A burnt child dreads fire.
I’m so tired of thinking. So so tired.
Thinking about my childhood, of being rejected, of losing a love in my desperate search to find a home.
I’m looking like a desperate for a lighter, a hope. I just need to light these substances. Maybe the pain will go away.
I’m a burden for my mother, by just making her think. By making a decision to live my life the way I want, a decision that she was too afraid to have, and now it’s devouring her insides.
I don’t even want to complain, to excuse myself or my parents. Truth be told other people have a way harder life and they are still alive, still living.
Am I such a weak person>?
Off why did I decide to write? Just for people to judge me? Just for my therapist to have material to analyse?
When did I become so fucked up? I know when my mind gave up but I have no idea when it started to deteriorate?
I was probably really young.
My thoughts are spinning in my head, god they are so many, I can feel their weight. Pressing on my soul, making my heart shrink.
I start to feel more relieved, it feel so good to write again. I miss me…sometimes I even miss my past life- AND what a joke is that!
I miss the place who fucked me up so much, am I a masochist?
AND I need to change my therapist! Again! GOOOOOD, how many times to I need to say the same story again and again and again until finally someone will give me a solution?
I’m swearing too much..
She’s just walking in the house. I can’t even write about her.
Refer to they as they.
I’m losing my shit. I can’t lose my shit again. Not now, not this year.
I’m getting there.
A trecut aproape un an de la prima postare de pe acest blog. Prima data in saptamani, luni, ani cand am avut speranta, si am privit cerul.
Cand vechea mea viata s-a incheiat, cand am auzit sunetul portilor inchizandu-se in spatele meu nu am stiut daca voi rezista. Sufletul meu era praf, nu aveam ce sa bandajez, nu puteam nici macar sa il tin in maini ca pe un cadavru cand spui ultimul adio.
Dar apoi o minune s-a intamplat. Am adunat tot praful intr-o urna ca cele pentru morti si l-am tinut aproape de mine. Mi-am promis ca orice se va intampla o sa continui sa cred in sufletul meu, si ca daca o sa mor o sa o fac pentru ceea ce am crezut. Si am avut grija de el. L-am udat cu lacrimi, l-am tinut in brate sute de ore paralizata de orice inseamna viata, i-am spus povesti de noapte buna. Ca o pasare Phoenix a inceput sa infloreasca in ceva asa de frumos incat nu l-as putea asemana cu nimic din ce am vazut inainte. Sufletul meu, ranit, rupt in bucatele pana nu a mai fost nimic din el, se vindeca. Si a continuat sa se vindece.
Inca se vindeca.
Nu stiu daca va fi vreodata complet vindecat dar e mai frumos ca niciodata. Curat, pur, divin, zgariat si cu inocenta inrecuperabila, un suflet puternic, curajos, nascut din moarte si durere, un suflet cu multe lectii dure de invatat. Poate nu este ceea ce mi-am imaginat, dar este exact ce am nevoie, ce am avut mereu nevoie.
Il iubesc mai mult decat l-am iubit pe celelalt, mai mult decat am iubit in viata. This is something new and beautiful and I’m gonna take care of it.
You won’t break again, I promise.
I have a bad habit of searching beauty in beasts and forever in temporary moments.
The harsh years turn her into a real figure of glass, unbreakable by others. After all, she’s broken herself so many times that no-one else can. Her tender heart can no deliver that familiar ache of loneliness. It’s been frozen over.
I can’t help but think about how mean we truly are with each other. From the way we reject people, to the comments that we make, to the jokes that we say…something doesn’t feel right.
This life starts to feel superficial.. We stopped sharing our life stories in long conversations until 3 in the morning, our beliefs, our faith and our sins. We pretend so much that we live the perfect life in our Instagram stories that we actually forget to live in the moment.
Maybe the act of making love is the only one that can stop people for a second and make them feel something, a connection, something deeper and closer to how we truly are. Or maybe I’m romanticising sex as everything else lately.
I’m overthinking again
But as time went on my thought process changed.
My interpretation changed.
My vision changed.
Im continually changing.
Growing. Becoming better.
I have learned to see the miracles in the smallest things.
Find beauty in the most lost places. See the light in the darkest of times.
I treasure everything. Life is a gift.
And I am blessed.
Blessed beyond what I ever imagined I could gain in life.
I have become more spiritual rather than religious. Though don’t automatically label me as not believing in God or belonging to a certain faith or practice. What I have evolved into is not something that can fall into one category. Its a collection of beliefs and practices that feels right for me. For my family. For life. And its a ever growing knowledge of what is right for me.I feel so incredibly blessed to have found this level of enlightenment at such a relatively young age. Some people will go their whole lives not knowing this feeling, this way of life.
I am following my own path, not that which others expect me to walk. I am being true to myself. After all, this is my life. No one else’s. And when this life comes to an end I don’t want to have any regrets.