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Four years and many dolls later

2 015 has started in complete denial for me. After over a year and a half of heartbreak, some stress that came with that and some guts that came out of nowhere and ripped some bandages covering a lot of bad bad things, I had decided it was time to practice being single. But not in a wallowing in self pity feeling sorry for myself kind of way, nor in a “men are terrible, I should only rely on pets” kind, either. Just being single and bei ng curious about every single experience, from having the morning coffee by myself, to fully functioning professionally and socially. Not that I had not been single before, but very rarely was I not “on the market”. So, half of 2014 I had been single and since December of that year, I had decided I actually was going to give this solo thing a try. It lasted four full months. It doesn’t look much in writing, either! Well, here is what happened! Armed with the will to practice curiosity and patience, I have started planning, for 2015, all those th
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Lectie de la bunicul meu

Cand ma inscrisese mama la gradinita, nu aveam mai mult de trei ani. Imi aduc aminte ca ma speria gramada aia ce copii guralivi si energici. Eu eram “puiul bunicii”, o femeie trecuta de cincizeci de ani, obisnuita sa respecte regulile sociale si sa le incalce flagrant pe cele familiale, strecurandu-mi prajituri intre mese si luandu-ma la ea ca sa scap de somnul de dupa-amiaza. Eu eram ursuletul ei de plus, iar viata mea toata se invartea in jurul ei. Ea ma ducea la gradinita, intr-un autobuz cu nazuri, care scartaia si se poticnea la fiecare intorsatura de roata. Ba odata, mi-am spart buza in bara de care ma tineam cu atata inversunare, ca sa nu fiu aruncata din scaun. Tot ea, bunica, ma lua de la gradinita, zambitoare ca de obicei. Si punctuala. Foarte important, asa, pentru “gradinitzari” care, odata ce incepe sa se goleasca clasa, incep a avea previziuni apocaliptice despre cum au fost abandonati de parinti. Dar parintii ajung mereu, asa ca visul lor cel mai urat se fasaie ca u

I wanted to forget we shared the same city

I wanted to get away, to know him far away from me, far enough that even the thought of him wouldn’t reach me. When I decided to push him out of my life, I knew I was going to carry him inside me for a while. But I wasn’t expecting my lungs to burn when I breathe, or to wish to kill a part of me. I didn’t know anybody who had died until that moment. I never mourned for anyone. And now I was carrying around with me a dead body that nobody was seeing, nobody was in mourning for. Just me. Not surprisingly, I had become confused: who actually died? Then, time learned to pass by. I let myself be taught how to stay put and let it pass over me. I was always thinking about him though, sometimes with anger, other times wondering how I was capable of such submission. Never with nostalgia. Because I was afraid to miss him. Then I forgot how it is to carry him around. I forgot how missing him felt like. I regained my boring freedom.  It’s been four years. I talked about him as my grea

Am vrut sa uit ca impart orasul cu el...

... Am vrut sa plec, sa-l stiu departe, suficient de departe cat sa nu ma ajunga nici gandul de el.   Cand am hotarat sa ma rup de el, sa-l imping sa plece, stiam ca am sa-l port in mine o vreme dupa aceea. Nu ma asteptam sa ma arda plamanii cand respir si sa imi doresc sa omor o parte din mine. Nu mai stiam pe nimeni care sa fi murit. Nu mai tinusem niciodata doliu. Si acum purtam cu mine peste tot un mort pe care nimeni nu il vedea, nimeni nu il jelea. Numai eu. Nu e de mirare ca ajunsesem confuza: cine a murit, de fapt? Apoi, timpul a invatat sa treaca. Eu m-am lasat invatata sa stau locului si sa-l las sa treaca. M-am gandit mereu la el, uneori cu furie, alteori cu mirare ca am fost capabila de atata supunere.   Niciodata cu dor. Pentru ca mi-era frica sa imi fie dor. Apoi am uitat cum e sa am sentimentul de el. Si am uitat cum ar putea fi sa-mi fie dor. Mi-am recapatat plictisitoarea libertate. Au trecut patru ani. Am povestit despre el ca despre marea mea trag

Someone...

I couldn’t see it coming, some say… But I did. I saw it coming. And I stood my ground, ready to take on what was approaching. It went right through me and left me to pieces. I instantly forgot I ever had legs to stand on. Sounds, colors, thoughts – it all vanished. The world melted chaotically and my brain didn’t have matter to process anything with anymore.  I hit the ground at one point. I think I did. No breath. No blink. I lost myself in a coma that took me so deep into myself that I would not reach the surface and live a pain I wouldn’t have been able to survive. I don’t know who found me, what they did to me, for how long. Something was reassembling me. There was no point to it, anyway, I was thinking between blackouts. I couldn’t feel where I was beginning from and where I was ending. No point at all… When I was finally able to open my eyes I wanted to roar. I was nothing of what I’ve known before. I was never going to be. And I became enraged, without the p