Trees that wear hats

Of, just another brillaint future gone at the instant of my thinking of it. Yet another crisis, and this all sounds so different written atop different music. Usually, it'd be whiny, now it seems proud. It IS something, it's life, it's pain and it's real. How many can say that it's real. Real people just know when it's real, or when they lie to themselves. And I could again succumb to clichee, I could just spill out nothingness wordy, I could. I could lie, I could live in the illusion I live in. I could. You realize? I really could. A choice, to keep sane and happy. You know separation is never the solution. Exacty after you wrong him and her, and they wrong you back, that very instant is the chance of bond. It's the only bond forged of pain that we need. Be pride in the knowledge of your ignorance. Be proud to preserv whatever self worth has been beaten out from you. From your mom crying, from your dad not giving a damn, from all the he's and the he

teiubescvreausamaacceptisisafimimpreunasincerisavorbimchestiifainesisanetinemdemanasisafacemlucrurifainesisatraimvarasisaputemgandilafelsisa-tiaratchestii da asta e o declaratie te rog iarta-ma pentru ea dar nu mai pot si nu mai vreau vreau sa dispar ca sa ma intorc sincer si eu pentru ca orice gand a ajuns sa ma altereze prea tare si vrea ca lumea mea sa se reduca la tine dar tu nu stii asta si imi e frica sa iti spun pentru ca nu cred ca cunosc vreo persoana, nici macar pe mine si ma doare mai tare si iar intru in sfera gandurilor si faptelor obsesive care sunt la granita depresiei si parca am uitat tot ce am invatat, cultura generala si despre cum sa am grija de mine dar nu mai vrea sa incerc sa ma abtin si sa zbier si sa mor cate putin in fiecare zi m-am saturat vreau sa ma trezesc altfel, vreau sa pot face altfel m-am saturat ca zilele sa treaca pe langa nu mai vreau nici greseli nici experienta vreau usurinta dar ea nu e buna pentru ca deformeaza iar stagnarea duce la involutie d

Nu ai vrea, pentru o secunda infima, ca toate minciunile pe care le spui sa devina adevarate? Nascute dintr-o viata neinteresanta, care ar fi vrut sa fie mult mai mult, care ar fi trebuit sa fie a ta, imprumutata prin sinapse degradate. Nu ai vrea, cat vorbesti prin telefonul cu acel-cineva sau alt nume a carui semnificatie nu vrei sa o atesti... sa oferi chiar ceva din viata ta... oh, dar deja o faci, in fundal... crezi, cel putin. Dar nu se observa. Si de ce cand iti spun sinceri lucruri pe care le cred sincer, nu reactionezi? Recunosc, as vrea sa reactionezi, sa-ti schimbi punctul de vedere auzindu-ma, ceea ce nu ar trebui. Dar de ce... e frustrant... si n-am sa mai fac asta. Sunt un idiot si vreau ca cineva sa ma iubeasca pentru asta. Ca tine, si ca tine si ca voi toti... Undeva intre ziua in care te nasti si cea in care mori vei crede ca intelegi... dar va fi fals. Nu exista un singur moment in care intelegi. Intelegerea e un proces, e o devenire. Nu ajungi la ea, traiesti pr

Absolut nici o poezie, dar chiar nici una... sa ma ierte Poe, dar nici una nu transmite la fel de mult ca doua randuri scrise de un vechi prieten, pe care le intelegi si le lasi sa te inunde cu orice mic sentiment le simtea. Cand citesti o poezie proasta rau si totusi zambesti, pur si simplu trimite cu plugul capacitate de empatie. Asa ca dragi poeti clasici, sunteti voi ok, dar stati in alt cartier.

You don't know what it is you're running from. I'm laughing really hard, been laughing for a while... and your husky voice tells me it's time to settle and be so serious. Neaah, the girl singing in the background is the only I need, oh my goodness me, oh my. It isn't hard, you don't need to impress when you laugh, you're just rejoicing living the illusion... and so many illusion give me no clue. Let's lie to each other sweeter, pleaase. I know I can't break through to your heart, but I'll make it an exchange instead of a feather touch. So could you talk like you used to, when you could tell my lies appart and still love them making me. Else i'll laugh in medals and I'll leave you, dear, we're both selfish. We need to be in debt, what a shame... but isn't imperfection source of love, is it now? Come and smile, dear, it won't hurt until we wake.

And yes, how could I deprive ideas of meaning by just... confining them to words. I kind of don't want to lose that part of what I know will never fit. Selfless is it all once were and always will be, we can find meaning, or lack of, by stretching our sights towards things that no one ever knows... where does the Sun set? Why do we have to change? Comfort in ignorance is so human, like many things are. But when we give a part of our heart out, and it gets misread and rejected, sure we get hurt, for we never want to give, only to be aproved of.  And when we are given little parts of someone else... how seldom do we know we should neither care for, nor indulge any gratitude... but simply, receive people inside, let them live through what we know as being human. And smile, forgive... I could forgive myself, if only I wouldn't have to go though it again, I love you.

I can't remember if I ever deserved you, but you wouldn't know or care, for your world was too grand, your lungs too small and your mind too wide. So for your last rebel yell, let yourself know strangers and weird people continue making the world sane and average. Yours is the peace now, ours your legacy, and thanks, for as long as you live in our small lungs.

Limba nativa... imi duce gandurile pe alte cai catre degete... mai mult prin inima, mai putin prin filtrul fricii. N-as vrea sa plec sau sa stau, ci sa simt cu creierul imi leaga centrii vorbirii de ratiune si spirit si emotie. Parca pot sa vad arce sinaptice peste tot, parca pot intelege. Un vas plin de sange, doar un nou centru se dezvolta. Ce alegi sa-i imprimi? Si ce raspuns dai la intrebarea ce faci? Cum te simti? Cat il treci prin filtrul fricii? Ai curaj sa-mi spui tot? Sa fii un nerv deschis, sa pot pune mana pe tine, sa te doara, dar sa fie prima atingere adevarata. Intre minti, unde totul e, de fapt, departe de cliseele inimii si ale spiritului. Magia nu e in dragoste, e in cat de frumos poti visa, cum poti interpreta lumea din jur. Un vis. Si atunci da, te poti numi frumos. Cand iesi din tiparele vorbelor si vezi dincolo de ce spun, in ce fel de sinapse fac. Acolo gasesti binele din oameni. Si pe mine, acolo. Te astept, vreau sa vii.

I am I really crushing my every dream with you with my emotions of enthusiasm towards finally discovering sweetness... Pixels and machine code seems so perfectly sane, even if man-made... nature was careless enough not to povide us with the way of thinking capable of ruling out paradoxes and infinity... there is no such thing... it's just arrogance, our realisation that we are relative. Or I should just shut up. The world around gets tired when you think too much. It's braver to just let yourself feel, clench in all the sweetness someone can give... even if nothing but a lie, I'd rerun it a thousand times over. For i'll never know you but through myself. I'd rather have you in a million moments than for 3 continuous hours, however relatively similar they are. Estranged overflow, I seek math and love, it would be enough.

I lost all faith when you said your choices were right and mine not.