Monday, November 26, 2012

Still mad about you

There are those who believe that the best medicine to curing an illed love break-up is to move on and let time do its thing.
I like to every now and again write about what is going through my mind and heart.
This feable heart that for a couple of months have been struggling with a devastating anxiety, the likes I have not had in a very long time.
Still, this is part of a growing process.

I know that I completely and maddly fall in love for someone who was very far away.
I did my best to please her and to make her happy.
I think I was successful during a period.
Unfortunately, I lost track of things, and I started to worry too much, for all that was out of my control.
The rejection soon followed and all my sanity collapsed.
If there is one thing I could regret, but I am powerless to change, would be to have a real talk... and really figure out, what could have been done.
Would the visit, bring clarity or would it just add pain?
It is pointless now... my messages have no response, and my presence is unwanted.
Much like that Alanis song, I am uninvited.
The good news, is that my team of new and old friends work around the clock to restore my world.
It is not easy, because, I still linger to love I once had.
It was glorious... a series of wonderful memories that I intend to cherish, and with god's premission and will, I would do anything to recover, rebuilt, cherish and make it worth while.
but as the story goes.... it takes two to tango.
For now I dance alone

As a final thought: I wish you the most profound happiness you can master.
To all the people I have encountered in my travels I wish that they have the chance of at least one day, feel the passion, the stamina, the inspiration, that I had in those wonderful months.
They were worth it. I felt it once, and I will feel it again.
And my world moves on.

To my distant love...may she forgive my words. They are all that I have, and they are all that I give.
Until we meet again, in a sweet memory.

C

Friday, November 23, 2012

What makes me anxious

Sometimes I am having a normal quiet day and some actions, thoughts or events can change my feeling.

I read somewhere that most likely what is changing is my perspective on the matter.

I wonder.

Today I was playing with the Weather Channel app and I happened to study the weather for a special place from far beyond.
I was electrified with anxiety and sad emotion when I saw the real temperature.

I do not like to lose control like this. To feel the deep pain of anxiety.

So a message, a phone call, a letter, a symbol, an icon...

Everything that triggers a certain memory is enough.

Probably at this time no one can actually understand my pain.

My pain comes from within. It is a self-triggered emotion that is connected to the senses.
A music, a word, a smell, all these are enough to remind me of what dreams once came.

They were wonderful.
I had a dream for the future.
A future utopia, that was only an utopia because it was not shared.

Now I feel that I am drawning in my own madness, as I realized that I was nothing more than a  whim.
A fancy fad in someone's life, and when the time was right, it was so simple to just dismiss me as an annoying fly, that entered through the window, on a hot summer's afternoon.

The problem here is perception. Not even the above perception is correct.
Furthermore, the problem arrises from the perception of perception.

Communcation halted, assumptions were made, no truth was ever confirmed.
Each one kept a distorted image of the other.
I feel that every one is creating pictures of everyone. Are they any more true than the ones I had?

And why do these memories linger in me?
Why can't I be left alone with my feelings?

And why do I need to expose this intimacy into public.
Perchance I need to feel the attention of a certain public, of the right public, of the one who shall never read.

I remember the movie: "The Secretary".
A sado-masochist relationship, that ended with the girl grabbing herself to a table for 3 days without eating, sleeping, or moving, until she could get the attention of her lover.

She made the ultimate subjugation, the extreme proof of affection.

From this thought, I immediately jump to the thought that there is not enough love in anyone to make anyone else fall in love for them.
It does not happen like that. It is a game of chance, you either have it or don't. So we all pretty much work like light switches.

What happens is, when we fall in love is to buy a whole lot of pain if the one we love rejects us.
And from all that rejection derives the anxiety, the fear, the inability to face the world with that, once forgotten, smile of the first day, when we kissed "like we invented it".

These are my anxieties and I want them out.

Thursday, November 22, 2012

Dismay

"And if you are dismayed, be cheerful now."

For the past few months, I have been rather sad and blue.
I guess I have been blaming it on my ill luck with what I thought was my fate.
Turn out the fate is constantly being written by us with every choice we make.

Choices are much like a process of communication, at least, in the light of pragmatic of communication, which states that it is impossible not to communicate.
Everyone is always communicating, even by the act of not saying or expressing anything, your are communicating just that, your wish not to be apart of something. It is therefore a process of choice.

For a period I decided to fight my ill fate, and refuse the facts as they were.
Most possibly I do not understand neither the facts nor the actions that lead to the consequences.
I can speculate
I can wonder about it.

I realized that it does not matter, because I will never know the real reason.
That door is shut, from the other side, on the grounds of mercy, or pity, or sympathy, or some kind of extraodinary excuse that may clear the conscience of those who believe in such way of behaving.

The incredible is dismay of my part is the illusion of friendship, that apparently is impossible to hold.
I do not kid myself, I mean nothing more than a ill memory.
Where us from myside I am all memory... by a mere blink of the eyes.

The magic is that I am stronger in my heart
I believe
and I do.

so, I believe that I can finally overcome the dismay

Monday, November 19, 2012

Selfish

Today I find out, once again about selfishness.
It turns out that this hurts too.
I think that I also am to blame for this feeling.
Once in a while everybody is.
At times it is vital to our survival.
I just feel that when it is felt to harm others, that is when the problem arises.
When you think of yourself, thinking that your actions are more important than anyone elses, that is when the problem arises.
Because people have a lot of difficult seeing within.

As do I...

Ya tebya lyubylyu

On the day, I was left away
Ya tebya lyubylyu
was all i had to say.

But now, I can say it, over and over,
and my echos will not reach the furthest corners of the Ob river.

I can stay lingering in trail of tears that I left from Zagreb to this day,
but this trail will only lead me to the past where I will find nothing but pain.
The future seems incomplete,
but appearance is the game of ill perspective.

How I wish I could power up reality with a fresh new feeling
That somehow would make my beloved, believe, accept and feel that i really mean
"Ya tebya lyubylyu"

How to reach, those who ignore any messages in the bottle.
How to overcome the contempt of others.
How to dwell, in the bittersweet reality of a freedom that I had not invisioned.
Why not linger in the passion jail, that promised me so much and granted me so little.
Where did I go so wrong....
Lord I must have been blind, to the truth that was laid before me.

I write these, confessions, to any eager eyes that my like to read, upon this.
Whatever they might infere is there business.
This is an empty chapter of my life, that I accepted with disbelief.

This dream may not come, but others, surely will.
Meanwhile, ya tebya lyubylyu, is all I have to say, to the one, who does not want to read, hear or see.
So... perchance to empathize.
oh well...

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Egmont

I do not believe that anyone notices what is going on.
I talk about it.
I do call for attention, but no one is really paying attention.
I am the boy who cried for wolf.
Wolf being the mare that consumed my heart, and left me strandef on an island of despair.
And still, I do believe.

How can this be?
How can one go from one point of the spectre to the other.
I was once a better man and now I am a nothing man.
Most probable reasons.
I was too far
I was too much of a crying baby
I was too obsessed

Or quite simply
She was not that in to you.
And the pain lingers
How it lingers.
Less it is true
But I do feel like the best joke of the summer.
A proper prank to a fool who still believes in love.
Sad thing is, I am not sure who the biggest fool in this game was.
I wanted the sky, and I was offered an illusion of heaven.
When the plane took off, all I had was my person hell.
The demons of egmont had followed me
They are still with me, less powerful, perchance tired.

I am a open heart.
Begging for some onces of attention.
And in the end... who do I see?
Ghosts from Christmas past.
I dread to think of what the Christmas future may bring as I have no notion of how to deal with my Christmas Present.

Nonetheless.... some progress as been made.
I can now live.
I hate the feeling of rejection and nothingness that is left behind.
Oh well... f*ck everyhing... I gave myself
and forgot to love me instead.

The world is definetly for the selfish bastards... they get the girls, because they are so into themselves.
The ones that give love, get shit...

Ah egmont, thank you for all the misery you left at my doorstep... one day, perchance I will have it all clean, until I can trust again... and be spitted in the heart like the past

These tears , how they like to simply rolll down.

Leave me alone spirit... take the better memories of me, and the worst too.
I wish peace
I hate the feeling
It takes my substance
All I want is oblivion...
Eternal ignorant bliss, that clears alll
What is the point of remembering pain that comes back everyday like a shoreline tempest

To be.... someone new

Sunday, November 11, 2012

Sunday, after the war

The soft morning breeze of a golden autumn day, reminds me the importance of being alive.
The gentle leafs that still hold on to the trees underline the importance of grabbing to the things one believe.
It is so beautiful to be able to hold on to what we believe... to really have a plan that goes beyond the mere circumstances of the day.
I imagine how many people shatter their dreams on a daily basis due to their surroundings, to the people whom they had deposit their confidence, and now for  some reason they are unable to move forward to what they had dream.

Thursday, November 08, 2012

This is the way the world lives

This is the way the world lives...
This is the way the world lives...
This is the way the world lives...

The world is by far better than we make of it
The world as it was, it had so much possibilities
And then one day, we were born...

The way we treat the world, is much like we treat each other.
Some of us are passionate enough to give it love,  others just don't care and assume it is far better to ignore the facts than to face them.
The world lives with its fate alone

Saturday, November 03, 2012

And then there was me...

To you, 

The wanderers of this world, who inadvertently come across this page, know this.
I am, but a shadow of a man.
A Samson without hair.
A king without queen
A fool with a bag of illusions.
A sadman with memories

Not too long ago, I thrown a long rope that landed way  beyond the Ural Mountains.
For sometime, it was being hold by someone who dreamt of a better tomorrow.
Someone who was willing to believe.

But one day, reality kicked in... and I was left alone.
Desperate I tried to find the path of the rope to find the whereabouts, but the rope was loose.
No one was holding it on the other side
No one was there to hold it.
To make the matter worse, a thick and dark fog plummet on the earth, leaving me clueless of where to go.
I pulled the rope, and the rope came, little by little, it came.
There was no point following the rope, all I could do now, was pull it.

And then, there was only me, pulling the rope, with each pull I was taking down memory by memory. 
For each memory I was stabbing my my heart.

It is a heart breaking moment.
For in that person, I saw the smile that nurtured my spirit.
A spirit that now fades... longing to see the path to happiness.
But,
All I see is the fog, and all I have is a rope, that I pull everyday, in the hope that someone will catch it.

In the dark, in the cold, for now, there is only me and my rope.
With each loose I give it, I unwind a memory and I feel a hole with tears.

We'll meet again...
Don't know where, don't know when...

But for now, there is only me, pulling the rope.