Tag Archives: life
I find meaning in all lyrics I hear nowadays. In all poems I read. And not any kind of meaning, but I make them apply to me, to my feelings, my situation, my life.
I didn’t hit anybody, I don’t yell at people, this is how I make myself feel better.
And this weekend, the city I live in has its “birthday”.
Yesterday we were at a concert. Quite romantic music, holding hands but mostly hugging and singing…
And it felt good.
Yelling some of the lyrics, because some songs were a bit more ‘rocky’
There was a song “I want a miracle, I want a miracle in my life, I want a miracle, to be able to change something…”
Because I know how much this last year has made me grow…in strength and everything (and let’s not forget those 8 kg I put on, because stress doesn’t slim me…), but doesn’t help me much in understanding why it happened.
It happened because… headache and rain, November and dark, bad people and innocence.
I’ve learned some things… in the last few months,
I’ve learned not to judge people on appearances.
To give the benefit of the doubt
That friends are friends…for life,
To understand that every person has a story behind his or her smiling face
That people are suffering every minute, every second, and every now and then
That people make mistakes, more often than they’d like to admit
When people suffer, they like to show it,
In different ways.
Because people are unique by definition. Of course.
People are strong…
Well, some people try to be strong,
They don’t complain and try to smile, and leave their life as if nothing happened…
Until they crack, because… life.
There’s no sufferance bigger than another…
Except there is..
When it’s yours,
It’s the biggest.
It’s the fucking biggest.
If you’d take time to ask a person for his or her story,
You might discover a drama…
But mine’s a drama.
Sorry for not getting over it.
Sorry for getting negative,
But such is life.
(I actually wrote this because I was told at work that people say about me I’m negative[on the calls?]. It got to me, and I would really like to post this to my FB page. But what do you think? Is this like “look at me, I’m living a drama, I’m suffering”, or… more discrete and ok to share on FB? Thank you!)
Probably going “crazier” and in much need of a psychologist, but… still here.
Will write more…Soon.
(Funny though, looking on deviant, searching for a photo using “crazy”, how this word got a positive connotation lately. I had to search for “depressed”, HAPPILY this word hasn’t changed it’s negative meaning)
I keep thinking and analyzing my thoughts and my feelings.
From the beginning I refused to think of myself as a victim, but as a survivor. I kept it all inside while looking around at people that were suffering because of my “happening”. Poor miss Audrey. Not your fault. We’re all here for you. Don’t cry, or …cry. How strong you are..
But the truth is that much of my strength was coming from their “pity”. Their suffering. First of all because I didn’t want to make them suffer even more, and second of all because all this talk about my strength and the idea of me being strong were making my ego very happy…
A month and almost two weeks have passed and to some extent I feel even worse. People seem to have forgotten, and that’s okay. But I haven’t. And I feel a bit like everybody’s moving on while I remain on a deserted island, alone. Is this only my impression? Perhaps.
Tuesday I’ll go back to work – the place where it all started, somehow. We’ll move in with my sister and her fiancé, and again I’ll have the shock of seeing how my beautiful life, my happy life was turned upside down by an idiot who has some mental illness, probably, and by chance…
And I don’t feel strong anymore. I don’t feel like being optimistic. I feel like breaking down and crying, but… It might be too late for that.
The most handsome man is the man you love.
She has a blog in Romanian, and some people shared her link on Facebook. And she’s naive. Well. Oh, well. She inspired me, at least. Sometimes I have to remind myself that I don’t write here for “fame” or likes on Facebook, but to be honest, when you have a little ego and you know you deserve more… Or you think you deserve more.
Basically, she was describing how a handsome, beautiful man would look like. How the most handsome man doesn’t have long eyelashes and doesn’t necessarily have a great body (…whatever that means), he doesn’t have blue eyes, but, BUUUT, what it matters is how he touches you with a smile, a look.
Oh, I’m in a foul mood to translate more, it’s late and I’m tired. But in her opinion, the most handsome man KNOWS when to pick up his woman (you know, if she’s down), and when to “throw her in the skies”*….
Before the conclusion, she wrote, and this I will translate, so I can make my point later in this post :
“The most beautiful man does not curse, does not spit, does not hurt, does not raise his hand to the woman when claims to love her (here she meant does not hit her) , does not blame anybody else when wrong, does not cheat and keeps the silence”.
About this, I would like to say… Wake up, this is the real world. Men and women make mistakes, men and women regret, men spit, women spit, I sometimes scream and I sometimes curse, mostly when I hit my little toe …auch!
This is not a fairy tale. You won’t find some prince charming, and let’s say you will… he won’t be an angel. If he was, you would be bored ….
And this idolization of men… Does she have the impression that men don’t… you know, go to the bathroom? Stink sometimes? Have mucus? And so on?
We’re people. We’re almost the same.
Her conclusion: “He is the most handsome man because because he doesn’t need too much to be the most handsome man”.
My conclusion : You want him to not curse, not hit, not cheat, give flowers, hold hands, pick you up, throw you in the skies, be your best friend, not run and not hide, be loving, be calm, respect you, talk much but know when to shut up, make you laugh, be modest but ambitious, love life but not risk it, be calm but have a gram of craziness.
OK, see…that’s too many. You ask for too much.
The perfect, the most handsome man is the man YOU love.
I know this now, I’ve lived with E. for 10 months. And apart from throwing me in the skies, which OH MY GOD, he doesn’t do all the time, and that bit about risking his life, he is fucking perfect! (note that curse word, it was intentional. I’m sooo ugly)
Well, in her vision. Because in my opinion even ugliness can make a person beautiful. Even defects can make a person gorgeous. And the mistakes…that’s what makes people unique.
As I was saying, 10 months of living with him, I’ve seen him unshaved, I’ve smelled his breath in the morning, I know it doesn’t smell like roses, and I’ve been unfortunate enough to must go in the bathroom after he was there… And he almost always eats the last piece of something I want!
And after all these, I can say I love him more. He’s mine, and I’m his.
The most handsome man is the man you love…
I’m proud to be in my longest and most serious relationship ever,
Happy Anniversary E.! 1 year and 10 months!
I couldn’t have done it without you! (Really!)
(OH, and sorry for typing so close to your head, hope you can sleep)
*At first I wrote “throw her up”….and I chuckled. Hihi.