Nu promit nimic dar

Dupa o re-re-citire a blogului in totalitate si multe pareri ale "prietenilor" mei, am ajuns chiar si eu la concluzia ca mi se dezvaluie o tenta foarte depresiva si sinucigasa in acest blog. Adevarul este ca nu stiu sa ma descarc decat in 3 feluri. Plang, merg in capatul gradinii si urlu cat ma tin plamanii sau...scriu in fereastra asta. De aia mi-a fost adus la cunostinta ca ar trebui sa ma concentrez si pe momentele hyper-fericite si sa vorbesc si despre ele, ca merita nu de alta. Dar daca as face asta mereu, ar trebui sa scriu non-stop sau cel putin odata pe zi; asa ma rezum la de doua, trei ori pe luna. Acuma imi iau din lampa si imi dau cu ea in cap ( am de predat lucrarea de diploma in mai putin de o luna; din pacate pentru sira spinarii, incheieturile, pensulele si creierul meu stors la maxim de inspiratie si arta, inca NU m-am apucat de ea si nici macar nu am idee ce o sa fie ) si ma duc sa imi incarc plamanii cu mult ceai negru si nicotina...si stres.

*am feelingul de parca ar umbla 500 de furnici pe mine


My love grows daily by Jeshi

Ganduri de gradu II

Stau si ma gandesc si doare; ma rup, sangerez si continuu in fiecare zi ciclul. Urlu si nimeni nu vine( nici macar eu nu ma aud, nici macar ecoul nu rasuna). M-as plange, dar nu am cui. As plange dar nu mai vrea sa-mi tasneasca apa sarata din ochi. Urasc sa mi se intample asta, sa nu-mi mai curga lacrimile ma refer. Nu stiu de ce. Mi-e greu si-mi pocneste capul. Nu pot sa percep si mi-as dori sa pot gandi unidimensional. Un amalgam cu de toate: suc de mere, ura, tigari, oameni, ploaie, vin rosu de casa. Asta simt, asta simt! Incerc totusi sa ma controlez.

innervoid

Soft weekend shock. she was getting closer to the point of obsolescence traped in chill - reminiscing now the key to solitude, the motif to temporarily absence of her inner desires. she felt trapped in between revolving doors ... changing lanes, changing places, changing people ... images spinning so fast beyond comprehensive ( all the time, like a fast-forwarded movie ). she felt like she was a corridor for passing to smaller dimensions, to immediate needs, to lifeless emotions. nothing to grasp on. just a continuum void( set by you). she tried zealously to incarnate this essence ... the perpetual movement of a small light, burning in the corner of her eye, flickering. the corner she loved was blue, she had seen it again, stayed on soft striped pattern. dissipated thoughts trespassing and burning her flesh like a game of darts. without the central thought the equilibrium is lost. it's voided. the entanglement was proclaiming certain victory over her mind. comfortable enough in this middle to nowhere, she wasn't feeling the need to shatter the glass and to rescue herself. the mediocrity corset suited her mimic for the ideal ( again you ). she was vulnerable indeed to certain feelings commended by the nature of surrounding things. however she didn't feel the immediate need to stop. not now. nor in the near future. she'll continue to set herself up to being a singular?