If I admit to myself that I still love her, will my subconscious leave me alone? She was the best thing that happened to me and I let her believe I walked out on her. She gave music and colours and rainbows and tea. I still remember the way she smells, how incredibly beautiful she looks when she smiles, how delicate her hands are. There were so many songs and photos I wanted to send to her, without knowing who sent them. There were so many e-mails I wanted to write to her, so many conversations I had with her in my imaginary world. So many things that I’ll never say and she’ll never know. I’m trying hard to convince myself that this is for the best, that if this happened is only for a reason. But when I wake up in tears cause I dreamed of her, well, I don’t know what that reason could possibly be. If it’s so goddamned easy to get over boyfriends, why is it so goddamned hard to get over her?

To start your day with a panic attack at 5 in the morning is not that great. Of course, I can’t blame anyone for my EP *existential problems*, but I wish they wouldn’t occur in the most inopportune of moments.

I have a rich imaginary life. I’m always happy there, things are just the way I want them to be. I don’t have a single care in the world. But I’m scared shitless when it comes to confront my imaginary world with the real life. What if things won’t be that great? What if I don’t like it? What if it’s not at all how I expected it to be?

It happened quite a lot of times for things to be in my mind and in my mind only. And boy was it horrible when I realised that! Now I’d like not to mix the two of them again. I’ll stick to the daydreaming part, without expecting for the dreams to come true. *Ha, like they ever could!* It’s painless and tearless that way. Taking the easy way out? Definitely.

I find it stupid that I need an off-line journal because I can’t write everything here anymore. Yes, I can express my anger, my frustrations, my joys and what uRMa does, where I’m going and what I’m doing, but not what I’m actually feeling. Can’t talk about my crushes, can’t bitch about my flat-mate, can’t be myself.

I hate to always hide behind phrases that only I understand, to mask my feeling with neutral words. And no, goddamn it, I won’t put a password on it. I’ve met way too many nice people cause of this blog to make it a private one.

It was so easy to write things down, get them off my mind, and then just hit “Publish”. Now I’m always thinking: “Are they going to read this? Cause if they are, I can’t write about it anymore.” Bleah.

It’s not fair. It really isn’t.

Zen, baby, zen.

I’ve just found out that today is Thursday and not Wednesday I feel like I’ve been cheated. I want my day back.

…as avea parul cret si roscat, as avea pistrui pe nas si nu pe umeri. As locui intr-o casa veche, cu pereti inalti si ferestre inguste. Ar ninge cu bucati mici de tencuiala si robinetul de la baie ar picura mereu. As purta chiar si slapi atunci cand m-as duce la magazinul din colt sa imi cumpar legume pentru mesele sanatoase pe care mi le-as prepara zilnic. Nu as fi mioapa si as avea ochi verzi, maini frumoase si as fi cu un cap mai scunda decat sunt acum. Conversi as purta doar rar, de cele mai multe ori as umbla in picioarele goale, tarandu-mi fusta colorata pe asfalt. Mi-as face eu toate zorzoanele si as picta in secret. As avea o pisica grasa si lenesa, care m-ar ignora complet. Nu as mai avea fobie de vorbit la telefon si as rade cu prietenele mele in timp ce am sta cu picioarele ridicate pe pereti si am manca struguri dulci. As merge doar cu bicicleta sau pe jos si mi-as lua paturica si as citi singura in parc. Castile de la iPod ar functiona inca si as fredona mereu piese obscure. Nu as mai fi atat de naiva si visatoare, ci as zambi mai mult si as fi mai sociabila. As avea un jurnal cu coperte colorate, plin de desene si poze, in care as scrie ordonat, cu litere mari, despre oamenii frumosi pe care i-as intalni zilnic. As avea dinti albi si o geanta mare, cu un curcubeu pe ea, in care mi-ar incapea toate cartile. Si as fi mai fericita.

I fell in love with a translator. The feeling died the minute he walked out of the bookfair.

It’s been ten million years…

Today it smelled of newly washed clothes.

Unplanned sleepovers are the best!

My hands smelled like oranges again.

Nightmare after nightmare after nightmare.

Dreamlike creatures follow me intro reality.

The tired I am, the less I sleep.

The Beast is really antisocial, but not with me.

Blame the angels and the clowns.

I’m glad we didn’t meet yesterday. I wouldn’t have known what to say to you.

You’re a wrong conclusion.

My book-buying obsession is a very expensive one.

Nothing’s unexpected
Yesterday is the same.
Nothing comes as expected
Tomorrow’s changing.

Distort my feelings if you don’t mind.

I fell out of love with myself.

It’s not funny at all to have a taste of your own medicine.

“Dudette, snap out of it! It’s harder for you to get over her than it was with your lovers. And you’re not even a lesbian. Which makes this even sadder.” I know, dear friend, I know. But.It’s.Still.There.And.It.Hurts.Way.Too.Much.Ans.I.Can’t.Stop.It.

I’ve decided not to take the bus to the metro station anymore. This means I’ll walk. I still can’t believe I’m doing this. I am going to *actually* WALK for about 40 minutes/day! Wow!

I’ve been wanting to write back to him since like ever, but I just don’t know what to tell him. Yes, I’m OK. Sort of. Yes, the cat is fine. No, I can’t drink tea anymore. I don’t know if I miss him. Yes, I’m glad he travels all over the world. Yes, I’m happy he’s have a great time. I just… I don’t know… I don’t know.

I’m going to Athens, on my own, at the end of July.

I feel like I forgot to do something today, but I have no idea what.

Anyone is just not good enough for me.

I miss wasting my nights with trivial stuff.

There are so many things that I bloody miss. That I bloody want. That I bloody hate. That I bloody wanna change. AAAA!!!!