kai nerašau skaitau ką jūs rašot

Girti pokalbiai apie jausmus manęs niekad prie nieko gero neprivedė. O kam nors yra buvę kitaip? Visada tai baigiasi arba pykčiu, arba ašaromis, kartais abiem. Retai pašnekovai patenkinti būna ir laimingi išsiskirsto. Niekad neteko girtai išlieti širdies, o rytą sutikti drauge su pašnekovu apsikeičiant šypsenomis.

Per daug emocionalūs mes tada būnam. Ne vien dėl to, kad girti. Savo duoklę atiduoda ir tamsa, nuovargis ir tas nežmoniškas naktinių pokalbių romantizavimas.  Girti pokalbiai nesibaigia taip, kaip planavai ar norėjai. Ir žodžius kartais pasirenkam ne tuos, kuriuos derėtų. Kandesni jie būna, tiesa dažnai būna ignoruojama, netiki tuo, kuo nenori tikėti, užsispyrimas laikytis savo būna daug didesnis, nei kitose situacijose. Nepamirškim ir to, kad tada ypač nesinori išeiti namo pralaimėtoju, nors ir tiesą sakiusiu. Ir ta tiesa tada kitaip paliečia sielą. Giliau.

and i know, from watching my friends and seeing their panic and terror when something broke, that not only were not nearly enough children told this thing, many children were punished in place of being reassured

and thats heartbreaking

so heres the words from my mom that i was always told, and theyre the same words that anyone who never got to hear them should hear now, courtesy of my mom, who has repeated those same words to many a friend of mine and now to you

if i ever broke anything, the first words out of her mouth would always be and have always been, “are you hurt?” 

i would say no

she would say, “thats okay, then”

and i would ask why

My grandmother owns crystal bowls that have been passed down to her from her grandmother. Being a family with Jewish heritage in Austria, every single piece of family history we own is basically a treasure in itself. I was already an adult when she allowed me to take one of them home with me, of course only after I swore several oaths to keep it safe. I can go months and years without breaking a single dish, but lo and behold, it takes two weeks and a split second of not paying attention, and suddenly that crystal bowl, that’s worth more to my grandmother than the entire rest of her furniture, goes flying and shatters into a million pieces. I swear I watched for what felt like an hour as that thing dropped, turned around itself and finally crashed in a spectacular impact. Anyway, it’s completely beyond repair, and I’m freaking out because my grandmother will murder me. Only, she will not, because even worse, she’s going to be fucking heartbroken and so, so disappointed with me she won’t even find it within herself to murder me. But, you gotta do what you gotta do - not being able to face her while confessing, I call her, in tears, apologizing a hundred times before she finally goes: “Gigi, calm down now, what happened??” “*sobbing* I- I broke your grandma’s bohooohooowl -” And my grandmother, bless that woman, starts laughing hysterically. She’s laughing so much I think, I must have broken her, that’s it, she’s lost her marbles now and it’s my fault, until she wheezes out: “Gigi that bowl survived two world wars and the Nazis but not a month in your kitchen!” and of course I fucking lost it too at that point. That’s how I learned, that in the end, it’s really all about perspective.