Masks....

In a World with masks, I left mine away in the moment I reached happiness...It was a flash of a second, full of colors and sounds that merged together is the most beautiful dance of butterflies. It was than when lips touched for just some seconds...I dropped in that moment everything that was covering me and my inside came out, without shame. No timidity, no shame, naked in front of you, ready to touch every star with my finger tips.
You forgot to tell me it will burn. You forgot that I am human and I get hurt. I followed blindly every step of yours, ready to catch you whenever you were about to fall...You made me believe I were more powerful than I thought. That I can move mountains and skies and seas alone, for you. You showed me clear skies just to teach me that there are also black clouds. You showed me the Sun, just to teach me that it can burn....You proved me HAPPINESS just to make me feel the SORROW. In all its states.
But now I am searching for my mask...I am starting all over again...Only that now, I completed the "scheme of feelings" a human can have. Now I know that tears can leave deep cuts on your face....Now I know that there is an ending to everything, no matter if you want it or not.
For a moment I felt how I stopped but the time continued to run...faster and faster....Few more months and I will be at that point in life when I will look back and see that nothing was as I thought it would be...But also, there will be almost one year since I took my time to look back, to see where I went wrong and were I was right. One year by myself....in a new World that my soul rejects. I feel pulses of change. I feel myself growing up too fast...I am letting go...I am accepting my failure and my success as they are...
In the end...I guess that in a way or another you played the most important role in this ... movie...but you will never reach to see the end of it. At least not as an actor but as a spectator.
...The lights are going off at the end of the play,  the actors align themselves, and then the yellow and white lights will increase slowly for the applause....This time, I will not be on the stage either...this time, I will just play with the colors....

The future is something which everyone reaches at the rate of 60 minutes an hour, whatever he does, whoever he is.  - C.S Lewis

Frames...

Dust off....pick the old, heavy book and open it....The paper butterfly falls in front of your feet...You raise the right hand with the book on it, and easily lean forward to pick it up with your left hand...The book slips from your hand and falls on the dusty, wooden floor, making a strange, squeezed noise...With your finger tips, you touch the wings of the butterfly...Unequal...Wrong..."I couldn't make even a good paper-butterfly...Damn"...You put it in your fist and break it....You throw it away in the corner of the old attic...letting your head fall in your palms, holding back from crying, you sit on the floor..."This was so wrong...."

The first contact of the skin with the sea must be perfect...I get closer and closer...with small steps, eyes closed, just hearing the waves and feeling the sand under my feet, smelling the wind...I feel the first drop of water...I go further...Soon, I start going down...I lay back and watch the stars, trying to trace lines between them, make connections, reinvent the Universe. I am drawing maps and I am trying to reach you, but apparently, however I would make the combination, there is no way to go back .... I left the paper butterfly in an old book in the dusty attic....I know that one day you will find it....

You stand up, look around and start descending the stairs...I start swimming....As you get further away from the house, I swim further away from the shore. The Sun is starting to send spots of light, calling me back to the shore...The moon is up on your sky...you lay back in your big and empty bad...I step on the sand again..."If there is no more of you, there can't be anymore of me..."
"All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible" - T.E. Lawrence

The hardest thing...

...starts in the morning when I wake up at 5 a.m and there is nobody to say "Good morning" to.
....is during the day when no sms comes to confirm that you are thinking of me as much as I am thinking of you.
....is when at 3.30 p.m I don't get any "hey! I'm home!"
....is at night when you are not there to "gaze" at until I fall asleep...
....is to be strangers
....is not to say "Good morning" and "Good night"
....becomes even harder when I think about coming in Romania and realize that you will not be there
....is when I smoke and you are not there to tell me off

The hardest thing is that we exist in different Worlds that reject each other. There is actually no hard thing. There are a bunch of fucked up moments and situations that messed us up. So much, that we got confused and missed the right way. And made it be even worse. Two stupid puppets that thought of them as humans for a while and dared to believe in everything that was forbidden.
 The hardest thing ever was when I said the last good bye on the phone, in the airport. The hardest thing was when the plane took off...The hardest thing, my love, was to know that it was the last time when I see you, but not to give you the last kiss...The hardest thing is to know that I will never forget you.

"Have you ever been in love? Horrible, isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens your heart and it means someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses. You build up this whole armor, for years, so nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They don't ask for it. They do something dumb one day like kiss you, or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so a simple phrase like 'maybe we should just be friends' or 'how very perceptive' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a body-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love."

THE SANDMAN: THE KINDLY ONES by NEIL GAIMAN

After the end...(the final way of saying "I love you",,,)

...can be nothing. Or can be the last struggle to start it all over again. I chose the second method. The nothingness seems a little bit too limited and in consequence, too boring for me. This, besides the fact that I consider that all the states of the mind and the soul should be felt at least once in a life time. Including the extremes. The extreme happiness and the extreme sorrow. And to survive all of them...Than, you become complete....and than there can be...nothing.

The 2 pictures with you are still in the electronic frame's memory..I see them sometimes, when I shuffle through it. It seems like ages since you took your decisions, though there are only some days...Everything changed...Including me. All that is left from us, is a pale shadow of pain which is pushing me from time to time, when I loose myself in memories. It's far too late to know if your decision was good or bad...I've never hidden from you my strong side. That part of me that can turn off feelings and can just go with the flow. There were times when I wished you will never get to see it, feel it, stand it...I know, it's hard. And yes, I know you are hurt...and if there was any reason why I never wanted to let it go, this was the first one. I guess you feel it every time I am not...alone...because those are the only times when you are letting me know you still exist.  But it was you who made the choice for both of us...

The child opened his fist and the butterfly flew ... he followed it with his eyes and turned to his mother. "It is gone...But it was so beautiful, mum!" and a tear rolls on his red chick...."My child, but you don't have to cry....that's how it has to be...this is how butterflies are. They are meant to fly as much as they can, to make the Sun smile and the sky blue..."...

There is only one way to see what is after the end. By living it. Now, after all this disaster, after all the breaking and emptiness, I am recovering...in a way or another. Patiently, taking every piece of my soul and trying to put it back together. There are a lot of pieces missing...But I am strong enough to make it, even without a center. So just...forget everything, but this "One day, we will lay back on the sand and I will teach you the constellations...."

The pieces of glass entered so deep that nothing can remove them anymore...because one is enough to be taken away to start the uncontrolled bleeding...