subota, 8. rujna 2012.

I’m the ghost of a girl, that I want to be most, I’m the shell of a girl, that I used to know well.

I'm the girl who is lost in space, the girl who is disappearing always, forever fading away and receding farther and farther into the background. Just like the Cheshire cat, someday I will suddenly leave, but the artificial warmth of my smile, that phony, clownish curve, the kind you see on miserably sad people and villains in Disney movies, will remain behind as an ironic remnant. I am the girl you see in the photograph from some party some place or some picnic in the park, the one who is in fact soon to be gone. When you look at the picture again, I want to assure you, I will no longer be there. I will be erased from history, like a traitor in the Soviet Union. Because with every day that goes by, I feel myself becoming more and more invisible.

ponedjeljak, 3. rujna 2012.

I find more peace with you.

You and I were different. We came from different worlds, and yet you were the one who taught me the value of love. You showed me what it was like to care for another, and I am a better man because of it. I don’t want you to ever forget that.

subota, 1. rujna 2012.

Her heart is just too dark to care.

She smiles perfect. That harmony in her voice, and that slighing ton is what you need to be undisturbed. But you can't have it for free. Because she smiles only for money. She's some kind of whore, smile whore. You made her that way.

srijeda, 29. kolovoza 2012.

You should date a girl who reads.

Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes, who has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she has found the book she wants. You see that weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a secondhand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow and worn.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or if she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas, for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry and in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who read understand that all things must come to end, but that you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.


subota, 25. kolovoza 2012.

When I watched you walk away I never thought I'd say: "I’m fine without you!"

When people can walk away from you, let them walk. Don't try to talk another person into staying with you, loving you, calling you, caring for you, coming to see you, or staying attached to you. When people can walk away, let them walk. Your destiny is never tied to anybody that left.

There may be a million things to smile about, but you’re definitely my favorite one.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride. I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.

srijeda, 22. kolovoza 2012.

I only miss you when I'm breathing.

A lonely road, crossed another cold state line, miles away from those I love, purpose hard to find... While I recall all the words you spoke to me, can't help but wish that I was there, back where I'd love to be. Dear God, the only thing I ask of you is to hold her when I'm not around, when I'm much too far away... We all need that person who can be true to you, but I left her when I found her and now I wish I'd stayed. ’Cause I'm lonely and I'm tired, I'm missing you again...

Because I’m a woman, phenomenal woman, that’s me.

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies. I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size, but when I start to tell them, they think I’m telling lies. I say, it’s in the reach of my arms, the span of my hips, the stride of my step, the curl of my lips. I walk into a room just as cool as you please, and to a man, the fellows stand or fall down on their knees. Then they swarm around me, a hive of honey bees. I say, it’s the fire in my eyes, and the flash of my teeth, the swing in my waist, and the joy in my feet. I’m a woman, phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, that’s me. 

utorak, 21. kolovoza 2012.

Simple as that...

You may not be her first, her last, or her only. She loved before she may love again. But if she loves you now, what else matters? She’s not perfect - you aren’t either, and the two of you may never be perfect together but if she can make you laugh, cause you to think twice, and admit to being human and making mistakes, hold onto her and give her the most you can. She may not be thinking about you every second of the day, but she will give you a part of her that she knows you can break - her heart. So don’t hurt her, don’t change her, don’t analyze and don’t expect more than she can give. Smile when she makes you happy, let her know when she makes you mad, and miss her when she’s not there…

I don't want to waste my love

I think you still love me, but we can’t escape the fact that I’m not enough for you. I knew this was going to happen. So I’m not blaming you for falling in love with another woman. I’m not angry, either. I should be, but I’m not. I just feel pain. A lot of pain. I thought I could imagine how much this would hurt, but I was wrong

ponedjeljak, 23. srpnja 2012.

I feel and it sucks...

Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that 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 didn't ask for it. They did 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 simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' 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 real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. 
I hate love.

četvrtak, 19. srpnja 2012.

October and April

 She was like April sky,  sun rise in her eyes.
Child of light, shining star, fire in her heart.  
Bright as day, melting snow,  breaking  through the chill…

He was like frozen sky in October night. 
Darkest cloud, endless storm, raining from his heart. 
Coldest snowdeepest thrilltearing down his will…


  Like hate and love, world's apart, 
this fatal love was like poison  right from the start.
 Like light and dark…

This is my video:

utorak, 10. srpnja 2012.

I'm my own worst enemy..

And I, I do not dare deny, the basic beast inside, It's right here it's controlling my mind. And why do I deserve to die? I'm dominated by this animal that’s locked up inside!You made a monster of me through all your wicked lies. Forever tortured by you, abandoned at death's door. 
Until I said: 'No more!'

utorak, 5. lipnja 2012.

Even though I know it's not going to happen, I find myself sitting and waiting a message from you... Every day...

Dear diary, 

I saw him again this morning. I don't have any idea why my heart is still beating so fast everytime I meet him. I can't help myself not to melt everytime I see his sweet smile. I'm happy everytime I see it, but I'd be happier if that smile was for me. Can't he be mine?

Dear diary, 

I saw her again this morning. I don't know why I'm always nervous when I see her. I always hide this weird feeling by smiling to my friends. Honestly, my smile is for her, not them. I want her to be mine.