It was the year
The crows and locusts came
The fields drained dry the rain
The fields are bleeding
It was the age
The foxes came for the fields
We were bleeding as we bowed to kneel
And prayed for mercy, prayed for mercy
She limps on up to the top of a mount
Looks at the faltered harvest
Feels her sweat in the ground and the burn in her nose
And the knowing in her guts
Something's still gonna grow
She ain't leaving 'till it does...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gbcDpwqphH0
вторник, 16 ноември 2010 г.
вторник, 26 октомври 2010 г.
... or not...
Maybe it's not what I think it is...
Maybe it's all in my head...
Maybe it's my fear talking...
Maybe we could do it...
Maybe we could make it work...
Maybe it's all ok...
Maybe we can be what we want to be...
Maybe we can save the world together...
Maybe it's nothing...
Maybe it's everything...
Maybe I'm not trusting...
Maybe I can be here...
Maybe it's all so very right...
Maybe I'm not listening...
Maybe ...
Maybe it's all in my head...
Maybe it's my fear talking...
Maybe we could do it...
Maybe we could make it work...
Maybe it's all ok...
Maybe we can be what we want to be...
Maybe we can save the world together...
Maybe it's nothing...
Maybe it's everything...
Maybe I'm not trusting...
Maybe I can be here...
Maybe it's all so very right...
Maybe I'm not listening...
Maybe ...
вторник, 21 септември 2010 г.
C'est La Vie... I suppose...
So many things inside my 0.00000000001 square foot head...
The moon is simply unbearable, or so it seems...
And water's dripping from my hair and it's freezing cold... But it doesn't matter much cause I wonder if I'm stupid or simply not smart enough. Feels like I've already been here and I am sure I haven't. And patience is what I'm learning. But that's a big word. Bigger than any other word I know. You are sitting inside my head making me unable to think clearly. And no matter how hard I try it always ends up with one thing. You. That's a complex term too. I am drinking my milk but milk, I've found, doesn't solve problems, doesn't make things better. And frankly... I don't know what does. And questions are getting bigger, more complicated, more difficult, more invading.
And one thing I have... a teeny tiny hope... That God is going to put things in order... In whatever order He wants...
понеделник, 16 август 2010 г.
=)
Best friends become former best friends and people care until they don't anymore. But it's ok cause if you tell them all that they're gonna be all over you trying to help... But if you keep your mouth shut no one's even gonna notice. And life is a funny thing, it just works that way. You just get thrown out like a tissue that's not needed anymore and you wonder why... It's obvious... You're just simply not needed anymore. Once people find out who you really are they tend to not like that and that's the end of it. Oh, but it's not like you're a bad person... You're just not good enough for them to stick around. And the answer is to find people who will stick around no matter what... Ha ha. Easier said than done. I personally think they don't exist. Cause everyone needs, wants something... So your friendship depends on how well you satisfy their needs. If you suddenly decide not to go with every little desire... better open the phone book and start looking for new friends. But hey... if that's generally true that means that I am like that too... Cool. So now it's not just that I don't have real friends... I am not a real friend either. Everyone sucks and so do I. Gotta stop watching that show... It's gonna ruin me... more than I already am...
понеделник, 26 юли 2010 г.
On Marriage
On Marriage
Kahlil Gibran
You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.
You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days.
Ay, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.
Love one another, but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.
Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.
Kahlil Gibran
You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.
You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days.
Ay, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.
Love one another, but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.
Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.
събота, 24 юли 2010 г.
I'm a mountains person
Fights, dusty roads, full trains, drunk punks, plumbs, yogurt in the center of it all, classy restaurants, Russian perverts, screaming mom, stupid parents that let their babies play with lighters, naked women, cute couple, green flag, shyness, sleep, "you" having a new definition now, parks, fake ponds, cola with no ice, middle aged married people kissing, dresses, cute foreigners, Incredible India!, "I'm looking for a vampire", window shopping, 40 degrees, cheeseburgers, drug stores, ballet dancers, amazing muscles, running cousins, funny friends, red noses, sleep, wind, chaos, cold shower, yogurt, sleep... And that's about it...
четвъртък, 22 юли 2010 г.
You and I
I mess up all the time. I always screw up. But the funny thing is that You know that. And the funniest thing is that You knew that long before I was here. And even though You knew that I was gonna be a big joke... You signed up for this. For me. You still decided that You want to love me, me and my messing up. And I don't understand that. Yet not understanding You and the way You do things... That's what I signed up for...
вторник, 20 юли 2010 г.
Here's to us
Here's to people that matter.
Here's to people I care about.
Here's to people that I pray about.
Here's to people that leave.
Here's to those who don't care anymore.
Here's to those who I miss after they're gone.
Here's to those who leave a void inside your heart.
Here's to you.
Here's to people that chase other people away and then want them back.
Here's to people who can't seem to figure out what they want.
Here's to forgettable people.
Here's to replaceable people.
Here's to lonely people.
Here's to stupid people.
Here's to me.
Here's to people I care about.
Here's to people that I pray about.
Here's to people that leave.
Here's to those who don't care anymore.
Here's to those who I miss after they're gone.
Here's to those who leave a void inside your heart.
Here's to you.
Here's to people that chase other people away and then want them back.
Here's to people who can't seem to figure out what they want.
Here's to forgettable people.
Here's to replaceable people.
Here's to lonely people.
Here's to stupid people.
Here's to me.
неделя, 18 юли 2010 г.
Friendlessness
I hate needing you...
I would die for each and every one of you if I had to...
But I hate needing you...
And expecting things of you...
Things that obviously you don't want to offer...
Call it cry for attention...
Call it being self-centered...
Call it whatever you want...
I will call it friendlessness...
I would die for each and every one of you if I had to...
But I hate needing you...
And expecting things of you...
Things that obviously you don't want to offer...
Call it cry for attention...
Call it being self-centered...
Call it whatever you want...
I will call it friendlessness...
петък, 16 юли 2010 г.
I tell you... Run...
That's it. The decision's made. There's no turning back. Door's locked, key's thrown away. And now there's only forward. Can't even think about looking what's behind you. You already said Yes.
And now you're standing on a field with only your doubts and the realization... That's it. This is who you are, this is the life you've chosen. And you can see the light, the direction. Take a deep breath. Again. Take off your pretty shoes. Lift up the edges of your beautiful dress. And now run. Run as fast as you can. Run the way you've never ran before. Run fast. Run with all your strength, with all that is in you. Forget about your doubts. Now it's you and that road. And the miles. So run girl. Just run... And don't even think about stopping or looking back. Getting tired is not an option. Cause He's waiting at the end. And we both know it's worth it.
Run for your love.
Run for your heart.
Run for your life, girl... I tell you... Run...
And now you're standing on a field with only your doubts and the realization... That's it. This is who you are, this is the life you've chosen. And you can see the light, the direction. Take a deep breath. Again. Take off your pretty shoes. Lift up the edges of your beautiful dress. And now run. Run as fast as you can. Run the way you've never ran before. Run fast. Run with all your strength, with all that is in you. Forget about your doubts. Now it's you and that road. And the miles. So run girl. Just run... And don't even think about stopping or looking back. Getting tired is not an option. Cause He's waiting at the end. And we both know it's worth it.
Run for your love.
Run for your heart.
Run for your life, girl... I tell you... Run...
сряда, 23 юни 2010 г.
Oceans, seas, lakes, rivers, puddles... Let's make it a tear drop...
And here again... Someone would ask me... "Aren't you tired of coming to this place?"
I need You. I want You. I love You. But every wind tosses me around taking me away from Your embrace. Thieves come and want to steal all that I have, all that You have given me. And it's not like I don't want to fight them... I just don't. I watch them come and take. At the same time standing at the edge of something (who knows what), blankly staring at the sky wondering if sunshine is what's waiting for me or storms that are beyond what I can imagine. Finding out is yet to come but I rather not be here when I find out. And it's not like You haven't been good to me. It's not like You haven't given me enough and more than what I want. I just need to learn how to love You more. Cause it's precious time being wasted here. I'm gonna be dying for me. I hope I am. I hate hearing what You have to say and still doing it my own way.
Have me. All of what I am. Be jealous the way I know You can be. Jealous enough not to allow anything or anyone have even a small piece of me. Cause they are all Yours.
I need You. I want You. I love You. But every wind tosses me around taking me away from Your embrace. Thieves come and want to steal all that I have, all that You have given me. And it's not like I don't want to fight them... I just don't. I watch them come and take. At the same time standing at the edge of something (who knows what), blankly staring at the sky wondering if sunshine is what's waiting for me or storms that are beyond what I can imagine. Finding out is yet to come but I rather not be here when I find out. And it's not like You haven't been good to me. It's not like You haven't given me enough and more than what I want. I just need to learn how to love You more. Cause it's precious time being wasted here. I'm gonna be dying for me. I hope I am. I hate hearing what You have to say and still doing it my own way.
Have me. All of what I am. Be jealous the way I know You can be. Jealous enough not to allow anything or anyone have even a small piece of me. Cause they are all Yours.
петък, 11 юни 2010 г.
"Would lose not Him, but you, must one be lost..."
Now I know... What is it that I know?
I know I love You... I know I love You more than anything else, anyone else I love...
So now I'm learning to live with You. Obedience is very important, I have learned. If this is how You understand love... Then so be it... I will be obedient. Because I know that no matter how much I want something... You I want more.
And I hope I have the will and the strength to give up anything You might ask me to give up. My own desires I give up. Your desires are far better.
College, job, marriage, friends... Just name it... I give it all up for You.
I guess it's easier to say it than actually do it... Time will tell. But I pray that those words of mine become real. Nothing is to come between me and You. If my wishes are in contrast to Yours... Mine will just have to die. Oh those blissful deaths...
Nothing is more beautiful than the death of a dream or a wish in obedience to Him, Who knows better, Who has better. So I put my dreams on the altar. My plans for the future... Burn.
When I was little me and my dad used to go out for walks... And sometimes I would close my eyes, take his hand and tell him: "Dad, I closed my eyes, lead me..."
It is very surprising... Cause it is a beautiful parable.
So, Daddy... I have my eyes closed, I can't see a thing, but I believe You will not let me down. Here is my hand... Lead me...
O Love that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in Thee
I give Thee back the life I owe,
That in Thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.
I know I love You... I know I love You more than anything else, anyone else I love...
So now I'm learning to live with You. Obedience is very important, I have learned. If this is how You understand love... Then so be it... I will be obedient. Because I know that no matter how much I want something... You I want more.
And I hope I have the will and the strength to give up anything You might ask me to give up. My own desires I give up. Your desires are far better.
College, job, marriage, friends... Just name it... I give it all up for You.
I guess it's easier to say it than actually do it... Time will tell. But I pray that those words of mine become real. Nothing is to come between me and You. If my wishes are in contrast to Yours... Mine will just have to die. Oh those blissful deaths...
Nothing is more beautiful than the death of a dream or a wish in obedience to Him, Who knows better, Who has better. So I put my dreams on the altar. My plans for the future... Burn.
When I was little me and my dad used to go out for walks... And sometimes I would close my eyes, take his hand and tell him: "Dad, I closed my eyes, lead me..."
It is very surprising... Cause it is a beautiful parable.
So, Daddy... I have my eyes closed, I can't see a thing, but I believe You will not let me down. Here is my hand... Lead me...
O Love that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in Thee
I give Thee back the life I owe,
That in Thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.
сряда, 9 юни 2010 г.
Princess
She's a Princess...
It might not be seen, but she is...
It's not written on her face, nowhere on her body... But it's written on her heart.
And she's got a crown of silver, the most beautiful crown ever to be made. But no one knows about it. Cause she doesn't wear it everyday.
She does the shopping, she does the cooking, she washes dishes and makes beds.
She pushes buttons to make machines do things, she knows how much salt the salad needs, she knows what kind of shampoo to buy. And she's great in everything she does.
But what others don't know, what no one else sees is the beautiful Princess she actually is. She's breath-taking and so beautiful... She walks with grace, her lips speak life, her hands lift up the broken. She's not made of steel, oh no. Her heart is vulnerable, easily hurt sometimes. But she knows who she is. Every once in a while, though, she forgets. In those moments she just takes out her beautiful silver crown and proudly puts it on her head. And sometimes... When no one's around, she wears it a little bit longer. She smiles at the reflection in the mirror and prays that she may never forget that she's a real Princess. And then... with that grace and beauty she goes to the kitchen sink and starts washing dishes...
It might not be seen, but she is...
It's not written on her face, nowhere on her body... But it's written on her heart.
And she's got a crown of silver, the most beautiful crown ever to be made. But no one knows about it. Cause she doesn't wear it everyday.
She does the shopping, she does the cooking, she washes dishes and makes beds.
She pushes buttons to make machines do things, she knows how much salt the salad needs, she knows what kind of shampoo to buy. And she's great in everything she does.
But what others don't know, what no one else sees is the beautiful Princess she actually is. She's breath-taking and so beautiful... She walks with grace, her lips speak life, her hands lift up the broken. She's not made of steel, oh no. Her heart is vulnerable, easily hurt sometimes. But she knows who she is. Every once in a while, though, she forgets. In those moments she just takes out her beautiful silver crown and proudly puts it on her head. And sometimes... When no one's around, she wears it a little bit longer. She smiles at the reflection in the mirror and prays that she may never forget that she's a real Princess. And then... with that grace and beauty she goes to the kitchen sink and starts washing dishes...
понеделник, 17 май 2010 г.
Letter to my younger self...
Hello me...
I wish I could go back in time now and tell you all the things you needed to know, answer some of your questions.
I wish I could travel back and tell you that you are beautiful no matter what others say, no matter what others don't say.
I would have told you that you are a nice person.
I would have told you that you are strong and captivating so that you may never expect others to think that of you.
I would have told you to stay away from some people.
I would have told you not to open up your heart so much.
I would have taught you not to bite your nails.
I would have taught you how not to believe people when they say certain things.
I would have also told you that I am proud of you.
I would have been there for you when you were crying so that you could hug me instead of bears or blankets.
I would have asked you to study harder so that your mom and dad might be proud of you.
I would have taught you to wear more skirts and heels so that your sister might think you are pretty and look like a girl.
I would have shown you the future so that you would know what to do, what not to do and maybe then you wouldn't have been so confused.
I would have walked with you so that you wouldn't have to walk alone.
I would have told you not to talk so much.
I would have told you to keep your head up and never give up.
I would have asked you not to become who I am now.
But...
I never went back in time. I never came to see you. I never told you the things you needed to know and never answered your questions. And so you grew up not knowing.
I never told you that you are beautiful. So looking in the mirror you were never satisfied.
I never told you that you are a nice person so you never thought that of yourself.
I never told you that you are strong and captivating so you expected others to tell you that... But they never did. So you were disappointed.
I never told you to stay away from some people so you never stayed away and they hurt you.
I never told you not to open up your heart so much and so you opened it too much. And it got damaged.
I never taught you how not to bite your nails and so you still do that.
I never told you not to believe certain things people say so you believed every word.
I never told you that I am proud of you and so you have never known what that feels like.
I was never there for you when you were crying and so you hugged cold bears and senseless blankets.
I never asked you to study harder so you never did and your parents were never satisfied with you.
I never taught you to wear more skirts and heels so you wore jeans and t shirts and sneakers and your sister has never thought you are pretty.
I never showed you the future and so you never knew what to do, what not to do and you went through those years being confused.
I never walked with you and so you had to walk alone many times.
I never told you not to talk so much so you talked way too much.
I never told you to keep your head up and not give up and so you did those things so many times.
I never asked you not to become who I am now... And so you became who I am now. And who I am now is not what you would have wanted for yourself. But it is a lost battle. Because whether I like it or not, whether you would have liked it or not I am who I am and you were who you were. But you are no more.
I wish I could go back in time now and tell you all the things you needed to know, answer some of your questions.
I wish I could travel back and tell you that you are beautiful no matter what others say, no matter what others don't say.
I would have told you that you are a nice person.
I would have told you that you are strong and captivating so that you may never expect others to think that of you.
I would have told you to stay away from some people.
I would have told you not to open up your heart so much.
I would have taught you not to bite your nails.
I would have taught you how not to believe people when they say certain things.
I would have also told you that I am proud of you.
I would have been there for you when you were crying so that you could hug me instead of bears or blankets.
I would have asked you to study harder so that your mom and dad might be proud of you.
I would have taught you to wear more skirts and heels so that your sister might think you are pretty and look like a girl.
I would have shown you the future so that you would know what to do, what not to do and maybe then you wouldn't have been so confused.
I would have walked with you so that you wouldn't have to walk alone.
I would have told you not to talk so much.
I would have told you to keep your head up and never give up.
I would have asked you not to become who I am now.
But...
I never went back in time. I never came to see you. I never told you the things you needed to know and never answered your questions. And so you grew up not knowing.
I never told you that you are beautiful. So looking in the mirror you were never satisfied.
I never told you that you are a nice person so you never thought that of yourself.
I never told you that you are strong and captivating so you expected others to tell you that... But they never did. So you were disappointed.
I never told you to stay away from some people so you never stayed away and they hurt you.
I never told you not to open up your heart so much and so you opened it too much. And it got damaged.
I never taught you how not to bite your nails and so you still do that.
I never told you not to believe certain things people say so you believed every word.
I never told you that I am proud of you and so you have never known what that feels like.
I was never there for you when you were crying and so you hugged cold bears and senseless blankets.
I never asked you to study harder so you never did and your parents were never satisfied with you.
I never taught you to wear more skirts and heels so you wore jeans and t shirts and sneakers and your sister has never thought you are pretty.
I never showed you the future and so you never knew what to do, what not to do and you went through those years being confused.
I never walked with you and so you had to walk alone many times.
I never told you not to talk so much so you talked way too much.
I never told you to keep your head up and not give up and so you did those things so many times.
I never asked you not to become who I am now... And so you became who I am now. And who I am now is not what you would have wanted for yourself. But it is a lost battle. Because whether I like it or not, whether you would have liked it or not I am who I am and you were who you were. But you are no more.
неделя, 9 май 2010 г.
Doubts
I have doubts...
One to be exact...
Should I have that doubt...
I don't know...
The thing is...
that...
I doubt my doubt...
Maybe my doubt is true...
I don't know...
But then again who does...
It shouldn't matter if my doubt is right...
But it does...
And it shouldn't...
Maybe it is right...
Maybe it isn't...
Probably...
Nah...
Pffff, I don't know...
It shouldn't matter...
Oh but it does...
All in all...
It sucks to have doubts...
And it sucks twice to doubt your doubts...
One to be exact...
Should I have that doubt...
I don't know...
The thing is...
that...
I doubt my doubt...
Maybe my doubt is true...
I don't know...
But then again who does...
It shouldn't matter if my doubt is right...
But it does...
And it shouldn't...
Maybe it is right...
Maybe it isn't...
Probably...
Nah...
Pffff, I don't know...
It shouldn't matter...
Oh but it does...
All in all...
It sucks to have doubts...
And it sucks twice to doubt your doubts...
събота, 8 май 2010 г.
Спомени
Предатели!!! Мръсни предатели!!! Аз продължих, живях, усмихвах се и се смях... И после дойдохте вие. Някой да ми обясни защо... Не сте ми нужни. Мразя ви и ви обичам. Само вас си имам. Но не ви искам. Боря се с вас, побеждавам, после отново се надигате и воювате срещу мен. С всичката си сила се опитвам да ви отблъсна... Но вие винаги се връщате... По-силни от преди, по-хубави, по-красиви и по-болезнени. Идвате със снимка в ръка или с писмо, или с бележка или просто с дума. Идвате и разрушавате всичко, което съм градила. А как ви мразя. А колко сте ми скъпи. А как искам да не бяхте това което сте. А как боли от вас. Живеете в мен и живеете срещу мен. Предатели! Оставете ме намира. Веднъж завинаги.
Не си отивайте... Само вас имам... Предатели... Спомени...
Не си отивайте... Само вас имам... Предатели... Спомени...
вторник, 27 април 2010 г.
Интересни мисли в моята глава
Здравей скъпи читателю. (който и да си ти)
Аз, да си призная честно, просто исках да напиша нещо. Така да се каже весело ми е, няма какво да правя... И си викам "ей, дай да напиша нещо в блога". И така де...
Не знам за какво ще пиша... Може би за предстоящото изпращане... Много емоции, много нещо... То не било рокли, обувки, шалове и чанти, френски маникюри, изкуствена коса и мигли... Да не споменаваме Майкъл Джексън и депресиращите му песни. Не искам да прозвучи гадно (всъщност... няма значение как ще прозвучи) радвам се, че този човек не е успял да напише още повече песни. Но както и да е... Реч, Мерцедес, цветя... Голямо чудо. Само сняг трябва да завали и ще бъде просто златно, както обичам да казвам. А после сини (или черни химикали), служебни бележки, матурки... Такива ми ти работи. А пък после и бал. От сега да знаете... Аз и Киро ще сме най-хубавите. Или поне аз =) За Киро не отговарям. Ама така като се замисля... тоя цветен чувал... Не знам. Децата в Африка гладуват, а аз харча толкова плат. Голямо разхищение. На зле отиват нещата ми се струва. Пък и селската работа със сутиена...
Да се върнем назад във времето. Вчера например. Чудя се аз... Тая жена, многоуважаваната Десева, няма ли да ме остави на мира??? Добре, разбрахме че не съм направила превода, Е И??? Всички оживяха, никой не умря като няма превод. Да взема аз да измисля в стихотворна форма тоя превод и на изпращането да го изрецитирам. Да не говорим, че лимона не пада далеч от дървото (поговорката е с ябълки ама лимон повече отива на ситуацията). Майката превзета, щерката и тя такава. Важното е, че не са 100, а 97.80!!!!! Държа да отбележа .80!!! Щяха да бъдат 100, но нали "еврото е постоянна величина", г-жо Десева...
И стоя си аз така, разглеждам любимия FB и се чудя какво правя на този свят... Чудя се... Как така има място за хора като мен и за хора като тях... С техните превзети пози за снимки, в които имитират целувки, а аз ги гледам и ми се иска да не бях обядвала. Ноктенца, гримче, токченца... Като извадени от най-големия ми кошмар. И тук е мястото и времето да благодаря, че съществува разумът =)
Маратонки се въртят из главата ми, прическите им пресичат пътя, а Велико Търново най-нахално се бута... И валерианче май няма да помогне. Може би време... Да, времето би трябвало да помогне. Пък ако и то не помогне... Пускам си "They Don't Care About Us" за депресарско настроение и скачам от моста.
Накъде отива този свят щом и най-добрата ми приятелка вече прилича на момиче :D Нищо Белси... Ще победим лицемерието и тъпотията с непукизъм. Напук на всички ще си изкараме яко. Важното е че разума надделя, а малоумието ще прави лунната стъпка на изпращането. И също е много важно, че съм почти готова за лятото. Като изключим, че нямам работа. Ех тая безработица големи проблеми създава. И навън всичко е зелено и мирише на прясно окосена трева и слънцето си пече. Упс... Поправка... Слънцето свети. Забравих, че лапмата пече. И така де... Слънцето свети, птичките си пеят, госпожата по математика ми се прави на интересна, но важното е че ми вярва. Аз не лъжа когато става дума за корен от 1369. И като си представя в сряда какъв рев ще пада. А какъв смях ще пада... А каква излагация... Пууууу, да сме живи и здрави, че завършваме, че иначе къде да се нагледаме на такъв сеир. На 25.05 ще преобладават цикламените обувки, цикламените рокли иииии... разбира се, оранжевите лица. Както се пее в песента Оооооооооооооооооооранжево небето, оранжево морето, оранжева Ирееееен =)
А как ми се ходи в Русе, да знаеш... Да ядем вкусни, не добре увити дюнери, да лежим по пейките в парка, да ходим при Мими и да се превземаме в магазини за платове. Да отидем до банята в най-фешънското кафене и да се хилим като умствено изостанали... Ех, хубави времена бяха. Как ми се иска тогава да знаех това което знам сега... Нямаше да си купя онзи глупав плат и да се хиля когато Мими каже нещо за мен на български. Но нищо. Времето си върви, не ни чака и не ни пита дали на нас ни се върви с него. А аз правя списък с хората които искам да спъна на бала си. Но като цяло не съм лош човек. Питайте Сибел. Всъщност... Не, не я питайте... Аз и казвам, че е кьорава и се тутка. Питайте Жана. Тя никога не би казала за мен, че съм лош човек. Аз съм сериозна!!! И характеристиката ми ще бъде безупречна.
И така... Имам да връщам 1 милион пари на 1 милион човека. Но като цяло живота не е толкова гаден щом знам че 17 автори е правилно. Раста. Нищо че на стената ми има облачета, пеперудки и слънца. Аз съм голям човек. И ако още някой, от сорта Иво, ми каже да се успокоя ще ми изяде спокойния юмрук. Пращам усмивки на всички мои мили читатели, които въпреки че са прочели всички глупости които съм написала досега, продължават да четат. =) Евала на простотията ми, но и вие не ми отстъпвате щом не сте се отказали на втория ред =)
Аз, да си призная честно, просто исках да напиша нещо. Така да се каже весело ми е, няма какво да правя... И си викам "ей, дай да напиша нещо в блога". И така де...
Не знам за какво ще пиша... Може би за предстоящото изпращане... Много емоции, много нещо... То не било рокли, обувки, шалове и чанти, френски маникюри, изкуствена коса и мигли... Да не споменаваме Майкъл Джексън и депресиращите му песни. Не искам да прозвучи гадно (всъщност... няма значение как ще прозвучи) радвам се, че този човек не е успял да напише още повече песни. Но както и да е... Реч, Мерцедес, цветя... Голямо чудо. Само сняг трябва да завали и ще бъде просто златно, както обичам да казвам. А после сини (или черни химикали), служебни бележки, матурки... Такива ми ти работи. А пък после и бал. От сега да знаете... Аз и Киро ще сме най-хубавите. Или поне аз =) За Киро не отговарям. Ама така като се замисля... тоя цветен чувал... Не знам. Децата в Африка гладуват, а аз харча толкова плат. Голямо разхищение. На зле отиват нещата ми се струва. Пък и селската работа със сутиена...
Да се върнем назад във времето. Вчера например. Чудя се аз... Тая жена, многоуважаваната Десева, няма ли да ме остави на мира??? Добре, разбрахме че не съм направила превода, Е И??? Всички оживяха, никой не умря като няма превод. Да взема аз да измисля в стихотворна форма тоя превод и на изпращането да го изрецитирам. Да не говорим, че лимона не пада далеч от дървото (поговорката е с ябълки ама лимон повече отива на ситуацията). Майката превзета, щерката и тя такава. Важното е, че не са 100, а 97.80!!!!! Държа да отбележа .80!!! Щяха да бъдат 100, но нали "еврото е постоянна величина", г-жо Десева...
И стоя си аз така, разглеждам любимия FB и се чудя какво правя на този свят... Чудя се... Как така има място за хора като мен и за хора като тях... С техните превзети пози за снимки, в които имитират целувки, а аз ги гледам и ми се иска да не бях обядвала. Ноктенца, гримче, токченца... Като извадени от най-големия ми кошмар. И тук е мястото и времето да благодаря, че съществува разумът =)
Маратонки се въртят из главата ми, прическите им пресичат пътя, а Велико Търново най-нахално се бута... И валерианче май няма да помогне. Може би време... Да, времето би трябвало да помогне. Пък ако и то не помогне... Пускам си "They Don't Care About Us" за депресарско настроение и скачам от моста.
Накъде отива този свят щом и най-добрата ми приятелка вече прилича на момиче :D Нищо Белси... Ще победим лицемерието и тъпотията с непукизъм. Напук на всички ще си изкараме яко. Важното е че разума надделя, а малоумието ще прави лунната стъпка на изпращането. И също е много важно, че съм почти готова за лятото. Като изключим, че нямам работа. Ех тая безработица големи проблеми създава. И навън всичко е зелено и мирише на прясно окосена трева и слънцето си пече. Упс... Поправка... Слънцето свети. Забравих, че лапмата пече. И така де... Слънцето свети, птичките си пеят, госпожата по математика ми се прави на интересна, но важното е че ми вярва. Аз не лъжа когато става дума за корен от 1369. И като си представя в сряда какъв рев ще пада. А какъв смях ще пада... А каква излагация... Пууууу, да сме живи и здрави, че завършваме, че иначе къде да се нагледаме на такъв сеир. На 25.05 ще преобладават цикламените обувки, цикламените рокли иииии... разбира се, оранжевите лица. Както се пее в песента Оооооооооооооооооооранжево небето, оранжево морето, оранжева Ирееееен =)
А как ми се ходи в Русе, да знаеш... Да ядем вкусни, не добре увити дюнери, да лежим по пейките в парка, да ходим при Мими и да се превземаме в магазини за платове. Да отидем до банята в най-фешънското кафене и да се хилим като умствено изостанали... Ех, хубави времена бяха. Как ми се иска тогава да знаех това което знам сега... Нямаше да си купя онзи глупав плат и да се хиля когато Мими каже нещо за мен на български. Но нищо. Времето си върви, не ни чака и не ни пита дали на нас ни се върви с него. А аз правя списък с хората които искам да спъна на бала си. Но като цяло не съм лош човек. Питайте Сибел. Всъщност... Не, не я питайте... Аз и казвам, че е кьорава и се тутка. Питайте Жана. Тя никога не би казала за мен, че съм лош човек. Аз съм сериозна!!! И характеристиката ми ще бъде безупречна.
И така... Имам да връщам 1 милион пари на 1 милион човека. Но като цяло живота не е толкова гаден щом знам че 17 автори е правилно. Раста. Нищо че на стената ми има облачета, пеперудки и слънца. Аз съм голям човек. И ако още някой, от сорта Иво, ми каже да се успокоя ще ми изяде спокойния юмрук. Пращам усмивки на всички мои мили читатели, които въпреки че са прочели всички глупости които съм написала досега, продължават да четат. =) Евала на простотията ми, но и вие не ми отстъпвате щом не сте се отказали на втория ред =)
сряда, 14 април 2010 г.
Най-важното знам...
Осъзнах, че не знам толкова неща...
Не знам защо вали дъжд, защо има лято и пролет, нито защо Земята се върти по определен начин, не знам защо родителите не разбират децата си, и не ми се побира в главата защо някои мечти остаряват. Науката се е опитала да даде физични обяснения за някои от тези неща... Но ние не говорим за това. Не става дума за това как се получава дъждът... А защо го има и откъде се е появил. Той е много повече от просто изпарена вода. Дъждът е капчици по прозореца, локвички по улиците, рекички по косите, той има мирис, той има определена траектория, той живее по определен начин... И аз просто не знам защо.
Знам, че хората понякога постъпват лошо. Те лъжат, те викат, те се сърдят, те ревнуват, те са егоисти понякога и мразят. Но не знам защо. Предполагам, че това е личен избор... Но защо ни е предоставен този избор да бъдем добри или да бъдем лоши.
Понякога тези въпроси идват в главата ми и застават като гиганти, а аз съм толкова малка и незначителна пред тях. И размахвам ръце, стрелям с въздушните си стрели и сякаш ритам с крак бетонна стена. Те са по-големи от мен. Но това не е проблем. Защото няма нужда да знам отговорите на всички въпроси. И без отговори се живее. И аз обичам живота такъв какъвто е... Сложен, странен, прекалено объркан за да го разбереш. Той понякога е толкова нелеп и глупав, но си признавам... Дори и тогава без него не мога. Той е несправедлив, а аз сякаш прекалено малка за да се боря с тази негова несправедливост. И всички ми казват, че мечтите не водят на никъде, че съм наивна и някой ден ще трябва да падна от облачето на което съм сега. Добре, така да бъде. Но ако мога да остана поне още един ден на това мое сладко облаче, нямам намерение да слизам докато то не се разпръсне като мъгла, оставяйки под мен само въздух. Да, това не е скъпо платена професия, но аз искам нея. И да, може би няма накъде повече да се изкачваш... Но аз ще намеря. А те просто не са видели стълбичките, многото стълбички нагоре. И няма значение, че се смеят. И че той, животът, също се смее. Точно такъв искам да бъде... весел. И ако навън е сиво и мрачно, аз ще направя да не е. И ако локвичките станат много големи и решат да се застоят аз просто ще покажа на хората как да се забавляват с тях. Детска и наивна... Да, предполагам. И в това няма нищо лошо. Поне червените ми обувки ще оставят следи след себе си...
Не знам защо вали дъжд, защо има лято и пролет, нито защо Земята се върти по определен начин, не знам защо родителите не разбират децата си, и не ми се побира в главата защо някои мечти остаряват. Науката се е опитала да даде физични обяснения за някои от тези неща... Но ние не говорим за това. Не става дума за това как се получава дъждът... А защо го има и откъде се е появил. Той е много повече от просто изпарена вода. Дъждът е капчици по прозореца, локвички по улиците, рекички по косите, той има мирис, той има определена траектория, той живее по определен начин... И аз просто не знам защо.
Знам, че хората понякога постъпват лошо. Те лъжат, те викат, те се сърдят, те ревнуват, те са егоисти понякога и мразят. Но не знам защо. Предполагам, че това е личен избор... Но защо ни е предоставен този избор да бъдем добри или да бъдем лоши.
Понякога тези въпроси идват в главата ми и застават като гиганти, а аз съм толкова малка и незначителна пред тях. И размахвам ръце, стрелям с въздушните си стрели и сякаш ритам с крак бетонна стена. Те са по-големи от мен. Но това не е проблем. Защото няма нужда да знам отговорите на всички въпроси. И без отговори се живее. И аз обичам живота такъв какъвто е... Сложен, странен, прекалено объркан за да го разбереш. Той понякога е толкова нелеп и глупав, но си признавам... Дори и тогава без него не мога. Той е несправедлив, а аз сякаш прекалено малка за да се боря с тази негова несправедливост. И всички ми казват, че мечтите не водят на никъде, че съм наивна и някой ден ще трябва да падна от облачето на което съм сега. Добре, така да бъде. Но ако мога да остана поне още един ден на това мое сладко облаче, нямам намерение да слизам докато то не се разпръсне като мъгла, оставяйки под мен само въздух. Да, това не е скъпо платена професия, но аз искам нея. И да, може би няма накъде повече да се изкачваш... Но аз ще намеря. А те просто не са видели стълбичките, многото стълбички нагоре. И няма значение, че се смеят. И че той, животът, също се смее. Точно такъв искам да бъде... весел. И ако навън е сиво и мрачно, аз ще направя да не е. И ако локвичките станат много големи и решат да се застоят аз просто ще покажа на хората как да се забавляват с тях. Детска и наивна... Да, предполагам. И в това няма нищо лошо. Поне червените ми обувки ще оставят следи след себе си...
вторник, 6 април 2010 г.
Дочке
Катька, Катышок, Катюха -
тоненькие пальчики.
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Занята ты долгий день
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или мороженое?"
"Что нарисовал сосед?"
"Елку где поставят?.."
Хорошо, что вам газет -
взрослых -
не читают!..
Смотрите,
остановясь,
на крутую радугу...
Хорошо,
что не для вас
нервный голос радио!
Ожиданье новостей
страшных
и громадных...
Там у вас, в стране детей,
жизнь идет нормально.
Там -
ни слова про войну.
Там о ней -
ни слуха...
Я хочу
в твою страну,
человек-два-уха!
Р.Р.
тоненькие пальчики.
Слушай,
человек-два-уха,
излиянья
папины.
Я хочу,
чтобы тебе
не казалось тайной,
почему отец
теперь
стал сентиментальным.
Чтобы все ты поняла -
не сейчас, так позже.
У тебя
свои дела
и свои заботы.
Занята ты долгий день
сном,
едою,
санками.
Там у вас,
в стране детей,
происходит всякое.
Там у вас,
в стране детей -
мощной и внушительной,-
много всяческих затей,
много разных жителей.
Есть такие -
отойди
и постой в сторонке.
Есть у вас
свои вожди
и свои пророки.
Есть -
совсем как у больших -
ябеды и нытики...
Парк
бесчисленных машин
выстроен по нитке.
Происходят там и тут
обсужденья грозные:
"Что
на третье
дадут:
компот
или мороженое?"
"Что нарисовал сосед?"
"Елку где поставят?.."
Хорошо, что вам газет -
взрослых -
не читают!..
Смотрите,
остановясь,
на крутую радугу...
Хорошо,
что не для вас
нервный голос радио!
Ожиданье новостей
страшных
и громадных...
Там у вас, в стране детей,
жизнь идет нормально.
Там -
ни слова про войну.
Там о ней -
ни слуха...
Я хочу
в твою страну,
человек-два-уха!
Р.Р.
Човек се нуждае от малко
Човек се нуждае от малко -
да търси, да намира.
Като за начало един приятел и враг - един.
Сърце, в което надеждите си да побира.
Човек се нуждае от малко -
Малка пътечка да води далече,
Едно мъничко, приличащо на него човече.
И да е жива мама.
Толкова му трябва на човек -
само да е жива.
Човек се нуждае от малко -
след гръмотевиците - тишина.
Малко хляб и малко вода.
Един живот и смърт - една.
Сутринта нов вестник.
И роднинска връзка със света.
И само една планета - планетата Земя.
Само това.
И междузвезден път,
И една сбъдната мечта.
Това, всъщност, не е много.
Всъщност, дреболия е това.
Невелика награда,
Невисок пиедестал.
Една победа.
Обикновена човещина.
Човек се нуждае от малко -
Просто някой да го чака удома.
По Р.Р
да търси, да намира.
Като за начало един приятел и враг - един.
Сърце, в което надеждите си да побира.
Човек се нуждае от малко -
Малка пътечка да води далече,
Едно мъничко, приличащо на него човече.
И да е жива мама.
Толкова му трябва на човек -
само да е жива.
Човек се нуждае от малко -
след гръмотевиците - тишина.
Малко хляб и малко вода.
Един живот и смърт - една.
Сутринта нов вестник.
И роднинска връзка със света.
И само една планета - планетата Земя.
Само това.
И междузвезден път,
И една сбъдната мечта.
Това, всъщност, не е много.
Всъщност, дреболия е това.
Невелика награда,
Невисок пиедестал.
Една победа.
Обикновена човещина.
Човек се нуждае от малко -
Просто някой да го чака удома.
По Р.Р
сряда, 31 март 2010 г.
It's so different now. And it has never been like this. It's all empty and kind of colorless. Can you imagine me using this word... But I'll say it again... Colorless.
And nice ladies don't share their flowers anymore cause they're not nice anymore. And what's the point in having flowers that don't bring joy?
And it feels like I don't belong here. Like I was never supposed to be this far from your arms, from your heart. But people leave whether I like it or not. And they don't just leave... They leave and leave you colorless. Leave you with nothing, not even a little piece of crayon to start all over again. And people don't keep their promises anymore. And they don't care how you feel... They just do what they have to do and if you're in the way... Then you're out. And after that every big event in your life can be described with one single word... Whatever.
And I used to pray for God to give you back to me. But I'm not sure that's how things work. You have a say in this. Unlike me. No one asked me if I wanted to cry or not. No one gave me the opportunity to choose if I want to be broken or not. I just don't have a say in this. And it's not you who lost. It's all me.
And music doesn't matter, poetry doesn't matter. Nothing does. And you're standing right in front of me and you know all this and you do nothing about it. There's nothing you can do, you'd say but you're wrong. The only one who can do something about anything is you. But you refuse to move your finger. After all, you said sorry and your hands are clean. And I don't even remember how I fall asleep anymore. And I make up stories where I'm good and my life is good. But you're not a puppet I control. Your heart is not a piece of paper I can do whatever I want with. It's free will. It's a free country. And it's a girl tied to you, one you don't see and don't care about, a girl you don't want but drag around. And I find myself not knowing what to pray about. But it's not your direction. You chose another one, a better one. And I'll be on the wrong one. It's fine. Cause I can't imagine you feeling like this because of me. So it's fine cause you're fine. And it doesn't matter that those orange sleeves are all wet and it's not even bed time yet.
And nice ladies don't share their flowers anymore cause they're not nice anymore. And what's the point in having flowers that don't bring joy?
And it feels like I don't belong here. Like I was never supposed to be this far from your arms, from your heart. But people leave whether I like it or not. And they don't just leave... They leave and leave you colorless. Leave you with nothing, not even a little piece of crayon to start all over again. And people don't keep their promises anymore. And they don't care how you feel... They just do what they have to do and if you're in the way... Then you're out. And after that every big event in your life can be described with one single word... Whatever.
And I used to pray for God to give you back to me. But I'm not sure that's how things work. You have a say in this. Unlike me. No one asked me if I wanted to cry or not. No one gave me the opportunity to choose if I want to be broken or not. I just don't have a say in this. And it's not you who lost. It's all me.
And music doesn't matter, poetry doesn't matter. Nothing does. And you're standing right in front of me and you know all this and you do nothing about it. There's nothing you can do, you'd say but you're wrong. The only one who can do something about anything is you. But you refuse to move your finger. After all, you said sorry and your hands are clean. And I don't even remember how I fall asleep anymore. And I make up stories where I'm good and my life is good. But you're not a puppet I control. Your heart is not a piece of paper I can do whatever I want with. It's free will. It's a free country. And it's a girl tied to you, one you don't see and don't care about, a girl you don't want but drag around. And I find myself not knowing what to pray about. But it's not your direction. You chose another one, a better one. And I'll be on the wrong one. It's fine. Cause I can't imagine you feeling like this because of me. So it's fine cause you're fine. And it doesn't matter that those orange sleeves are all wet and it's not even bed time yet.
петък, 26 март 2010 г.
Не сега
Ела нова, променена, по-добра.
Ела тиха и нежно мълчалива.
С цветовете на майската зора,
Ела спокойна, търпелива.
Ела каквато си,
Каквато никога не си била.
Макар от някои изгонена и неприета
Ела при мен с всичката си красота.
Ела единствена, неповторима,
Без да искаш разрешение.
Ела когато никой друг не иска да те има,
Ела без дори капчица съмнение.
Ела свободна, по-голяма,
Ела изчистена от всеки срам.
Без значение какво си преживяла,
А много преживяла си, знам.
Ела открито, без да те е страх.
Хаотична и дива ела.
Старите спомени превърни във прах.
Ела сякаш винаги тук си била.
Ела силна и смела,
Готова всичко да търпиш.
Ела незабравена, съдбата си приела.
Знам, че не можеш дълго да спиш.
Ще те чакам, ти знаеш
И моля те... Ела.
Ела когато пожелаеш.
Ела, любов, но не сега...
Ела тиха и нежно мълчалива.
С цветовете на майската зора,
Ела спокойна, търпелива.
Ела каквато си,
Каквато никога не си била.
Макар от някои изгонена и неприета
Ела при мен с всичката си красота.
Ела единствена, неповторима,
Без да искаш разрешение.
Ела когато никой друг не иска да те има,
Ела без дори капчица съмнение.
Ела свободна, по-голяма,
Ела изчистена от всеки срам.
Без значение какво си преживяла,
А много преживяла си, знам.
Ела открито, без да те е страх.
Хаотична и дива ела.
Старите спомени превърни във прах.
Ела сякаш винаги тук си била.
Ела силна и смела,
Готова всичко да търпиш.
Ела незабравена, съдбата си приела.
Знам, че не можеш дълго да спиш.
Ще те чакам, ти знаеш
И моля те... Ела.
Ела когато пожелаеш.
Ела, любов, но не сега...
четвъртък, 18 март 2010 г.
You Just Can't
Dear personal overachiever,
You can't sign a treaty with perfection because it's always taking refuge up in trees and you refuse to climb.
You can't offer death a cigarette and socialize because it's trying to quit and you don't even smoke.
You can't send life a bouquet of roses and a letter home because you don't know where it lives, just somewhere between heartbeats and rib cages.
Well, You just can't, understand?
You can't change the course of rivers,
you can't seize the cycling grief of lakes.
You can't promise to send the world shaking when you're too afraid of your own damned mistakes.
You say you're a traveler and yet you haven't left home,
you say you're a singer but you haven't risen your voice.
Well, you can't tread oceans without your feet becoming tired and you can't shout a song whose chorus you don't know.
You can't ride on the backs of sparrows or paper airplanes because, let's face it, you're just not as weightless as you try to make yourself believe.
And finally: you can't gain knowledge when you're reading books with faded pages.
Remember, age does not make history. I'm not even sure it makes experience anymore.
Sincerely,
well, you just can't
You can't sign a treaty with perfection because it's always taking refuge up in trees and you refuse to climb.
You can't offer death a cigarette and socialize because it's trying to quit and you don't even smoke.
You can't send life a bouquet of roses and a letter home because you don't know where it lives, just somewhere between heartbeats and rib cages.
Well, You just can't, understand?
You can't change the course of rivers,
you can't seize the cycling grief of lakes.
You can't promise to send the world shaking when you're too afraid of your own damned mistakes.
You say you're a traveler and yet you haven't left home,
you say you're a singer but you haven't risen your voice.
Well, you can't tread oceans without your feet becoming tired and you can't shout a song whose chorus you don't know.
You can't ride on the backs of sparrows or paper airplanes because, let's face it, you're just not as weightless as you try to make yourself believe.
And finally: you can't gain knowledge when you're reading books with faded pages.
Remember, age does not make history. I'm not even sure it makes experience anymore.
Sincerely,
well, you just can't
понеделник, 15 март 2010 г.
1992 - ...
Ten childhood memories later, and you're no longer holding grasshoppers between cupped hands.
You forgot what you named your shadow, why you sword fought with it and pirouetted around grand oaks just to be sure it stayed near.
People snicker when you count on your fingers, they laugh when you count on birthday candle wishes and dandelions breathed goodbye.
People wonder why you hopscotch on railroad tracks when a train is just ten minutes away.
Because it hasn't called out yet, you want to reply.
Because it hasn't whistled and there's still a distance between risk and innocence.
Ten childhood dimes poorer, and you still wonder why you're not rich.
You were once queen of your own sandcastle, you once found a whole dollar by the gutter with no one around to claim it.
Your grandmother gave you a golden chain with a heart-shaped clock dangling from it, and it pumped minutes without veins, made a little ticking sound like a heart beat.
But it never lived, it never breathed, so it wasn't worth a thing.
But around your neck, it turned sunlight to gold, and it was sure pretty.
They could teach you how to tell time, but they could never teach you what to tell it, and so you never knew what to tell your Time Heart when it hummed away minutes
in the morning, kept the hours running through the night.
They could teach you how the Earth keeps spinning and that's how life goes on, but not how it turns nights to gold and days to quicksilver.
They could tell you why the lungs shrivel and why muscles grow weak, but why your favorite childhood pastimes and ambitions grow old remained a mystery.
They could show you how to write your name, but nobody else's, and I think that's
why I've stopped greeting my shadow.
I just let it stay a while and fill the space where something else had once been.
You forgot what you named your shadow, why you sword fought with it and pirouetted around grand oaks just to be sure it stayed near.
People snicker when you count on your fingers, they laugh when you count on birthday candle wishes and dandelions breathed goodbye.
People wonder why you hopscotch on railroad tracks when a train is just ten minutes away.
Because it hasn't called out yet, you want to reply.
Because it hasn't whistled and there's still a distance between risk and innocence.
Ten childhood dimes poorer, and you still wonder why you're not rich.
You were once queen of your own sandcastle, you once found a whole dollar by the gutter with no one around to claim it.
Your grandmother gave you a golden chain with a heart-shaped clock dangling from it, and it pumped minutes without veins, made a little ticking sound like a heart beat.
But it never lived, it never breathed, so it wasn't worth a thing.
But around your neck, it turned sunlight to gold, and it was sure pretty.
They could teach you how to tell time, but they could never teach you what to tell it, and so you never knew what to tell your Time Heart when it hummed away minutes
in the morning, kept the hours running through the night.
They could teach you how the Earth keeps spinning and that's how life goes on, but not how it turns nights to gold and days to quicksilver.
They could tell you why the lungs shrivel and why muscles grow weak, but why your favorite childhood pastimes and ambitions grow old remained a mystery.
They could show you how to write your name, but nobody else's, and I think that's
why I've stopped greeting my shadow.
I just let it stay a while and fill the space where something else had once been.
понеделник, 8 март 2010 г.
If they could speak...
If all those things could speak... And say something, a story... Oh the marvelous stories they would tell...
The bench would tell such funny and romantic stories of how we named it, of all the beautiful promises made in its presence. It would probably mention all the laughter, all the tears, all the compliments.
But it doesn't speak... It's a silent bench in the park, and it's there now and will be there even though we are not there anymore.
The garages... Oh those garages. They have so much to say of how I didn't want to let you go, of how we couldn't say goodbye, of all the long hours just standing right in front of them without talking...
But garages don't speak. And even though we don't stand in front of them anymore... They simply don't care.
The swings. I've never liked them before and now they just gave me all the more reasons not to like them. If they could speak they would tell a sad story of shock and disappointment, broken dreams and a broken heart.
But the noise they make when you swing on them... That's not speaking. That's being rusty.
The snow would tell people the story of first pictures, million hugs and last kisses.
The story of first presents, birthday flowers and goodbyes.
But instead it makes your mouth move slower than it usually does...
The phone wouldn't tell you a story... It would just play again all those conversations full of love, anger, jokes, beautiful words and things left unsaid. It would replay all the sighs, all the smiles it saw, all the bitterness it witnessed, all the support, all the judging, all the apologies.
But it's a machine that does not record those things. And it didn't stop ringing after that night.
The ground would have so many interesting things to share. It took our first steps walking hand in hand, our little steps towards each others hearts, our waiting for vehicles and our sitting in restaurants, our picking of daisies, and also our steps towards the end.
But it holds those things to itself and it won't say a thing.
The pillow has no stories to tell... It just has tears to show and laughter it has kept under the blanket. It has black stains from running make up and smiles printed from happy moments.
But it has promised to never reveal those things to anybody.
The mirror contains so many images and questions. It would show you all the nice clothes, all the "changing-of-mind-at-the-last-minute"s, all the "am-I-pretty?"s, all the sad looks, all the sunshine.
But instead it keeps reflecting. It cannot speak.
The tree would make people listen carefully, telling the story of sitting under it sharing weaknesses, opening hearts, late hour conversations, phone calls from parents, being cold, eating ice-cream.
But it's a quiet object. And even if it could speak it wouldn't say a thing cause it's not there anymore. Neither are we.
The computer would be a hell of a story-teller. With all the secrets shared, all the feelings revealed, the friendship growing, the fights, the things not written, the things deleted, the songs heard, the pictures seen, the smilie-faces sent, the messages from different countries, the "I miss you"s, the "I love you"s, the "I don't love you"s.
But instead it keeps turning on and shutting down, signing in and logging out. And it has nothing to tell anymore.
The box would show you the special objects put in it... The pen, the flower petals, the letters, the notes, the pictures, the rope, the necklace, the sign...
But all that box does is stay on the shelf. And it has a huge collection of dust of all kinds. But no words to share.
The hands... How many things could one hear from them... Shaking because of shyness and being nervous or impatient, being cold and then being inside yours and then being warm again, the nice feeling of being held or kissed, the presents and flowers put in them, the times when they held a smile or wiped tears...
But they can't speak. They don't even have a scar, a reminder of all those years.
And finally...
The girl... Maybe she has stories to tell. Stories of shy looks, secret feelings, happiness and sorrow, forgiveness and forgetfulness, stories of funny topics and conversations that should have never existed, of ideas about surprises and presents, dreams and expectations, disappointments and excitements, road trips, memories, sitting on sofas, watching movies, eating pizzas, going for walks, decisions made together, compromises and selfishness, stubborn words, "sorry"s, imagining future, names...
She has so many things to say...
But you won't hear a thing. She has locked all this in her heart, deep down, in a room with a big locker never to be open...
Because those things are no more. So there's nothing left to say...
The bench would tell such funny and romantic stories of how we named it, of all the beautiful promises made in its presence. It would probably mention all the laughter, all the tears, all the compliments.
But it doesn't speak... It's a silent bench in the park, and it's there now and will be there even though we are not there anymore.
The garages... Oh those garages. They have so much to say of how I didn't want to let you go, of how we couldn't say goodbye, of all the long hours just standing right in front of them without talking...
But garages don't speak. And even though we don't stand in front of them anymore... They simply don't care.
The swings. I've never liked them before and now they just gave me all the more reasons not to like them. If they could speak they would tell a sad story of shock and disappointment, broken dreams and a broken heart.
But the noise they make when you swing on them... That's not speaking. That's being rusty.
The snow would tell people the story of first pictures, million hugs and last kisses.
The story of first presents, birthday flowers and goodbyes.
But instead it makes your mouth move slower than it usually does...
The phone wouldn't tell you a story... It would just play again all those conversations full of love, anger, jokes, beautiful words and things left unsaid. It would replay all the sighs, all the smiles it saw, all the bitterness it witnessed, all the support, all the judging, all the apologies.
But it's a machine that does not record those things. And it didn't stop ringing after that night.
The ground would have so many interesting things to share. It took our first steps walking hand in hand, our little steps towards each others hearts, our waiting for vehicles and our sitting in restaurants, our picking of daisies, and also our steps towards the end.
But it holds those things to itself and it won't say a thing.
The pillow has no stories to tell... It just has tears to show and laughter it has kept under the blanket. It has black stains from running make up and smiles printed from happy moments.
But it has promised to never reveal those things to anybody.
The mirror contains so many images and questions. It would show you all the nice clothes, all the "changing-of-mind-at-the-last-minute"s, all the "am-I-pretty?"s, all the sad looks, all the sunshine.
But instead it keeps reflecting. It cannot speak.
The tree would make people listen carefully, telling the story of sitting under it sharing weaknesses, opening hearts, late hour conversations, phone calls from parents, being cold, eating ice-cream.
But it's a quiet object. And even if it could speak it wouldn't say a thing cause it's not there anymore. Neither are we.
The computer would be a hell of a story-teller. With all the secrets shared, all the feelings revealed, the friendship growing, the fights, the things not written, the things deleted, the songs heard, the pictures seen, the smilie-faces sent, the messages from different countries, the "I miss you"s, the "I love you"s, the "I don't love you"s.
But instead it keeps turning on and shutting down, signing in and logging out. And it has nothing to tell anymore.
The box would show you the special objects put in it... The pen, the flower petals, the letters, the notes, the pictures, the rope, the necklace, the sign...
But all that box does is stay on the shelf. And it has a huge collection of dust of all kinds. But no words to share.
The hands... How many things could one hear from them... Shaking because of shyness and being nervous or impatient, being cold and then being inside yours and then being warm again, the nice feeling of being held or kissed, the presents and flowers put in them, the times when they held a smile or wiped tears...
But they can't speak. They don't even have a scar, a reminder of all those years.
And finally...
The girl... Maybe she has stories to tell. Stories of shy looks, secret feelings, happiness and sorrow, forgiveness and forgetfulness, stories of funny topics and conversations that should have never existed, of ideas about surprises and presents, dreams and expectations, disappointments and excitements, road trips, memories, sitting on sofas, watching movies, eating pizzas, going for walks, decisions made together, compromises and selfishness, stubborn words, "sorry"s, imagining future, names...
She has so many things to say...
But you won't hear a thing. She has locked all this in her heart, deep down, in a room with a big locker never to be open...
Because those things are no more. So there's nothing left to say...
четвъртък, 4 март 2010 г.
Момиче и приказка
-Разкажи ми приказка, Принцесо...
-Ще ти разкажа, мъничко момиче...
Но не приказка за любов и щастие, залези и бели рокли,
не за радостни сърца...
Ще ти разкажа истината аз момиче...
За това как Любовта и Болката вървят ръка за ръка...
Ще ти разкажа как имало едно време красавица наречена Любов
и влюбила се тя в младеж
потаен, тих, винаги смълчан и тъжен,
понякога жесток и безмилостен, понякога ридаещ...
Казвал се той Болка...
Не могла Любовта да си обясни сама защо обичала го тъй...
Но без него не знаела как да диша, да живее...
Не били най-добрата двойка...
Тя тъй нежна, мила, красива, всеотдайна,
а той тъй жесток към другите,
не щадил дори и младите - всички наранявал с думи, мисли и дела.
Любовта не харесвала това, но без него просто не могла.
И така вървели заедно, един до друг, ръка за ръка...
Верни един на друг били винаги ...
Там където била Любовта
не закъснявала и Болката.
Когато Любовта дарявала някого със щастие и радост
идвал нейният любим
и разрушавал всичко, което тя градяла ден и нощ без спир.
Не искала Любовта хората да страдат, но не могла без него вечер очи да притвори
Нито сутрин без него да ги отвори...
И затова пред щастието на хората избрала си тя собственото...
Затова, мъничко момиче,
наивно,
глупаво,
красиво...
Видиш ли щастие в нечии очи,
почувстваш ли любов в сърцето си...
Бягай, мъничко момиче,
колкото можеш по-далеч.
Помни колко егоистична е Любовта,
обрекла хората на тъга за да може тя да бъде влюбена...
Помни моята приказка...
Помни, за да можеш когато пораснеш
на други мънички момичета да я разкажеш.
Помни, че там където Любовта е, там е и Болката.
-Обещавам ти, Принцесо...
Ще разкажа приказката аз на всички...
Но няма да им казвам да бягат когато видят щастие,
нито да се крият видят ли Любов...
Не си разбрала приказката ти, Принцесо...
Любовта не е егоистка...
Тя избрала Болката за свой спътник
за да спаси хората от мъка.
За да може където Болка разрушава
да поправи всичко Любовта.
И обричайки себе си на горест и страдания
Любовта дала надежда на всички.
За да знаят големи, стари, мънички
Че дори и плач да пренощува
Със утринната зора ще дойде радостта...
Ще разкажа аз, че Любовта и Болката заедно вървят, ръка за ръка...
Така че видят ли някъде Болка... да знаят... наблизо е Любовта.
понеделник, 8 февруари 2010 г.
I'll be a silent nobody
A few days ago a friend of mine asked a simple question... "Who are you?"
And I said: "The stupid girl who got dumped and still loves the guy who dumped her"
I define myself with you. You loving me means I'm good and happy... But you leaving me means I'm not enough.
While I was praying on Sunday a friend of mine came up to me and told me those simple words which at first I didn't understand... "You are a servant of God". What? Sounded like another cliche... But then I realized what it meant. It meant that I'm not "The stupid girl who got dumped and still loves the guy who dumped her". I am so much more than that. I'm not my own. I'm not yours. I'm His.
And I write all those things here, hoping that you will read them because I cannot talk to you... I don't want to be annoying and disturb you when you clearly don't want me. You just became so distant, I feel like I don't know you anymore. Tanya told me once, a looong time ago... that you are the kind of guy who would choose his way and walk till the end. I guess she was wrong. But I'm not blaming you. I know you were honest, you were good to me, and you loved me and you didn't plan, and maybe didn't want this to happen. But it did. So I can't change it. I can only silently love you and pray for you. I'll try not to be in your way. I'll be silent and patient, I won't advise, I won't try to tell you what to do nor how to do it. I'll leave you in God's hands, hoping that He's gonna take good care of you and give you what you need. I promise I'll be nobody if I have to, if you want me to... Just as long as you're ok... And me? I'll be fine... Eventually... One day... I hope...
I am trying hard to be with God and let Him love me and heal me. And even though I cannot feel Him, even though sometimes pain overcomes... I will keep on trying. And God does not turn His back on those who rely on Him. He will not ignore the voice that is calling for His help. So even if answers and healing come in 10 years... Fine. I'll be waiting and praying. I don't know how I am going to live, I don't know what the future holds, I don't know who I'm supposed to be, nor where... I don't know if I should keep loving you and waiting for you... I simply have no idea. But I know one thing for sure...
Even if the answers never come I will still be waiting on the Lord...
And I said: "The stupid girl who got dumped and still loves the guy who dumped her"
I define myself with you. You loving me means I'm good and happy... But you leaving me means I'm not enough.
While I was praying on Sunday a friend of mine came up to me and told me those simple words which at first I didn't understand... "You are a servant of God". What? Sounded like another cliche... But then I realized what it meant. It meant that I'm not "The stupid girl who got dumped and still loves the guy who dumped her". I am so much more than that. I'm not my own. I'm not yours. I'm His.
And I write all those things here, hoping that you will read them because I cannot talk to you... I don't want to be annoying and disturb you when you clearly don't want me. You just became so distant, I feel like I don't know you anymore. Tanya told me once, a looong time ago... that you are the kind of guy who would choose his way and walk till the end. I guess she was wrong. But I'm not blaming you. I know you were honest, you were good to me, and you loved me and you didn't plan, and maybe didn't want this to happen. But it did. So I can't change it. I can only silently love you and pray for you. I'll try not to be in your way. I'll be silent and patient, I won't advise, I won't try to tell you what to do nor how to do it. I'll leave you in God's hands, hoping that He's gonna take good care of you and give you what you need. I promise I'll be nobody if I have to, if you want me to... Just as long as you're ok... And me? I'll be fine... Eventually... One day... I hope...
I am trying hard to be with God and let Him love me and heal me. And even though I cannot feel Him, even though sometimes pain overcomes... I will keep on trying. And God does not turn His back on those who rely on Him. He will not ignore the voice that is calling for His help. So even if answers and healing come in 10 years... Fine. I'll be waiting and praying. I don't know how I am going to live, I don't know what the future holds, I don't know who I'm supposed to be, nor where... I don't know if I should keep loving you and waiting for you... I simply have no idea. But I know one thing for sure...
Even if the answers never come I will still be waiting on the Lord...
четвъртък, 4 февруари 2010 г.
The past 2 months
Oh my, I think I'm gonna explode with all these feeling inside of me. Life got so hard and complicated... but that's not the real problem.
I've been trying to do something I can't do. And so I thought... maybe if I take those feelings out, if I write it honestly... it might help. So maybe being honest with yourself is one of the first steps... So here I go...
I miss you so much. And not the physical aspect. I miss you, YOU! I've been trying to forget about you, I tried to move on, focus on God... And I can't do it. You're all I think about. And we don't talk anymore, you don't care anymore, you don't want to know what's going on with me... And it hurts so bad. I fell ever more in love with you. Remembering everything that happened... I realized how deep and real my love for you is. And I wish I could fix things, I wish I could go back in time and try not to do all those things that drew you away. I wish I could be someone you could love forever.
I'm going to keep on trying to focus on God and maybe forget you.
I don't want to sound mean... but I gave you all I had, I loved you with all my heart, I loved you even when you were broken, I stood by you every single day, supported you, tried to help you, I prayed for you, I forgave and forgot, I sacrificed, I ignored my pride and my ego for you, I listened to you, I cared about you, I was faithful and honest, not always right but I was there for you every time you needed me, I loved you even when you hated yourself, I fought for you even when I didn't have the strength to fight for myself... I did all this out of love and I don't regret doing it... But if after all this you could still walk away so easily and forget about me... Then maybe you're not the one.
I know you apologized... But I didn't need your apology... I needed you to stay and fight for us. And you didn't do it. So I'll try my best to forget. It won't be easy, I know. I realized lately that most of my dreams were somehow connected to you... So basically, I need new ones. I need you so badly. So I don't know how am I going to live without you... All I know is that I'm gonna have to learn. Cause clearly, you're not coming back.
I put away the pictures, the presents, the letters... But that doesn't erase you from my heart. And I pray that God may help me get through this and still believe in love and trust people.
I love how ridiculous you are sometimes. I love how passionate you get when it comes to playing drums. I love to watch you pray, how you bow your head and close your eyes to talk to God. I love how you hold on to the things you believe in. I love how caring you are to your friends. I love how you keep walking even when your legs are failing you. I love how easy it is to talk to you. I love how you see me... Or how you used to see me, you don't even look anymore. I just love everything there is in you. And I hope you find someone else who's gonna love you like that, someone you're gonna love back. I'm not one of a kind, I'm not perfect, I'm not the most amazing girl in the world... But one thing about me is quite unique... The way that when I love someone I love them with all my heart, truly, honestly. I hope you find that one day.
I've been trying to do something I can't do. And so I thought... maybe if I take those feelings out, if I write it honestly... it might help. So maybe being honest with yourself is one of the first steps... So here I go...
I miss you so much. And not the physical aspect. I miss you, YOU! I've been trying to forget about you, I tried to move on, focus on God... And I can't do it. You're all I think about. And we don't talk anymore, you don't care anymore, you don't want to know what's going on with me... And it hurts so bad. I fell ever more in love with you. Remembering everything that happened... I realized how deep and real my love for you is. And I wish I could fix things, I wish I could go back in time and try not to do all those things that drew you away. I wish I could be someone you could love forever.
I'm going to keep on trying to focus on God and maybe forget you.
I don't want to sound mean... but I gave you all I had, I loved you with all my heart, I loved you even when you were broken, I stood by you every single day, supported you, tried to help you, I prayed for you, I forgave and forgot, I sacrificed, I ignored my pride and my ego for you, I listened to you, I cared about you, I was faithful and honest, not always right but I was there for you every time you needed me, I loved you even when you hated yourself, I fought for you even when I didn't have the strength to fight for myself... I did all this out of love and I don't regret doing it... But if after all this you could still walk away so easily and forget about me... Then maybe you're not the one.
I know you apologized... But I didn't need your apology... I needed you to stay and fight for us. And you didn't do it. So I'll try my best to forget. It won't be easy, I know. I realized lately that most of my dreams were somehow connected to you... So basically, I need new ones. I need you so badly. So I don't know how am I going to live without you... All I know is that I'm gonna have to learn. Cause clearly, you're not coming back.
I put away the pictures, the presents, the letters... But that doesn't erase you from my heart. And I pray that God may help me get through this and still believe in love and trust people.
I love how ridiculous you are sometimes. I love how passionate you get when it comes to playing drums. I love to watch you pray, how you bow your head and close your eyes to talk to God. I love how you hold on to the things you believe in. I love how caring you are to your friends. I love how you keep walking even when your legs are failing you. I love how easy it is to talk to you. I love how you see me... Or how you used to see me, you don't even look anymore. I just love everything there is in you. And I hope you find someone else who's gonna love you like that, someone you're gonna love back. I'm not one of a kind, I'm not perfect, I'm not the most amazing girl in the world... But one thing about me is quite unique... The way that when I love someone I love them with all my heart, truly, honestly. I hope you find that one day.
вторник, 2 февруари 2010 г.
Кой?
Кой позволи сълзи да има във очите ти, момиче?
Кой сложи всички теготи на твойте малки рамене?
Кой видя скритата тъга и те подмина?
Кой събори те и остави те на колене?
Кой тръгна си когато рушеше се света?
Кой остави те сама, разбита, уморена?
Кой мечтаеше горещо, но не бе ти негова мечта?
Кой имаше спасение, а те остави неспасена?
Кой тръгна си без да се обръща?
Кой разбити мечтите ти остави?
Кой реши да не те целува, да не те прегръща?
Кой успя бъдеще без теб да си представи?
Кой пожела да си отиде веднъж прекрачил твоя праг?
Кой обикна те повърхностно, за малко?
Кой вместо да те пази избра да ти е враг?
Кой нарани те тъй без да му е жалко?
Кой не остави отворена за теб врата?
Кой толкова бързо и лесно те забрави?
Кой намери те сама и подари ти още самота?
Кой разруши те и не остана за да те поправи?
Кой избра без тебе да се смее?
Кой в ръцете си не те побра?
Кой научи се и без тебе да живее?
Кой намери друга, по-добра?
Кой пожела си искрена любов, но теб не пожела?
Кой погледна те и не разбра каква си?
Кой отряза твойте приказни крила?
Кой можеше да избере... и избра си да те мрази?
Кой волята ти във вериги окова?
Кой грижи вложи в дните безметежни?
Кой не се влюби в теб, в твоята душа?
Кой отказа ръчичките ти малки, детски, нежни?
А всъщност...
Някой изтри ли сълзите ти, момиче?
Някой махна ли теготите от твойте малки рамене?
Някой видя ли скритата тъга без да те подмине?
Някой повдигна ли те от твойте колене?
Кой сложи всички теготи на твойте малки рамене?
Кой видя скритата тъга и те подмина?
Кой събори те и остави те на колене?
Кой тръгна си когато рушеше се света?
Кой остави те сама, разбита, уморена?
Кой мечтаеше горещо, но не бе ти негова мечта?
Кой имаше спасение, а те остави неспасена?
Кой тръгна си без да се обръща?
Кой разбити мечтите ти остави?
Кой реши да не те целува, да не те прегръща?
Кой успя бъдеще без теб да си представи?
Кой пожела да си отиде веднъж прекрачил твоя праг?
Кой обикна те повърхностно, за малко?
Кой вместо да те пази избра да ти е враг?
Кой нарани те тъй без да му е жалко?
Кой не остави отворена за теб врата?
Кой толкова бързо и лесно те забрави?
Кой намери те сама и подари ти още самота?
Кой разруши те и не остана за да те поправи?
Кой избра без тебе да се смее?
Кой в ръцете си не те побра?
Кой научи се и без тебе да живее?
Кой намери друга, по-добра?
Кой пожела си искрена любов, но теб не пожела?
Кой погледна те и не разбра каква си?
Кой отряза твойте приказни крила?
Кой можеше да избере... и избра си да те мрази?
Кой волята ти във вериги окова?
Кой грижи вложи в дните безметежни?
Кой не се влюби в теб, в твоята душа?
Кой отказа ръчичките ти малки, детски, нежни?
А всъщност...
Някой изтри ли сълзите ти, момиче?
Някой махна ли теготите от твойте малки рамене?
Някой видя ли скритата тъга без да те подмине?
Някой повдигна ли те от твойте колене?
понеделник, 1 февруари 2010 г.
Момиче и свят
Там, в дъното на гардероба, имам аз една кутийка.
Шарена, красива... мъничко вълшебна, може да се каже.
В нея има всичко за да си направя мой свят.
Отворих я и нахлуха в мен мечти, зелени, с мирис на трева.
Няколко капки мляко и ето го Млечния път.
Извадих мъничко памук, смесих го със захар, сложих розова боя...
Това са облаците на планетата Земя.
Магичен сребърен прашец посипах,
направих си звезди
за да може морякът път да намери към дома.
Сложих и счупено копче за луна.
А през деня има кръгло топче,
слънце ще е то,
по моя часовник изгрява,
залязва когато позволя.
Звездите малко ми се сториха...
Затова посипах още, а нали знаеш, никога не са излишни.
Мъничко зелен конец ще свърши работа - имаме трева,
а мънистата са за цветя.
А когато омръзне ми лятото и ми се прииска студ,
за да имам оправдание да се гушна в някого...
за тези времена имам малко сол.
Посипвам я и ето - бял снежец покрива моя свят.
За дъжд имам аз сълзи, колкото поискаш.
И когато ми е тъжно, мрачно и самотно ще вали и ще вали.
Докато не реша да спре.
После разбира се дъга ще има, без дъгата дъждът нищо не е.
Те си знаят, че един без друг не могат, но са твърде горди за да си признаят.
В моя свят няма пътни знаци, няма отговори...
Просто защото всеки знае накъде да ходи и защото няма там въпроси.
Изрязах от хартия много сърчица в случай, че някой закопнее за любов.
А със сешоара правя вятър... за да брули клони, шалчета, коси...
Или просто защото без вятър не може. Вятърът прави света да се върти.
И така създадох този свят, приказен, вълшебен, само мой.
Как искам да остана,
тук живота си да построя,
тук със сърцето си да обичам,
градина да си засадя,
да плувам в локви от дъждовна вода,
а когато искам - да ридая, да се смея, глупаво да гледам,
по улиците мои.
По тези улици които нямат пътни знаци да танцувам
боса, дива и красива.
И няма да знам нито един отговор...
Ще оставя вятъра да излекува всичко,
дъждът сълзите да измие.
Но ако случайно и този свят стане зъл и неприветлив,
ако гневът замести усмивката,
ако цветята увяхнат и глобално затопляне разтопи моя сняг...
Тогава ще си направя гардероб...
И там, в дъното на гардероба,
ще си имам аз една кутиийка.
Шерена, красива... със сигурност мъничко вълшебна...
неделя, 17 януари 2010 г.
Да бъдат въпросите...
Не мислиш ли, че е глупаво... Аз не знам. Имам нужда някой да ми каже дали е глупаво. Кое? Сега ще ви кажа...
Питам дали е глупаво да чакаш, когато не си сигурен дали трябва да чакаш. Ами ако чакаш, чакаш дълго и търпеливо, с очакване и мечтаейки... И после дойде глупавият момент когато осъзнаеш, че е било грешка да чакаш... И то не само чакането е проблемът. Да пазиш или да не пазиш? Това е въпросът. А не да бъдеш или да не бъдеш както е казал колегата Шекспир. То бъденето се подразбира. Искаш, не искаш - СИ. И ОК. Ти си... А после? Трябва ли да пазиш онова, което не е само твое? Онова което не би трябвало да пазиш сам? Трябва ли да го пазиш или просто да го оставиш да си тръгне? Ами ако прекараш половината си живот в чакане и пазене и животът ти се окаже само това... Чакане и пазене?
Толкова много неща искам да кажа, да попитам. Но когато имаш толкова много въпроси в главата, точно в този момент когато си мислиш, че тя няма да може да понесе още един въпрос... Точно тогава идва още един въпрос. Той влиза с взлом в ума и застава начело на другите въпроси. Когато имаш толкова много въпроси, главният въпрос е кой ще те чуе, кой ще отговори на всички въпроси?
Кой ще погледне в очите ти и ще разбере какво се случва в сърцето? Кой ще намери красота в сълзите ти, в хаоса на косата... Кой ще те държи за ръка, когато целият ти свят се руши и ще нашепва "Нищо, нов ще построим". Кой ще се наведе за да завърже обувката ти когато коремът ти закрива краката? Чии думи ще съдържат нищо друго освен истина? Кой ще ти даде втори шанс, и трети, и после още един? Кой ще ти позволи да поправиш грешката? Кой ще знае, че си тотално жалък и глупав и пак ще обича всичко в теб? За кого ще си достатъчен точно какъвто си и няма да има нужда да се променяш? Кой ще бъде този, когото няма да се налага да впечатляваш? И няма да се чудиш дали утре пак ще е тук. Кой ще влезе и ще затвори вратата зад себе си, ще я заключи и ще унищожи ключа, така че никога да не може да излезе? Кой няма да иска да излезе? Кой ще остане, когато всички останали в подобна ситуация биха избягали? Кой ще знае достатъчно за теб, че да иска да те опознае още и още? Кой ще ви обича? И не само теб или себе си... Кой ще обича това което сте, това което сте когато сте заедно?
Да те чакам ли?
Питам дали е глупаво да чакаш, когато не си сигурен дали трябва да чакаш. Ами ако чакаш, чакаш дълго и търпеливо, с очакване и мечтаейки... И после дойде глупавият момент когато осъзнаеш, че е било грешка да чакаш... И то не само чакането е проблемът. Да пазиш или да не пазиш? Това е въпросът. А не да бъдеш или да не бъдеш както е казал колегата Шекспир. То бъденето се подразбира. Искаш, не искаш - СИ. И ОК. Ти си... А после? Трябва ли да пазиш онова, което не е само твое? Онова което не би трябвало да пазиш сам? Трябва ли да го пазиш или просто да го оставиш да си тръгне? Ами ако прекараш половината си живот в чакане и пазене и животът ти се окаже само това... Чакане и пазене?
Толкова много неща искам да кажа, да попитам. Но когато имаш толкова много въпроси в главата, точно в този момент когато си мислиш, че тя няма да може да понесе още един въпрос... Точно тогава идва още един въпрос. Той влиза с взлом в ума и застава начело на другите въпроси. Когато имаш толкова много въпроси, главният въпрос е кой ще те чуе, кой ще отговори на всички въпроси?
Кой ще погледне в очите ти и ще разбере какво се случва в сърцето? Кой ще намери красота в сълзите ти, в хаоса на косата... Кой ще те държи за ръка, когато целият ти свят се руши и ще нашепва "Нищо, нов ще построим". Кой ще се наведе за да завърже обувката ти когато коремът ти закрива краката? Чии думи ще съдържат нищо друго освен истина? Кой ще ти даде втори шанс, и трети, и после още един? Кой ще ти позволи да поправиш грешката? Кой ще знае, че си тотално жалък и глупав и пак ще обича всичко в теб? За кого ще си достатъчен точно какъвто си и няма да има нужда да се променяш? Кой ще бъде този, когото няма да се налага да впечатляваш? И няма да се чудиш дали утре пак ще е тук. Кой ще влезе и ще затвори вратата зад себе си, ще я заключи и ще унищожи ключа, така че никога да не може да излезе? Кой няма да иска да излезе? Кой ще остане, когато всички останали в подобна ситуация биха избягали? Кой ще знае достатъчно за теб, че да иска да те опознае още и още? Кой ще ви обича? И не само теб или себе си... Кой ще обича това което сте, това което сте когато сте заедно?
Да те чакам ли?
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