Little Poor Me.

Still in love with this season.

Mi-ar fi usor sa spun ca era diferita de totii oamenii pe care ii cunoscusem pana atunci,ca era persoana care ar fi putut schimba valurile marii in praf de stele,ca era copilul care mi-a furat mai multe zambete decat orisicare strain care a trecut pe drumul vietii mele,dar ea era mai mult de atat,mai mult decat un copil,mai mult decat un suflet pierdut in mare. Ea era un fel de combinatie stranie dintre un roman de dragoste si polinoamele de la matematica.Era complicata,era singura in marea aceea de oameni in care se avanta zilnic.Era fata cu sfaturi,pustoaica cu castile in urechi si soricelul de la biblioteca.Avea un tupeu mai mare decat ea,dar se inrosea instantaneu cand ii spuneai cuvinte frumoase.Era un copil care iti punea zambetul pe buze,era fata care oferea cele mai calde imbratisari si cele mai dragute fraze pe care cineva ti le-ar fi putut spune. Avea o contradictie in suflet.Azi era bine,radea cu gura pana la urechi si nu aveai cum sa nu zambesti cand ii vedeai sclipirea din ochi,iar maine devenea o umbra,iar sclipirea din ochi i se stingea.Azi iti zambea si se stramba cand nu intelegea ceva,iar maine devenea irascibila.Azi era un copil,maine un adult cu probleme. Era o fire vulcanica,cu o fasie de sensibilitate in inima.Avea niste ochi ciudati,genul acela de ochi care semanau cu marea in zorii zilei si niste strari sufletesti care iti dadeau ameteli.Niciodata nu simtea un singur lucru,intotdeauna mai era ceva care o facea sa simta mai mult decat putea duce. Nu am reusit niciodata sa o cunosc,intotdeauna avea ceva care te facea sa nu intelegi ce ai in fata ta,un copil,un adult,un adolescent pierdut in noapte.Nu am reusit sa o cunosc,dar de cateva ori am reusit sa o inteleg,sa ii inteleg durerea,pasiunile si fericirea. La urma urmei era ca si matematica.Nu am fost niciodata in stare sa inteleg cu ce se mananca,care e relatie dintre cifre si litere,dar de putine ori reusit sa inteleg cateva rupturi de pagina,care au contat mai mult decat toata formulele care iti rasturnau sentimentele cand le vedeai asternute pe foaie.

““Admit it. You aren’t like them. You’re not even close. You may occasionally dress yourself up as one of them, watch the same mindless television shows as they do, maybe even eat the same fast food sometimes. But it seems that the more you try to fit in, the more you feel like an outsider, watching the “normal people” as they go about their automatic existences. For every time you say club passwords like “Have a nice day” and “Weather’s awful today, eh?”, you yearn inside to say forbidden things like “Tell me something that makes you cry” or “What do you think deja vu is for?”. Face it, you even want to talk to that girl in the elevator. But what if that girl in the elevator (and the balding man who walks past your cubicle at work) are thinking the same thing? Who knows what you might learn from taking a chance on conversation with a stranger? Everyone carries a piece of the puzzle. Nobody comes into your life by mere coincidence. Trust your instincts. Do the unexpected. Find the others…””

“It is a lonely feeling when someone you care about becomes a stranger.”

“There are all kinds of addicts, I guess. We all have pain. And we all look for ways to make the pain go away.”

““There’s no need to wait for the bad things and bullshit to be over. Change now. Love now. Live now. Don’t wait for people to give you permission to live, because they won’t.””