a needle and a pin

What do you do when you can’t feel your arms and legs and can’t breathe and almost can’t talk?
You become aware of yourself but in a completely new way. You look into the driver’s eyes, fake a smile and kindly ask him to take you home. After eleven seconds your brain becomes functional and you ask again the driver to take you to that place where you can get fixed. You look for your phone and think of someone to call. It’s too early in the morning and people are either sleeping or away from the city. So you call no one. You get to the place and somehow you manage to get in. At this point you realize you have no bags with you. You turn around and see the driver getting them out of the car. He smiles. You pay and manage to say thank you and happy holidays. You lean against the wall while some tall guy dressed in blue and wearing white shoes comes your way and things start to get blurry. Then the first thing you hear is “Can you spell your name for me?”. Of course you can but you won’t cause you’d rather lay there and focus on that strange and warm tickling in your right arm. It soon takes over your entire body and you close your eyes and watch the images from the inside. “Don’t fall asleep! Open your eyes! Look at me and tell me your name!”. You keep your eyes closed and feel the tears leaving cold traces on your face. You’re aware that you might look like a worn out clown with smudged mascara. You don’t care. “Does it hurt? How long have you been like this?” You finally open your eyes and see the man in blue leaning over you. You can’t tell his age and the color of his eyes is uncertain. “A few days”. “And why didn’t you check in earlier?” You stare at him for a while then close your eyes again. He makes you promise you won’t fall asleep and then you hear him leave the room. He comes back with a nurse and an IV unit. Then you stay there watching the ceiling and the neon lights and biting your lips. You keep telling yourself this is a joke. “OK, you’re good to go now. But I’ll be expecting you here again in two days.” You go home,lock yourself in and go to sleep. You don’t unpack.

Q

Did you know I've been secretly though not madly in love with you all this time? And that I'd rather bite your lip than sit here watching you sleep in this bloody train? That I'd shout over and over again that this is not what I'm like and people need to take chances and adjust and maybe take a leap of faith? Or that I should have fucking punched you instead of letting you cut me into little pieces?

nu mai inteleg nimic

din ziua asta.

din curcubeul de decembrie, care vreo 10 minute pe la pranz a trasat un arc perfect si colorat de la cetatuie si pana in marasti/gheorgheni.

din rateurile unora.

din enervarile altora. si ale mele.

din oamenii mici-mici si rai si respingatori pe care trebuie sa ii ai prin preajma inca vreo trei-patru luni.

frame & tag

I did get the frame. All wooden and smart, certainly, but made in China. They don’t make genuine stuff anymore outside China.

It took me one bloody year to get this and I’m quite sure it will take another year or so to allow myself the time to cry and then move on.

You know I’m so reluctant to do and feel things like other people do. Not to mention mourning. You see, that’s the fun part, I agreed to let you go, we discussed about this and I said it’s ok and I wouldn’t mind and then you were gone. So I got the frame. Now what?