Tag Archives: love

Slipping

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I’ve been off, lately. You wouldn’t say, if you didn’t know me. No one really noticed much.

At school, I’m as good as ever, even more sociable than before. I have good grades, I have friends, I have teachers who like me. I do my work, I answer, I read. But I don’t feel it there anymore.

Out, I am fun to hang around it. I hear it often, because my girlfriends call me every weekend. I’m the one they like to get drunk with. I am the one they want to go out to dance with, because when I go out, I’m almost the old me again. I shout a little too loud, I’m excited a bit too much, I take way too many pictures and I laugh with all my heart. I sing along to the music, but this time around, I look at my best friend with a smile playing on my mouth and pain in my eyes. She knows. She understands. This time, the lyrics break my heart, little by little, while I try to keep dancing to the beat. It’s all fun, because it goes away for a few hours, that annoying feeling in my chest. I’m excited again, about nothing in particular, but I am. And yet… I don’t feel it there anymore.

At home, my mom got the hang of it. I am writing again and being silent again. I write and read and write and read and do homework due for the next semester till late hours in the night. I draw mindlessly, constantly listening to a band she knows too well. I smile and I sit next to her when she watches her series and I hope she doesn’t notice. But tonight she told me I should live in the present and I understood she understood. It’s the words I can’t pay attention to anymore, it’s the lingering, the staring, the waiting, the nervousness, the always talking about the same subject, the nonchalance I play so badly. It’s the constant going out, the nervous eating, the always finding something to do. The constant talking about the future or about the past, as if I’m living there.

And yet, I still count days and hope for a brighter moment in the here and now.

 

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Letter to a friend’s friend

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Dear friend of a friend,

you probably don’t recall this, but I do. We’ve had a little chat a while ago. While you probably went home right afterwards with your earplugs in your ears and your mind far away, I didn’t forget the things you’ve said. I didn’t  because in a matter of minutes you messed up all my principles and you took everything I believe in and mocked it with a dumb smile on your face. So I had to rethink my attitude a bit, worried that I might have been wrong all my life. Thinking that I was a fool. You looked at me, no doubt, as one looks at a naive child, who still has to learn about this cruel, cruel world he is about to step in.

You took all my friends and generalised. I hate generalisations. How dare you say everyone is bad at their chore? Oh, that’s not what you meant? You called me inferior, even if you talked it smoothly, with your foreign expressions, but, no worries, the mocking glance looks the same on everyone’s face, no matter how ‘well-bred’ they are. I don’t know what you read when you were little, I don’t know what you believe in, I don’t know what keeps you moving through your life and I don’t know about the things you dream at night. But now, you’ve made me curious, because whatever it is, I never want to have any of that. I will refuse to believe, no matter how old I will get and regardless of the tears that will try to drown me, I will refuse to believe even for one second that this world is, in its chore bad. I can’t believe. I refuse to look cynical at everyone I encounter, only because they might look at me the same way. I will defend to death the beauty of my world, because I fell in love with it before I even got here. Don’t you tell me people are perverse, because I will throw in your face a thousand struggling kids, good kids, who still get flowers for their mothers and a thousand artists, who still get inspired, every day, by the beauty of it all. I will point out for you thousands of people who stay together, every day, only because they got addicted to each other’s smiles. Don’t you tell me you’re nothing without a plan at twenty. Twenty is the age of no plans, didn’t they tell you that? Twenty is the age for love and laughs and learning, yes, but they don’t work separately, my friend’s friend. Don’t you tell me my friends will laugh at me behind my back, because you know nothing about them. What do you know about our sleepless nights and long hours discussing the stars? I bet there’s no place in your timetable for magic and what a shame that is. You have so much time to be cynical. You have so much time to be bitter, don’t waste your twenties. Don’t spend your precious time judging everyone around you, because you’ll waste it. And then, no wonder you haven’t got a second in your day to admire a flower or read a beautiful quote or merely think about how something made you feel.

You live so fast. You tried to convince me I am a majority, when I already know I’m not. You tried to convince me that the nights I spend dancing and laughing are going to damage me, but you had lost me before finishing that foolish idea, because I was already remembering that beautiful night that turned too quickly to daylight. You even tried to take my books and convince me that knowing statistics is far more useful, but by then I was already thinking that a story waits me at home, that my characters are waiting for me to define their journey.

So, my friend’s friend, the next time we meet, let’s just agree to disagree. If you want to keep your black and white perspective, by all means do, but don’t share your glasses with me, because I don’t need them. I don’t need your negativity, because my mother put flowers in my hair when I was a little girl and I’ve felt like a princess over a beautifully coloured world ever since. Call me an optimist with that dumb smile of yours and you’ll make me the biggest compliment. I won’t waste any of my time being cynical. You do that and let me be the irrational one. Let me feel too deep, let me experience more happiness and more pain than you’ll ever know. I take that, I take it with all my heart.

 

 

P.S. Next time, you should spend more time looking at the beautiful girls that were passing by, rather than argue with me. Or is that only the habit of ‘disgusting perverts’? I wouldn’t know, I’ve never denied myself the presence of beauty.

21 Days to go

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Taking advantage of my last sips of the delicious Caramel Machiatto I decided to write a bit. I just came back from doing some shopping for St. Nicholas. I bought lots and lots of sweets, tea cups and warm socks for my parents and for my grandmother. I’m very excited about this Christmas. Actually, no, I’m excited about Christmas in general, to be honest. I know, I know, it’s “over commercialized” and so on. I’ve heard this side of the story, too, because one my friends is a very cynical soul ( so am I in general, up to a point ). 

i just can’t help it, that warm feeling inside once December starts. I love everything about it. I get so excited when the first Coca-Cola commercial with Santa comes up in the cinemas, or when Starbucks change their cups to red. I love listening to carols on the radio, all of them! ( Last Christmas was once my favourite song, so yeah…). I enjoy the slight taste of cinnamon in every food and I actually always wanted to have one of those ridiculous red-reindeer jumpers. I can’t wait to walk with my best friend around the shops and buy all kinds of stupid things for the relatives or help her choose a gift for her mum. Or, walking under the lights in city centre, taking pictures. What about those cute Christmas-markets, where they sell mulled wine and ginger bread?

 I mean, how can anyone really hate Christmas?

I agree that the world doesn’t get better for a month, that people don’t change just because they see some lights on the streets and drink more hot chocolate. But it does send a positive message, to spread joy, make people smile. It should be more about that than about buying huge presents, I agree. And, like it or not, I actually think it brings a bit of warmth in this cold months.

 

 My favourite seasonal songs (that you probably never even heard) to cheer up all the grumpy cats out there:

A special person

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Today I received my first ‘before birthday’ present from my grandmother, a wonderful person I would like to introduce you to.
She is very kind, very patient and the person I probably spent most time with. She is strong and ambitious, although she doesn’t always show it. She raised my mother alone, so I know how tough she can be, but also that she can spread more love than any other person I’ve ever met.
She is stubborn and sometimes naive, but would never admit it. She is pessimistic, but somehow, always right at the same time.
I couldn’t imagine any day without her. She knows when it’s going to rain and puts an umbrella in my bag, she constantly reminds me to eat fruits and vegetables ( even if I am 17 years old now), she recommends me books and watches Sherlock with me. She cooks every day, and I know she wants everything to be perfect when I come home from school. She puts little flowers on my desk ocasionally, just so, most of the time white roses, because they are my favourites. She buys me sweets, even if I always tell her that I already eat to much and she can recognize Mika whenever Rain plays on the radio.
And in every little thing she does for me, I know she puts so much love into it and I am so grateful that I was named after this magnificent human being.

Love, M.

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Learning time: The Angel’s game

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Right now, two minutes ago I have finished The Angel’s game by Carlos Ruiz Zafon. Man, that is some work. I can’t even express what this book did to me.
What do you mean you’ve never heard of it??
This is one of the best pieces of art I’ve ever laid hands on. Seriously. The story .. It just feels real. I’m smiling between tears because I’ve lost a friend I have been in love with for over 400 pages, just as I am happy that I can turn to those 400 pages any day and live his adventure all over again. If you haven’t read it yet do so immediately. It will change your life, I promise you. I envy you the thrill that you will discover in the story.
Because to me it’s not even just a book anymore. It became a friend, a fortune, a bliss.

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Learning time: The Angel’s Game & other Zafon books

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People say that whoever does not like to read has not yet found the right book. I’ve thought a bit on the matter and I think who said that must have been very wise.

I discovered my love for books first by reading Jane Eyre, then by discovering Carlos Ruiz Zafon. And that’s what I’d like to talk about.

Since I first read The Shadow Of The Wind I knew that that type of books I would like to be able to write. My dad and I instantly loved his stories, his grim, stories set in a dark Barcelona, full of mysteries. I mean, even Stephan King could only praise his work.
If you ever have any time, or want to choose a book, pick The Angels Game. This man has this incredible way of writing and you simply can’t stop reading. I carry my book at school, I read on the bus, at home, whenever I have some free time. His thrillers mixed with love and this owe for books and literature turn every story into a marvelous reading. 🙂

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My relationship with libraries

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Hello, lovelies, how’s your weekend so far? I have just been to the cinema with mom ( we watched Playing for Keeps. Basically it’s worth watching for Gerard Butler. ).

So, anyways, on our way back we stopped to my favourite library. I have a serious relationship with books, okay? I am in love with books and I would love to live in a library. I love watching books, reading books and buying books that I have no time to read because I have other books to read.
As I was searching for Proust and Stendhal I couldn’t help but hear a discussion between two girls next to me.

Now, whenever I am in a library, I am torn between the warm feel I get at seeing so many books, and the stupid people I hear talking. Those conversation are sometime so stupid they make me laugh, although my heart is slowly dying inside.
So here’s what I heard:

Heyy, gurl I keep seeing this novel, this umm.. Madame Bovary thing or something?

Oh, yeah. Heard it’s famous, I don’t know. Never read it.

Yeah, me neither. I bet it’s bad.

Of course, since no one has heard of it.

Ummm…what??

I fought a serious urge not to go and make a scene. But be proud of me: I could stand still.

Any stories about stupid people, that know nothing about anything? Please share and make me feel better.

🙂

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