Tag Archives: people

I remember

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As I go on in this journey of the soul, lost to the idea and struggle of getting what I want, and somehow believing that I will never get it, carrying on my shoulders the blessing and curse of feeling too much deep inside and close to nothing outside… I remember you.

I dare say every single person I have met has left a mark in my life. It is not cliché, that phrase that says we are all unique, whatever we are meant to be. We can only see another person through our own eyes, but here it goes…

I remember you father, every day. I miss our subtle disagreements and quiet understandings. I wish you could be in more chapters of my book of life. Few words, as it was, as we were, as it is.

I remember you, the thief taking advantage of an unexperienced and lonely heart.

I remember you, the teacher with family, friends, study, work, paths and omissions on his juggling hands. A man with a strong desire to share your beliefs, guided by your faith and your wish for enlightenment to someone else in the same path you found it. I remember you when I read the news of the struggle of your native land, I suffer with you.

I remember you, the sweet man with a permanent smile on his face, and a little sadness in his heart. A kind soul that used to cheer me on. A friend living in a foreign country, trying to stay in touch with what really matters. September is your month, happy birthday.

I remember you, the intriguing man who has the ability to take me through the whole spectrum of feelings. I keep learning good and bad things about life and myself thanks to you.

I remember you, the young man impossible to forget right now while we are still snoring side by side, at midnight, and love has not ended with the night.

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To Do

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–        Do I love him, grandma? Do I?

A day does not go by without me thinking of him. How perfect we can all get to be seen through loving eyes.

While I daydream, my nonexistent children have his eyebrows, his ears and his hair.

A sweet little word from him is treasured to last for all the days when ordinary words not spoken by poets in love are the only ones that reach my eyes, my ears.

What we’ve had and what we could have, I miss. I selfishly care deeply about his life, may he live long and healthy so I won’t have to miss him even more. I want him to be happy, hoping I can contribute a little with that; and curiously, I’ve discovered that some of that happiness bounces back to me.

I can’t stand him and I want him to change at times. I want him back at those precious minutes that I’ve witnessed. I want him to want time with me, as I do -as I want food-. I want to understand, to bear, not to doubt, to cope… not to want more.

And yet I fail, wanting more.

The feeling of giving up returns along with tears.

Once and again…

–        The thing is, my dear…

Does he love you back?

The real world

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One of my great dislikes is to see how my writings show me as a negative, cloudy sky person; but I can’t help it, words are my only scape when it comes to on-the-edge feelings. I tend to feel things so dramatically, and here I go again…

It is really strange that no one I know feels the way I do, about loyalty, about cruelty, about a life companion, and about many other things… It seems like only fiction matches my personality. I must admit that I have even researched for a syndrome that might describe me; but none have completely matched.

Despite that I’m not so young, my life has been sheltered in a way, having experienced this cozy and chaotic world that is mainly composed by my family, and no other permanent relationships. Much too comfortable with myself and much too incompatible with everyone around me.

I should have known when my mother heard me cry when I was still in the womb -only if I could remember-. Someone should have suspected something when I was born with one incisor tooth. It must have given me a clue when I would turn soviet red because I was asked to give a reading demonstration in preschool.  I should have known it when I was the only one feeling bad about my classmates teasing a child who wore glasses, and not joining them on their so child-like evil teasing. I should have known when people’s eyes spoke to me and made sense the way their words hardly ever did.

Who’s to know if genes or circumstances made me the way I am?; both things perhaps. I was born strange. I didn’t know, I just felt an itch inside me, somewhere close to my soul. Knowledge has come to me little by little through my life.

More than a couple of decades have passed, and in the core, I’m still the same kid. Do we ever truly change? My worries have changed, my hormones have woken up, my responsibilities have increased, my disappointments have piled up, but I’m still the same.

I’ve gotten more in touch with the real world the present year than I have ever been before. When I was this shy, smart, bright-eyed and inquisitive kid, I used to feel there was something dangerous about letting myself out of my own mind, about trusting others… I was right.

I’ve figured, I insist so much in not letting myself trust, because in fact I trust as easily as my heart bruises.

There is something about the work environment… People turn into back-stabbers when their monthly income is involved.

And there is something else about love and sex too… People turn into… people, when their physical pleasure or the utopia of true love are at stake.

Some things that happen, I still can’t believe. My poor thoughts-right-out-of-my-mind filter hasn’t helped at all. The fact that I look 5 years younger than I am, reflects exactly my insides.

People with kind words and toothy smiles can hide so huge lies. People say words they do not mean. People do low things to feel above you at work. People bid farewell in the most easy and cruel way, not caring if half your heart is with them. People are capable of stealing with little or no charge of conscience.

The real world kind of sucks, but bring it on.