vineri, 16 martie 2018

Dear future friend,

Dear future friend,

I know at first I’ll come off as cold and ignorant. That for months in a row I won’t say much than “Hi! How are you?”. I know you’ll think that maybe I can’t stand you because I never seem too excited to talk and I barely manage to mutter a few words.  I know you’ll think that you repulse me because I pull away, in fear, at any physical contact. I know you’ll say that I’m insensitive and mean on the rare occasions when I’ll speak my thoughts out. I know I’ll sound like a total idiot because I’ll keep stutter, confuse words or say things that makes no sense.  I know I’m hard to deal with it …
But I also know that if you stick up by my side for long enough (which, I’m not gonna lie to you, it would take more than a year), I might let you in. I know that then I’ll care about you more than I care for myself, that I’ll patiently listen to what you have to say, that I’ll help you in any way I can. I know I’ll smile when I’ll see you and I’ll run to hug you and then I won’t want to let go. I know I’ll talk for hours about all the random things that goes through my mind until you’ll probably wish that I’ll shut up. My voice would get lounder as my excitement grows and I’ll finally stop worrying about what the people around me will think. I’ll finally feel free to be myself. I would do embarrassing dances in public, I’ll sing with you or I’ll let you take photos of me doing the most ridiculous poses.
But, forgive me from now, I won’t do a great job at comforting you, I won’t be a good shoulder for you to cry on, I won’t be able to give you amazing advices, yet I’ll try my best to make you laugh. I’ll make a fool out of myself just to see you smile. I’ll make stupid jokes that will offend you so please don’t take them seriously, I’ll make even more about myself. I know I’ll have days when I’ll disappear and days when I’ll be so clingy that you won’t be able to get rid of me. I know I’ll hurt you and you’ll hurt me too. I know I’ll overthink things and I’ll annoy you everytime I forget how to think rationally. I know I’ll probably never be able to say to your face how much you mean to me but, I promise, I’ll write about you everytime I’ll get the chance and ,perhaps, someday you’ll  get to read that. And, in that moment, I want you to know that that is the best way I can express my feelings towards you.
I hate most people but maybe I’ll like you.  So … I don’t know if it’s too much to ask but could you give me some time to open up in front of you?

This is for Irina. Thanks for being patient with me, for allowing me to be myself with you and for staying by my side even when I’m falling apart.

marți, 13 martie 2018

I can't f***kin cook

On today’s episode of  “I can’t fuckin’ cook”, I tried to cook a pizza. *audience yelling about how I’ll never get married and I’ll die out of starvation*

The recipe is simple, all you need is: bread, ketchup, sliced cheese, salami ,*flashback of me saying that I’m gonna eat healthier* tomatoes,mushrooms, one egg, one barrel of patience and one of pure talent because you need that one in order to screw up even a pizza.

Step 1: Slice everything except your fingers.
Step 2: Spread ketchup on the bread but be extra careful to don’t do it evenly, alternate between the slices, one with just a hint, the other soacked. Bonus points:  Squeeze half of the ketchup in the tray instead.
Step 3: Pre-heat your oven in order to get your pizza ready for the flames of hell.
Step 4: Throw everything you have, including your motivation to live, on the bread. Put the egg on top. Use a spoon to pick up the egg and put it back on place multiple times because it slides off the pizza the same way my self-esteem runs down the drain.
Step 5: Put it in the oven and stare at it for 10 minutes.
Step 6: *runs out of patience*  Time to turn up the heat!!!

Step 7: Get distracted by your phone.
Step 8: Realise your pizza burned out more than your dreams.
Step 9: Have a mental breakdown.
Step 10: Try not to cry.
Step 11: Ain’t nobody got time to cry when is hungry.
Step 12: Take the burned parts out. Proceed to also burn the top of your mouth because got-no-damn-patience-man.

*TV spot: someone handing me a Snicker because I turn into an idiot when I’m hungry*

Review: It was eatable and it tasted surprisingly good. It was the first and the last time I’m gonna put an egg on a pizza, sorry, I don’t get it. I’ll give it 2 starts because it had a slightly taste of depression and anxiety.

And for the big reveal, this is my beautiful creation:

Now, please, don’t go all Gordon Ramsay on me. If the pizza won’t kill me, the embarrassment will.

luni, 12 martie 2018

The story of a brain

Once upon a time, there was a brain, different from any others, that was living in a box inside someone’s head. With countless previous owners, used and then abandoned all over again, he was left with bruises that seem to never fade. Embarassed of what the other brains would say, he would try to hide them by acting just the same. But he wasn’t like the others, he knew it too well that his hemispheres would rather throw a party without any guests. So he lock himself in boxes, away from all his fears, until there were nothing left of his life other than , what he despised the most, those fears.
There were days when he would peek outside or days when he would try his best to jump as high as he can, hoping he could make it over the edge, but on most days he would realise that he is meant to remain forever on the bottom of the box. Left in confusion, his synapses got caught somewhere between being afraid of death, but still wanting to die. At times he thought it would be better to end it itself, instead of just waiting for a stroke to put him to end, he could so easily break a blood vessel and then he would just drown, but he wasn’t able to do that to the body that took him inside. Being honest, he didn’t want to leave at all, delusionally expecting that this would be his permanent spinal cord.
He knew he wasn’t enough. No matter what the other organs would say, all that reassurance was going nowhere : “ Don’t be ridiculous! What would a body be without a brain?! ” Yet, the eyes have told him just how many times the body that he thought was his, was admiring other brains. They were faster, smarter, happier and, of course, without a box; they were everything he wasn’t and would never be. But what could he do? Him, a simple brain, had nothing better to offer.
Screaming in agony as his neurons would keep betraying him relasing the wrong chemicals, thinking over and over again, that he’d prefer being dead, rather than stuck in this hell. What he had anyway? A life not worth living in a temporary home.
The panic took over him, wondering how much time he had left until he will be on his own again, with nothing to protect him other than those cardboard walls. Happy endings were not for him, it didn’t matter, he couldn’t remember how happiness felt like anyway, so he just waited in misery for the day when the body simply told him that he got another brain

Author’s notes: During a night, while trying to figure out my emotions, I decided to put myself into my brain’s shoes, describing the things that he has to deal with ( such as introvertism, anxiety, depression abandonment and attachment issues,) in a metaphorical way. I’d like to apologise in advance if I made any fundamental mistakes when it comes to biology and grammar.

sâmbătă, 24 februarie 2018


I might make an attempt at dissimulation sometimes, I can paint myself in the colors that I want you to see, I can twist and shift my personality to any degree or I might just be honest, but it still wouldn’t be me. Who I really am when I am seen from so many angles? With so many eyes on me and the unlimited perspectives, could I ever say “this is me”, without ever lying? Who am I if everytime I’m someone else in everyone’s mind?

If I look in the mirror, I don’t recognize myself, I don’t own this body, yet he owns my mind. He’s the one being judged, he’s the one defining me. In a world where people make their opinions based on appearances, how could I dare to say that I’m more than my material self? I’m more than just flesh and blood but there’s nothing else that you would like to see.

I’m collecting tags from people, like I’m a product on display. “Ugly”, “arrogant”, “you keep reading those books but you are still dumb”, “she’s getting better in time, just like wine”, that’s just a few of them. Am I really any of these? And then I started to pretend, to play a role that I only knew I had. I invited them to label me. So I became “mean”, “nerd”, “stay away from her, she only wants your money”. But behind the curtains, I was the mean one for being honest and realistic, for standing for myself and telling ‘no’ to people who wanted to use me. I was the nerd for reading books when we had long breaks, for having a teacher support my writings. I was the mean nerd that wouldn’t let her bullies copy her homework and I still wonder how in this world can you insult someone every day and still expect them to help you. I was the gold digger because I wanted a career that would bring me plenty of money so I can travel around the world and yes, I like money, who doesn’t? Yet, that doesn’t mean that’s the only reason I would be with someone. And each of those... I am the only one who knows them, while they carry all of those deformed versions of me around with them.

There’s so many of me that I even get confused, so many different ways that I act with certain people, so many pictures of me inside their head that I’ll never get to see. From the friend that it’s very religious with who I have to act accordingly to my friends that told me after an year that they never expected me to be this funny or that they thought at first that I was the most materialistic human being on earth until they figured out I was only putting a masquerade. From my offending and dark jokes to expressing that I care by being clingy or jealous. From acting like I would murder someone without any remorse to still regretting the day I voluntary stept on a snail out of curiosity when I was seven. From crying for weeks every time my so called friends abandoned me to not being able to cry at my grandmother funeral.

Those are all pieces of me and there are so much more. I keep putting on masks and only show a side of myself at time but perhaps someday someone will stay long enough by my side to find out what’s really behind the curtains, until then the show must go on.

In the end, I can’t point at something and say that this is who I am, because there’s a “me” in each one of you now and I’ll never know which of them is my true self and you won’t know either. I let you see only what I wanted you to see, therefore all of this might be a bluff.

 I’m a pretender, we all are.

Also I wanted to share with you a quote that is and remained my favourite for six years, I can’t find the name of the author so if any of you know it, please tell me.
“Everyone is a liar - one way or another- to one degree or another. No one can tell the truth about themselves, it is quite impossible.”


vineri, 29 decembrie 2017

Still bleeding

I never understood why you really left because you didn't feel like explaining your actions. I guess I gave you enough reasons... Was it easy for you to make that decision? Did you spend days thinking if that's the best thing to do or you knew for sure that you have to get rid of me so that you can be happy? I'm sorry if I ever pulled you down.

I don't care about you anymore. I don't care if you are alive or dead. You don't cross my mind like you used to. This was the first year that I forgot about your birthday .... it's been 4 years since you left. But there are night like this when I regret telling people about you, about how bad I got hurted by your leaving, because they somehow manage to open my wounds everytime.

I don't miss you, I don't want you back. There's nothing left of what I knew of you anyway. But it still hurts. Even after all this time I couldn't put back the pieces that you broke and I have to live with the constant feeling of hating myself. I'm sorry, I can't act like a grown up and wish you to be happy, I hope someone will screw you up just like you've done to me and spend years trying to fix yourself without knowing exactly what's wrong.

I'm mad at myself for getting back to you again and again when I had so many opportunities to leave. I wish someone could tell me when it's the right moment to let go of someone, but not in the way you did... After 5 years of talking that's all that I deserved? No explanation whatsoever. I guess that much our friendship meant to you. I've never been someone important into your life, I'm glad you got rid of me.

luni, 11 decembrie 2017


Let me bite your pain until I drown in sorrow.
Let me stain my hands with all of your sins.
Let me stare in your eyes so I can see the reflection off the devil that stands in front of you.

Let me stroke your hair until all of your nightmares leaves your mind.
Let me get to your core and let you empty inside.
Let me touch your skin so I can mark you as mine.
Let me take down your walls and be the one that owns you.

Let me hold your hands so you won’t ever run.
Let me tie you in affection and cover you in love until your broken pieces stick back together.
Let me kiss you and take all of your freedom.

Let me meet your demons so I can give them my soul instead.
Let me breath your fear until my lungs colapse.
Let me give you my heart so I could play with your mind.

Let me paint you a smile with my own happiness.
Let me lick your wounds with my venomous tongue.
Let me hold you closer until you’ll die in my arms.

Let me make you mine
---- for the last time.

joi, 7 decembrie 2017

Când viața o ia pe arătură

Nu știu ce fac cu viața mea . (gasping in the background) Da, știu, asta scriu de fiecare dată și încă nu am aflat răspunsul. E ultimul an de facultate iar eu încă nu m-am apucat de recapitulat sau să îmi scriu licența. Asta este clar unul dintre lucrurile pe care ar trebui să le fac cu viața mea dar pe care, evident, nu îl fac.

Cum este viața mea în ultima vreme? Ma simt epuizată psihic și fizic. Să fii mamă la atâtea pisici este o durere de cap constantă iar dacă mă duc la facultate sunt șanse de 99% să nu mai fac nimic pentru tot restul zilei pentru că sunt prea obosită și totuși nici nu pot să dorm așa că frec menta pe telefon sau mă apuc să scriu (precum astăzi). Oh da…. Și aparent am o aproape relație cu un tip din India și nu știu ce este în capul meu dar s-ar putea să sufăr de vreo formă de retard mental. Adică serios, pe ce planeta o să meargă această relație?! Poate doar dacă ne mutăm pe Marte înainte să mor. Vrea cineva să îmi tragă o palmă peste față și să-mi spună “fă, vino-ți-n fire? Acum, cât vă rog.

Și apropo, duminica viitoare este ziua mea de naștere. Deja simt cum îmi curge depresia prin vene.