Happily ever after?

When you love someone, you become the most beautiful blind person on earth. Your heart is then wrapped in a hermetic glass box. It can see everything around, but never gets aware of any other sparkle or any other bloom from the outside world.

The heart absorbs selfishly within the box every little piece of your body: eyes, hands, legs, brain, nose, everything! You walk around with a mesmerized look, everybody can read happiness in your halo, your hands only respond when softly touching the body of the beloved one, your legs lead you unconsciously to him, the only perfume you want to wear is the one his skin imprints in your entire being after every hug. There is no better dessert in the world like his kisses, his voice is the best song in your playlist and if every night you close your eyes the darkness turns into colours, it's his fault of course. 
Luckily your heart is protected all this time by its shield and the feelings inside will last forever, will grow old and surpass any danger, any cloud, any storm.

But... what if... the box cracks?...

Ex-life

Once upon a time, I was living in peace and harmony, I was enjoying the silence of the universe, wandering quietly between the stars, picking flowers in Heaven, playing hide and sick with the Angels, flying up in the skies and my wings never hurt. Dew kisses in the morning, rainbow sprinkles in my pocket, cozy clouds beneath my feet... No pain, no darkness, no wickedness or hatred. Paradise was my home and I was really happy!

Then I was born...

It's time...

... to take that fake smile and put it on your face... again
... to act like you don't care
... to play that same dusty "happiness" game
... to speak as if you really know the subject
... to go to bed with the lights on as you are too afraid of that monster you carry inside
... to hold your tears until you drown 
... to play alive when you are actually dead and gone
... to refuse any helping hand because you are fine, aren't you?
... to let the sky crumble... who needs it anyway?
... to be that brave warrior who saves everybody except himself

Happiness is...

… that little 5-year-old girl jumping around on her way to kindergarten, despite the rain, the cold and sad clouds

… the chestnut you pick from the ground while you take your soul for a walk on the autumn’s alleys

… the blooming flowers you receive from the beloved one with no special occasion

… the songs you enjoy in the forest on a shiny spring day and the flowers you pick for your mother, knowing that her eyes will sparkle with joy when she receives them

… the time you spend reading books far away from the crowds, hidden in your own shell, at least for a while

... taking every day a little piece of yourself and modelling it the way you have always wished

... making a wish when seeing a shooting star, while holding hands with the one you love
...a hot chicken soup when you are sick, cooked your dearest one

... growing up to be the pride of your parents and their main reason to go on, no matter what

... being surrounded by optimistic and self-confident people who make you feel the same way

... the bed-time-stories you read every evening to that little human being that fills your room and heart with innocent giggles

... a warm cozy Christmas spent at home

... playing with snow in a dreamy cold day of December, laying down on the ground in silence and loving each soft pure snowflake that gently kisses your face, sacrificing itself

... a nasty dragonfly in the heat of the summer, spreading its freedom as if life never ended

... whatever makes you feel peaceful, joyful, free and grateful for everything you have and everything you are...

Toamnă?

Păsările călătoare îşi iau zborul, pleacă, se îndreaptă, fără să privească înapoi, către ţinuturi mai calde, promiţătoare. Un singur suflet rămas în urmă, zvâcnind de melancolie, sângerează la gândul că trebuie să plece şi să lase în depărtări locul de care se simte atât de legat, fiinţele alături de care şi-a construit viaţa... Şi mai ales trebuie să se despartă de cel care îi dăruieşte atâta iubire, atât de multă forţă, sufletul din care simte că face parte şi pe care nu l-ar părăsi niciodată.
Dar frigul îşi spune cuvântul şi oricât de mult as dori să rămână, este imposibil!...
Nori înlăcrimaţi se abat asupra vieţii sale, 
poveri din ce în ce mai grele îi străbat existenţa... 
Numai un luptător ar avea curajul să le înfrunte...

...demult apuse...

Vântul bate, timpul zboară, anii se ascund... Ţi se ascund în sufletul înnorat de atâtea amintiri... Bucurii, tristeţi, lacrimi, râsete, au fost, s-au dus... Urmează altele mai pline, mai multe.
Câte sentimente ai strâns, câte iubiri ai cules şi pe câte dintre ele le-ai lăsat să se ofilească... Speranţe firave, s-au stins cândva, demult... nici urmă de tăciuni încă aprinşi...

Fără răspuns

Care este soluţia atunci când sufletul îţi tânjeşte înnebunit după prietenii copilăriei, după locurile care te-au protejat şi te-au ascuns de adevărurile dureroase ale lumii mature? Unde dispare copilăria, când ai impresia că te loveşti cu capul de toţi pereţii? Şi oricât ar încerca să apună, anii de demult rămân totuşi o parte din sufletul necăjit ce încearcă să estompeze depărtarea de cei dragi.
Pe orice parte ai întoarce-o, realizezi că asta nu este viaţa ta! Tu nu aparţii acestei lumi indiferente în care nu îţi găseşti locul, în care te simţi mai străin şi mai singur decât pe o insulă pustie!