nopti in mintea mea

today I fucked yet another laptop, while the first one is still in repair;  so I got the third one out of the closet (yes, we have a closet full of old stuff, for days like this). I opened it and the display revealed a picture of Barcares beach. I took it on the day I called you and the feeling I had that day hit me breathless.

That day I decided to go out and get you. I decided nothing else mattered, we had to be together, we were ment to be. I was so high. Totally crazy.

It’s funny with the old computers. There’re pretty much a testimonial of the life you had when you were using them, a life that stops at some point, and then you go back and check it with such surprise and sadness. All those hours gone from our memory. 

This is the computer I used in the days I was in love with you.  Today I miss it, but I just can’t seem to be able to bring it back. That day, on the beach, I was so sure that we cand just… reach one another. But we were too far apart. It was just late.

It’s not like I ever cried or anything, the time I had to let the dream go. I never even noticed it, actually. I just… grew out of it, but finally it was not a good thing.  

Perharps I can’t be pleased. We are condemned to be the witnesses of our dreams being born only to see them die.

Picture you and me standing in front of each other in a room. Alone. The room is locked. Who would you be.

Would you lean over a wall with a slick smile waiting for me to come or

would you lean over a wall shaking and waiting to see if I come

and if I came, would you close your eyes or would you look into my eyes like you always do, searching for something

would you put your hand on my throat to feel my heartbeat like an animal, like the animal you are

would you squeeze would you make me feel

you’re going to kill me

or not

maybe you’d throw yourself at me and push me against a wall and your first kiss would hurt me

teeth and flesh and tongue waiting for so long there’s no time for pleasure anymore

or maybe not, maybe you would seduce me. Kiss me long kisses, breath on my neck, a tip of a finger brushing my breast

you’d make me beg and I’d try to unzip you jeans and you’d stop me and play with me

and then I’d get angry and call you names and tell you I hate you for making me wait for so long and I’d hurt you, I would, I swear I would

or maybe we’ll both shake like teenagers, and start crying, and sweat and stomach ache.

I can’t picture it. Who would you be? I don’t understand WHY I can’t know.

Da. Mă uit la șanțurile de lângă ochi care se cască de la o zi la alta mai mult, nu mă uit așa îngrozită, nu ma înțelege greșit, constat, le văd, mă gândesc că ar trebui să-mi fac măcar săptămânal o mască, ar trebui să mă duc la cosmetică dar n-o să fac n-o să mă duc. Dacă aș putea să-ti vorbesc ți-aș spune „Hei, hei, îmbătrânesc!! Ce faci?”

Nu-mi amintesc cu adevărat timpul în care am fost frumoasă. Stiu că am fost, dar eu nu-mi amintesc, n-am văzut, n-am observat.

Nimic exceptional. Nimic deosebit. Totu-i bine. Am de toate. Imbătrânesc lânga un om care mă iubește. Nu bea, nu fute, vine cu toti banii acasă. Totu-i cum trebuie să fie într-o viață care trece ca și când n-ar fi.

Citesc ce am scris și-mi dau seama ca nu sunt decat o altă nevastă frustrată aproape de midlife chrysis care visează la calul pe prinț alb. Un cal bețiv, nevrotic care nu vrea să mă fută.

Come back dream, my soul feels so empty not chasing you!

you shatter me your grip on me a hold on me
so dull it kills you stifle me infectious sense of
hopelessness and prayers for rain i suffocate i
breathe in dirt and nowhere shines but desolate
and drab the hours all spent on killing time
again all waiting for the rain

you fracture me your hands on me a touch so
plain so stale it kills you strangle me entangle
me in hopelessness and prayers for rain i
deteriorate i live in dirt and nowhere glows but
drearily and tired the hours all spent on killing
time again all waiting for the rain

It’s almost full moon.

I was wondering lately about the decisions I made. Like to end up with „the blonde age”. Like firing the nanny, like moving out from Bucharest, like deciding to get in touch with you.  And most of all of how peaceful I was all the time, in spite of all complications.

When I filed for a divorce I killed the married me. I had to. I obviously don’t know how to live with any old versions of me, I have to kill them. Maybe it’s the only dramaqueenism in me (is that even a word?). Peaceful me, silent me, killer me.

But now I believe that I’m done grieving for my marriage. And I believe I used you in this personal process… you, beautiful you. You were the only one who could have saved me, really was the first time in my life when I needed this but finally, as I already knew, I must save myself. But all this while I had to spend the last shread of humanity, and love, and affection on someone. I could have been fuckin’ George Clooney. You’re just as as far, just as impossible. 

Now I’m just waiting. Sometimes I breathe in air and breathe out life. I can feel it spill out of my mouth. And it feels right, listen, I promise we’ll be alright.