Drifting

am facut o mare greseala la un moment dat. si desi, de jena, n am publicat articolul respectiv, l -am recitit azi, dupa o lunga pauza. mi-e rusine.

rusine pentru ca tot ce scriam era patimas si patetic, simplu, sec, si eu nu din asta ma compun. am pretentia ca pot scuipa fraze digitale mult mai complexe, mai intortocheate, metafore grele pentru creiere fierbinti si nu lipsite de logica.

as putea sa ma declar indragostita. de fapt, am sa o fac, dar neatragand tot pozitivul din univers si dand vina pe el pentru norocul pe care il am nativ. nu inseamna ca nu sunt capabila de sentimente, ci doar ca analizez mult mai la rece si nu ma zboara vantul emotiilor din craca in craca pana la ziua mea.

e minunat sa fii indragostit, e o mare capcana sa iubesti. caci iubirea vine, totusi, la pachet cu obinuinta, si m am plictisit de banal. am vrut sa stabilesc trenduri saptamanale si patternuri in doi, doar sa mi dau seama ca cedez atat de usor impulsului. si, din vaga mea experienta, asta din urma atarna mai greu.

nu mai pot visa zile intregi cu ochii semi deschisi, pentru ca sunt ocupata. dar pot sa ma bucur sincer de un mesaj scurt si de o ora libera, de o gura de aer si una de vodka. cu atat mai mult de un weekend plin, pana la urmatorul.

caci fix cand m-as lasa purtata de val si as veni cu propuneri indecent de casnice, imi amintesc de varsta 5 la patrat care nu corespunde planurilor din capul meu scaldat in endorfine, ce ma fac uneori sa ma contorsionez mai ceva ca in cirque du soleil.

nu mai alerg decat dupa 85.

ca vine greu. mult mai greu decat ajung eu.

take me back

things were really simple back in the day. weather was warm, hearts were mild, laughter was truthful and love was inspirational. hopes and plans for the future really did make us feel invincible.

what happened to us, to you, to me? one or two discreet wrinkles? four years of college and the stress of a degree? bumping into real life? change of taste in music or drugs or love? or people?

i find myself looking back only to summer days and evenings when i was never ever alone. clothes were scarce, booze was cold, heartbeats were honest and care,... but a footnote.

i really loved you, eric, i really did. you took me as a child, molded me into a half woman, and carelessly and brutally threw me out the window as autumn began.

i remember the plans. simple and logical. you, me, a tiny house and a lot of ambition. our combined set of skills would pay off until out combined set of academic skills were to do their own trick.

it was simple, eric, it really was. you, me, a batch of popcorn, a pint of beer, ocasionally a mic, lube, movies and debating. we saw thing accurately because you made me reach your emotional level. what happened, eric? why or when did you stop seeing or hoping?

i really tried to battle the five stages. i was angry for not doing enough, blaming me for our insuccess. i bargained in vane, because nothing but ghosts of pasts were there to mock me and my tears. i denied your denial of ever wanting, needing or loving me. i wanted to burn that bridge, but then remembered everything. i accepted, reluctantly nonetheless, your choice. i fell into a deep schizoid-like depression, with haunting images of love-past into my memory.

i hoped for jokes, i hoped for the 'maybe it's too early for us, he surely knows what he is doing' scenario, only to see that this kind of attitude should not come from he, the one comforting and loving you day in, day out.

i hoped, eric, when i was in love with you. i loved you with every tiny bit of my new found soul. i stripped bare naked in front of you, i paraded my affection and my needs as honestly and as sincere as i could, only to be pushed back into nothingness. i offered, eric, and all of that was blown away mercilessly and definitely.

it hurts, eric, you know it does. i cannot comprehend in my tiny mind why would you chose to believe the world around you, a bunch of hazy double-meaning words, instead of gestures or living proofs.

and you know what, eric? it hurts even thinking that my emotional investment, by comparison, was forever times greater than yours, who chose to simply walk away at the first sign of not-even-real danger.

it's time to put the pieces back together. it's time to glue everything back again. i'm in pain. physicall and emotional. i'm out of time. or so i feel.

i am confused.

one moment i would give anything to talk to you, to smile, to assure you that the Giants will win this year's cup, to hold your fingers tight and kiss the hands that made me feel like a goddess.

the other i want nothing more than to erase you completely, walk by you in hazardous hallways, smiling in a flirty manner at you, not knowing the tragic capacity of yours of pushing away people that want to be near.

i did not try to save you, eric. i let you be.

and that, my dear, was the ultimate sign that i loved you. that i trusted you.

and, by god, not enough.