Joie de vivre

How far do you have to go, how many tears do you have to shed, how much do you have to let go of, how many messed up days do you have to survive, how far do you have to go                          to realise that it's not worth it?  Maybe life is not for everyone.

The sheer beauty of life can't be truly captured in a picture;                                        a genuine and hard laughter,                the moonlight on your lover's skin,                         the majesty of the sea,                                                  the hot sand beneath your feet,                                                                                          the first sea bath of the year,             the relief after submitting a long and difficult assignment,                                             the chills on your spine when he holds your hand for the first time,                                the high feeling after you accomplished all the tasks for the day,                                                                                      the goosebumps of happiness when he inches closer ~

"The feelings I have had for him, so strong. He inspired me for all sort of deep, lovely, touching texts. I have invested a lot of energy and soul in that 'relationship' between us, which wasn't actually a relationship, and will never be. However, I hate him now. I hate him with all the love and care I had for him. He promised me nice walks and long talks, but ironically we stopped talking to each other right after. I don't know why. I don't even know if this is of interest for me. The thing is, now I'm like a hedgehog with all the ones around me. I think a lot about him, but not with the same thoughts. It's different. I want to slap him hardly , I don't want to have any further contact with him, ever. I want all the bad in the world to converge on him. " Originally written: Jul 2015

"Why do I wholeheartedly want us to talk, but I can't text him? Why do I breathlessly wait for a message, but when I receive it I postpone, I avoid reading it, moreover I 'm afraid to ? Why do I want closeness, but when he gets closer I make a huge fool of myself hoping that this will push him away ? What do I even hope, in fact? That he w ould come and stay and that he w ould not get close and that he likes me and that he won 't... An unlucky will be the victim of this inner violent storm of mine. I hope I'll be the karma, otherwise I'll feel guilty." Originally written: Feb 2016

"I was reading some previous diary entries about him and my conversations with him. And now I'm thinking: how much of what I was telling him was true? I remember that I liked to play with the words and to write him texts; I remember that, deep inside, I was annoyed by his little obsessions, obsessions that I was claiming I love. And I remember that I liked to strike his chords. But with every message I realized I impressed him, something was gradually dying inside of me: my interest. Yes, my interest for him was fading away. He wasn't mysterious at all, he was always telling me everything I wanted to know. I proved myself that this is not the nice way. The worse part was that he had the same expectations from me. Say what?!  I don't like to put myself on a tray in front of you, because you'd run away. The proof? My emotional issues. I let them manifest in front of him, and he cowardly disappeared, leaving me a...text message." Originally written:

"There are those moments when you feel you lost everything; that 'everything' meaning the last little shard of hope that was located at the bottom of your heart. That last flake of the wonderful image you once had brightening up your soul. You feel you lost it. You know you lost it. However, you don't break down and cry anymore. You don't hit your pillow or scream or crumble stuff anymore. You don't curl up under a blanket and contemplate your terrible life anymore.  But you keep your bunch of aggressive negative thoughts under fierce control. You just acknowledge what just happened. You breathe deeply and shut the series of racing thoughts up. You only think what good, great thing this disaster will send you. You may shed a tear or two, but not more; and then get over it, in that second, and forever . This is when you know that all the battles you fought and will fight in the future have a purpose: they build the enduring, resourceful, resilient charact

"I am tired. My whole self hurts. My thoughts are racing, creating scenarios, and I can't focus at all, on anything. I am lost in front of their power. I try to fight; but then I think it's pointless. Why should I fight? I cried so much in the past period. I'm exhausted. I want to escape.  The only consolation is that it could be worse, and that this 'worse' chose to not happen to me. Yet.  Hopefully, it never will." Originally written: Apr 2016

"I see myself boring and uninteresting. I feel I could never attract someone's attention from this point of view; someone who is lively, voluble, with the gift of conversation and communication. I feel I can't attract them. Maybe it's my introversion's defense weapon, I can't deny, but I'd love, at least for a little while, to enjoy the companionship of some childish, yet fascinating people. To learn how to live more carelessly and how to not take everything so seriously anymore; to be more relaxed and more fun, for my life should have a bit more color." Originally written: Feb 2016

"I feel low. In energy and in mood . I feel downcast... I don't know how to describe the sensation. It's like a cruel indifference towards everything around me. I want to hug someone. To love and to be loved back, with the same intensity ; so I'll be able to rediscover the beauty of life , to be ali ve again . " Originally written: Jul 2015

"At this moment, I dropped everything I was doing in order to write this. Too many unexpressed feelings packed up inside me, and now they simply want to explode on this piece of content. I need a reason to breathe and to joyfully get out of my bed. I need a motivation to do things; a person to be happy with and about. I want to think about someone real, and to have my day instantly brightened up, without fearing that that person will trample over myself and my feelings and emotions. I want to be awesome enough to be loved. I wish I could genuinely connect with someone, and find ourselves together. I want us to live the adventure of our lives. My introversion is quite an obstacle in making new connections, though; or it is merely the placebo effect. I want to feel understood b y someone with whom I could spend my life with. But I'm so not sure about anything anymore... Who would fall for this emotional, unsure, unsociable side of me, tho'?" Originally w

"I feel a terrible need of affection; of love and closeness. I desperately need someone to prove me that I'm an important part in their life; I can't breathe. You know how a horrendous emptiness feeling feels like? Well, I feel like I'm that emptiness. I can't merely say that I only have a few empty places in myself, because it means too little. I crave closeness and affection. I want to be pampered, to be put on the first place, to be taken care of, to have my tears swept by a loving and caring hand. I crave something to fill my emptiness. I want someone to hug, someone to cuddle with, someone to talk to and to be silly around, without the fear of them leaving; someone who won't judge or ironically laugh at me. Someone who would patiently help me become the best version of myself." Originally written: Sep 2015 However, these feelings are back from time to time . 

"Anxiety level max! Critical overloading!!! In the past few days, I fell in the pit of anxiety and self-doubt. Again. Only the thought that I have to get up and put my feet on the ground so I can begin a new day makes me cry and feel a sudden, horrendous emptiness in myself; the same emptiness you feel when you are deeply scared by some material, concrete thing. What I am afraid of, I have no idea. But I simply can ' t take a responsibility or bring a task to an end with all my heart because...I fear something.  I'm ashamed to even cycle through the city ; or to look people in the eyes, even the ones who know me already. I'm afraid to get out of my place , to liter ally show my face. I'm severely afraid of judgement, and every l i ttle thing that people say, every tiny trace of negative criticism or commentary hurts me to my deepest depth. I' m trying to figure out my life . I thought I managed this already, but in fact all I have done is denying th

"I was saying that, if I will ask him those questions, I will gently and determinedly leave, without any trace of regret. By reading, analyzing, and talking to him this summer, four years since those happened, I am perfectly sure that I am healed and that I do not hope anymore, for anything. And he convinced me, indirectly, that nothing will happen anyway; maybe just the memories and the indestructible relation between us. And no, we haven't talked about this. Sometimes , there is no need for words. I am ready. I am here with fresh energy. Relationship-wise, I am ready: he is not running around in my mind anymore, he is no more a reference point for future relationships. I am healed. Finally. Four years..." Originally written: Sep 201 5

"I'm still thinking about him. There are 3 and a half years since what happened, but still he's the one taking the most space in my mind and in my heart. And once he told me "I hope I'm not taking much space" . H eh. I'm wondering why. Why is he still there. I tried to forget him. God, how much I tried... I am simply not able to forget what has happened and what have I felt. How deep and how turbulent. And, more than anything, how warm and cozy. And how infinite... I don't even want to ask him what he now believes about back then, what he recalls, if it actually meant something to him. I'm afraid I will hate him. I'm waiting for a hint that might help me understand what's going on, because I feel like I don't want to forget. A story. A song. A line. Or someone like me... It happened to me to be attracted by others . But as long as he was there, and even months after, I couldn't get close to anyone else. He, it's l

"[...] And three little gestures that made my day collapse, and another one that made it back completely. Or that's what I hope. I hope I don't deceive myself again. I don't want to write about them, though. I only want to highlight that if I don't stop exaggerating things, I will probably not survive. But this is simply a part of my personality that it seems impossible to change. The advantage is that I'm easy to please; there are those little gestures that you're not even aware of, that matter the most and that make me the happiest. It's proven: the little gestures show you the sheer feelings of that person. But can you even imagine how it feels when you realize that that 'special' person doesn't give a damn about you, when they actually say they do? In a way, this is a quality, so you know who that person actually is. On the other hand, it's the most painful shortcoming. A single sentence, even a single word, a tiny gesture,

Have you ever had those songs in your playlists that throw you in melancholy and dreaminess whenever you listen to them? It's the same kind of 'empty' feeling you experience when you listen to a song from your early teens, for instance; however, in this case you know what it reminds you of: the blanket forts, evenings with your best friend, your first love. And this is not the type of melody I'm talking about. With these songs...it's like they throw you somewhere; somewhere in the past, in no known space or time, in a past you don't know when it happened, or IF it did. They remind you of something you're not sure exists, they make you return to some place you don't know where it lies, or if it's even there. They make that usual emptiness even emptier by making your soul long for...that something. And the more you listen to them, the longer a distance they build between you, the listener, and your object of contemplation. It's weird, and fasci

Ne dorim sa ne putem alinia "lumii civilizate". N e intrebam de ce ne construim o imagine proasta in fata Europei. Exemplul depre care voi scrie este unul mic; mic, dar care m-a intristat si care este aplicat, totusi, si la alte niveluri. De cand m-am mutat in Olanda, nu am avut nicio interactiune cu televiziunea romana; nu ca mi-ar displacea, dar nu sunt fana televizorului in general. In seara asta, brusc, mi-am amintit de Selectia Nationala; in viziunea mea, un show destul de important, avand in vedere ca si el participa oarecum la construirea unei imagini a Romaniei in Europa. Intr-adevar, producatorii nu dau doi bani pe SN, pe ESC in general, pe constructia unui show adevarat, demn de integrarea in economia experientei de astazi. Zicem ca Romania se poate schimba daca exista suficient de multi care sa vrea si sa actioneze in directia asta. Dar atunci cand din juriu fac parte oameni care nu stiu sa vada dincolo de aparente, care se pierd in stereotipuri si cad victima gand

'What keeps you up at night?' 'The thought of him ignoring my unsent messages.'  Source unknown   

Spuneam eu acum ap roape doi ani ca nu-mi voi schimba culoarea curand. "Curand" e foarte relativ, asa ca abia de trecusera vreo 8 luni de cand am marturisit ca-mi iubesc culoarea si cam 6 luni de cand mi-am zis ca nu mai pun vopsea in par, cand o cutie de la Syoss mi-a atras atentia intr-un supermarket: Source: http://www.syoss.ro/syoss/ro/ro/home/vopsirea_parului/color/saten0/saten_aluna.html In teorie, saten-aluna.  In practica: Ce? Saten? Nu vad :(. Am asteptat o luna, si iar la supermarket: Source: http://www.syoss.ro/syoss/ro/ro/home/vopsirea_parului/color/saten0/saten_deschis.html Si, cum socoteala de acasa nu se potriveste cu cea din targ (sau, in cazul de fata, ce e pe cutie/Internet nu se potriveste cu realitatea), a iesit asta (uitati-va pe lungime & varfuri): Daca ala e saten deschis, inseamna ca am ochi albastri. In plus, reflexiile roscate sunt inca acolo... Imi spunea cineva odata ca roscatul e cea mai pacatoa

His smile...is still here. It's haunting me. It's everywhere. In every photo and in every memory. In every corner of my mind and of my sight. In my every move towards getting over him. ...and I was wondering why it takes so long for some people to get over someone they loved.  But I didn't even love you. You can't love someone after only one encounter, can you? "I will remember [...] how we gave each other what was left of us,  and [...] the feel of you, your smile, and the warmth of you  who made me laugh again."

On her wall, a post-it reminds:  "Get out of bed".  But sometimes, her disease makes her blind . 

It was a gloomy, overcast, usual winter day. I let my mind wander, as I often do when I have assignments to complete. Staring out my room's window. A song I used to listen to back in Romania came on the playlist; then another one and another one. Those types of songs that are filled up with memories, and that send you back in the past. A familiar smell came from the freshly brewed tea, which threw me in the same past. I noticed I stay in the same position in my desk chair, with the palms between my thighs, as I usually stayed when I had homework to do, back then. Everything was linked to the past, and everything was meant to trigger homesickness. But they didn't. I felt emptiness in my stomach. But it was good. As all my senses were aroused and sharpened. P ast memories came back to life, past feelings, past thoughts...all the stimuli threw me completely back there; it's not the first time.  But it is the first time when I'm happy I recall them. It's th

This year has been one of MY years. 5 and 15 are those numbers that apparently brought me luck since I can remember, you know those superstitions. I don't remember what happened in 2005 (might ask my Grandma for this :D), but I will certainly remember all my life what happened in the freaking 2015, the best year of my life up to this moment! January was a huge step forward. I have proven myself that people are not what you hear about them; people are only what they are and how they behave. I started the driving school, and later I found that I have passed the so-much-desired-and-worked-for Cambridge Certificate in Advanced English ; the door-opening diploma, the one thanks to which I could freely join a foreign University. I had my second serious interview of my life: I wanted to volunteer for an NGO in my hometown. I donated blood for the first time. February has brought me a position in the NGO: I was going to do PR and translations for the next (at least) 6 months;