experiments on my heart muscles: 2 cognacs, 2 or 3 cups of coffee, 1 gin and tonic, 1 alcohol energy drink, beer with a little champagne from the ladies. last but not least: our lovely Mary-Jane ”asta trebuie de-nvățat pe de rost ca imnul României când te duci să iai pașaportu” ~ Cristina
Today it was so warm when I woke up that I felt like I was walking on the belly of the sun. I made myself some coffee and toast and willed myself to go to the laundromat. Our machine is broken and so this has become a weekly ritual. I am down to pyjama shorts and a grey fleece jumper. Today I lay in the sun on a small patch of grass and thought how lovely it was that I wasn’t breaking into an allergic reaction. I have bad allergies and I can’t recall a happy spring. So many people would have lounged on the beach or taken naps or fallen in love today. I’ve been thinking a lot about love. Increasingly it’s becoming a hopeless venture. It takes an incredible amount of patience to really sit down with someone and want to talk to them, to really understand how they tick. We pretend to have this with our friends, but this fails inevitably. There will always be collective memories that they will share with each other from which you are excluded. Isn’t that funny? Memories are only beautiful when you have been a part of making them. If you’re leaning in from the outside, nothing makes sense and no one really wants to explain it to you. It’s too complicated to explain. We lose each other as the hours pass like water between our fingers, our stories no longer connecting. I’ve never been good at friends because I’ve never really made ones who will stick. It’s fair enough. We are consumed with distraction, so much that it’s easy to forget to live within the happiness of a moment. Love is difficult because it makes you see everything. Every single last flaw. It hollows you out and you make room for another person to inhabit your soul. I’m too young, not because of a number but because my soul is too young. I’m not ready to hollow myself out and let someone else in like that. I thought love happened when the boy that I was with was happy. I thought that letting him have his way with my mind, body, soul — I thought that was love. I’m too young. Because that’s an acidic corruption. That’s what destroyed me. I’ve built myself a fort of thorns and poison. I’ll let myself heal and then maybe the walls will dissolve. Until then I’ll enjoy days like these, when the sun seems soaked in honey.
I am writing these poems From inside a lion, And it’s rather dark in here. So please excuse the handwriting Which may not be too clear. But this afternoon by the lion’s cage I’m afraid I got too near. And I’m writing these lines From inside a lion, And it’s rather dark in here.