not, just yet.
But IF I was, I would!

travel thrgough...

despre toate sentimentele, durerile, trairile, bataile de inima si zambetele fortate imi doresc sa nu mai scriu, nici sa vorbesc.

...imi doresc sa pot plange despre ele.

frica

something I can't get rid of. Nu ma lasa sa am o clipa de fericire. Ma tine legata. Nu ma lasa sa iubesc, de fapt nu ma lasa sa ma las iubita. Sunt catuse de care nu pot dormi bine si daca ma trezesc imi doresc sa nu ma fi trezit deloc azi.
Da, frica nu m-a lasat sa iubesc ani la rand; frica de a fi odata cu adevarat iubita. Dar de data asta sunt gata sa incetinesc pasii cu care alerg departe de iubire, sa ma opresc din alergat, sa ma intorc si sa incep sa privesc Frica in ochi. Sa-mi spuna ce are cu mine, de ce ma terorizeaza. Si ii voi zice sa faca bine si sa ma lase in pace. Vreau sa iubesc. Stiu sa iubesc.
De data asta nu va trimfa!
Amin

o zi ca oricare alta...

m-am trezit... *greu ca intotdeauna
azi era ziua care incepe cu o slujba de dimineata *in sfarsit
am facut un dus + tot ritualul de dimineata *pe fuga ca intotdeauna
ma imbracam, tocmai legam o funda bluzei mele cand privind in oglinda am recunoscut. M-am recunoscut. Cumva purtam aceeasi bluza si aceiasi pantaloni ca exact acum exact in aceea zi cand ma pregateam sa incep ziua cu o slujba.
MI-am adus aminte... Atunci ma simteam vinovata ca merg sa cant la o slujba un pic mahmura. Parea mahmureala... Cum nu cunosteam starea, banuiam ca era de la acele cateva beri din seara dinainte. Nu stiam ca mahmureala se manifesta si la nivelul burtii, si doare in halul asta, chiar nici nu ma doare capul, doar burta...ciudat. Ma rog, nu stiu, trebuia sa avem tot felul de experiente in viata.
Imi aduc aminte exact ce trebuia sa cant atunci la slujba. Ce frumos a fost!
da, imi aduc aminte ca nu prea am fost in stare sa ma dezbrac singura de hainele alea
peste cateva zile stateam culcata pe un pat de spital asteptand o operatie despre care nu stiam ca va insemna in viata mea, si infruntam (nu singura) tot de ce imi era mai frica. Stiam ca poate nu voi putea fi femeie in sensul adevarat al cuvantului. Stiam ca poate raman cu un gol imens in suflet si in trup si stiam despre mine ca nu voi putea cauta niciodata un barbat stiind ca eu nu pot fi femeie deplina.
Da, ma priveam in oglinda. Sunt frumoasa. Si sanatoasa. Imi stau bine hainele astea. Ca un zambet de la Dumnezeu a venit aceeasi melodie pe care am cantat-o acum un an la slujba :)
Mai traiesc. Si in curand ma voi intalni ca barbatul de care ma indragostesc pe zi ce trece tot mai mult.
Exista vieti care sunt presus de multumiri.
Cum ar fi a mea...