An introduction… I guess

The normal thing to do in my situation( aka opening a blog, just in case you didn’t figure it until now) would be to start with an introduction, what am I doing here writing and all of that. The only problem is that this is what I’m the worst at. I tend to skip them all. And from what I’ve been noticing over time, it seems there are more parts to a beginning( or introduction), contrary to the expectations. First, there’s the actual start, like when you’re in a running  competition and you are just taking off from the white line. That’s my favourite. I like them a lot, but that’s all, unfortunately. Then there’s the actual change that’s supposed to happen- I was almost never able to do it. I guess it’s because of my lack of will. Otherwise, I can’t really explain it. Thirdly, there is the moment when the change doesn’t feel like a change anymore. That’s a place I want to be as many times as possible. It means I’ve had lots of achievements.

Therefore, it would be the stupidest thing for me to start this blog with an introduction. And really now, what could I possibly be writing about? About my hobbies? I guess I could, but it’s just too basic. Plus, it’s more interesting to let you discover on your own, instead of me just giving them on a plate. I could say a few words about who I am, of course, but I haven’t decided about that yet. It’s still a work in progress. Not to mention the fact that over some years, if this little pleasure of mine keeps going, I might not be the me from this moment of speaking.

You can take these two paragraphs as you wish: as a disclaimer, or a prologue, or even an introduction. It’s up to you. Just take them on a light and friendly way. I hope I’ll make you laugh(or feel relaxed), or at least feel something, if you decide I’m not as funny/calming as I think I am.  The only thing I want to avoid is you reading  my articles absently. It means I didn’t do a good enough job.

So, what are you waiting for? Put a smile on that face ‘cause it’s worth it!

P.S. I tend to be a little cheesy sometimes or too dramatic. Tell me when I do that, imagine the situation with the normal amount of cheesiness and drama, and I think we’ll be best friends in no time. :))



dear butterfly…

Hear me out

I’m dying


I’m actually not

Just a twisty feel again

Don’t come

Don’t hear me



I don’t even know what time is it. My tears won’t let themselves to dry. Sad tickles run down my face swiftly and unrushed by no force. I’m still shaking. And I just can’t stop. I keep looking at my hands and I feel the awful wretchedness taking control over me. My body feels broken in all the irreparable places- like a doll with twisted limbs… and right there, between my timid and horified palms, there’s this butterfly made from paper, that’s been smashed and thrown away. And I don’t recall if I was the murderer. There’s this blank in my memory and a wall that shields something- an awful happening I assumed. It was my fault, wasn’t it? I killed it… I want to fix it, to revive it somehow but this arrogant voice keeps telling me that some things just can’t be fixed. And so I stare at it continously and I don’t know what to do. Some other whispers ask if I really am the murderer, with a surprised voice, but I shut them down immeadiately. There’s no way that someone else did it. I need to accept it.

I want to at least put him at peace, but I can’t make myself to bury him. I would smash him even more.


It’s been days and I still hold the broken buttefly. My lips are now like a tree’s bark and my eyes feel injected with some kind of venom. I think I’m gonna fall. My muscles give in to this luring force and my body hits the cold and choppy ground. I don’t even feel the pain anymore. My vision gets blurry and wet. I still want to fix the butterfly. With a shaky hand I try to smoothen his wings. My touch is almost unnoticeble.

Though, right before I close my eyes, he moves one of his tiny limbs. With my lids sealing my vision, I start seeing behind the wall.

it wasn’t my fault

I smile peacefully

The butterfly breaks under my skin and a wild wind lifts me from the ground. I feel life surrounding me everywhere. The whirlwind wakes up every particle of myself and with my eyes wide open I start seeing EVERYTHING. Existence in its most sincere way.

I promise to cherish you forever, dear Butterfly!

A not so pretty story

“So what now?”
“You tell me! What do we do now?”
“I DON’T KNOW! Ok? I screwed up, ok?”
“No shit Sherlock! Guess what: this time I didn’t. So you tell me: what do we do now?”
“Isn’t it obvious? You leave angrily and I’m the idiot that messed up your little paradise. I’m surprised you didn’t storm out until now”, he answered calmly.
“That’s what you want me to do? she asked discouraged. To give it all up like it meant nothing?”
“Well, if you’ve got a better solution, please, do tell me.”

“I do, but it’s not worth it. You don’t want this to work anymore. You found something else. Someone else to be more precise. Am I wrong?”
“Then.. at least let me be the bad guy here, so that you’ll be ok.”
“Don’t! Don’t do this any much harder than it is by victimising yourself. I don’t need it.”
“Don’t pretend to care at least”, she snaped. “Cause you don’t. So you don’t get to protect me anymore from the world. And they, believe me, can’t do much worse than you did.”
“If that’s what you want…”
“Stop it right there. Don’t say another word. Don’t make me crazy. This time I’m not. Just get out of my house already.”

And he did, while passively acknowledging his acts. He felt bad for the situation, but not for her. He felt freed. Freed of the whining and loving exgirlfriend that wanted to feel safe with him, that ate a few of his precious nights a week with her problems and stupid insecurities in his opinion. Not a glance back, not a tear. Just joy. Not a single drop of guilt.

While she spilled her heart on the floor, lost and alone, with a broken self. She started questioning every single act of hers. She trusted him and got disappointed. So disappointed. And she cried cause she couldn’t breathe anymore and because no pill was working. Disappointment was all over. Adressed to her, to him, to everyone and everything, like a scandalous propaganda developing in the middle of a put together country. All red and grungy and ugly.


Come, come here. Don’t be afraid. Dare to look. There’s nothing special. Just some broken pieces, scattered on the floor. I know, it’s not really clean, but rather messy. I like it though, with the half full glass of wine, waiting on the table next to that big grandfthery armchair. I also love my library, it’s filled with books with leathered covers and shinny, 3D writing waiting to be picked up. You know, you can come closer, I won’t bite you. I’m sorry about the clothes though. I don’t usually let them for so long before I clean them up. But you know, today is not “usually”. Or at least that’s how it feels.

Would you like a drink? I’ve got lots of bottles, waiting silently to be consumed. I have bourbon, wine and many more. And even though you might think that the strong ones are finished first, let me dissapoint you. I actually prefer a good wine to a brandy or a jack. The best feeling is going here at night, put some elevator music on the background, sit and have glass of wine, usually white. And I’ll think about every single little thing that has ever happened to me, no matter how bad or good. And I’ll stare with my eyebrows almost touching into the wine, like I was trying to see its composition. Usually takes some good hours, this habit of mine. Then I’ll walk around, like some very clever scientist, until someone finally knocks at the door and my groove is completely ruined. I’m sorry to bore you with such unsignificant detailes of my not-so-spicy-life. You must wonder by now, why are you here, what is this place and all sorts of things related to the room.

To be honest, I have no idea how this room came to be, it might as well be a product of my imagination which materialised. The clothes on the floor, I actually never touch them. It’s quite comforting having them around and it really doesn’t matter if there’s a bra showing, or a shirt is being all baggy, I could easily have them displayed, with no shame. The library, you see, has also some peculiarities. I could try as long as I can to pull books out of it, but it’s simply impossible- they won’t come out. But, the thing I like most about it, is that they take me to places if I touch them. Lastly, my very dear collection of liqueurs. They don’t have tags on them, I can only guess what’s inside by the smell or colour. One more thing: the crown of this collection is the one that looks like a rainbow. Somehow, I always find it at the back.

Let’s have a glass of wine, shall we? Today I’m feeling red, don’t you think? I won’t put too much, don’t worry, I know you’re not a big fan of wine in general. Somehow, you would rather drink cheap beer from the non-stop market across the street. It always brings a smile in me. I’ll even have a toast: “to not <<usually>> days”. Sounds like a good resolution.

Now, that was good! I want to tell you a secret: welcome to my intimacy.

It’s a nice place, don’t you think? Too bad it is all in my head


and you as well.

Shameless confession

Stupid Love. Just so stupid…

Why? Why did you leave? Why be such a drama queen? Did you know they all die in the end? DID YOU KNOW THAT YOU STUPID LOVE?!
Did you know you would be missed? Did you know that you were addictive? DID YOU?! I bet you didn’t.
You stupid love…
I had plans with you, you know that?! You were my one and only desire. I could see you even in a cave and you would’ve still been beautiful. So beautiful…..
Do you know how much I miss you?! Even now when you’re long gone, I still see you everywhere. Just around the corner, yea, there, on the side of the road, displaying yourself shamelessly and shylessly. Do you remember? Do you remember all the lies?! Or were they truths? Only God knows that now.

Why did you grow so fond of all the side characters? Why? I still don’t get it. That deceiving act of yours. Why do you hide? Why come and go as it would be such a simple thing to do? Can’t you see the tears?! I thought you knew better what was behind those masks…
Why can’t you just sympathise those happy endings? You know I crave for them. You know I’m just a child who can’t handle the pain of true existence yet. Why take that innocence away from me? Why make me grow up so fast? WHY STEAL? I’m not that rich you know…
But it frustrates me like hell, you knew that?! It simply drives me insane. That play of yours. Why leave such a big pain behind? WHY CAN’T YOU JUST BE A FAITHFUL WIFE? WHY GO WHENEVER YOU GET THE CHANCE TO SOME OTHER CATCHES?!
I hate you. You stupid love. Just SO stupid…..

Music, sounds, just some thoughts basically

Music dictates our lives, whether we like it or not. Sometimes it boosts our mood, and sometimes it ruins it. I could document myself onto this matter, but it’s kinda pointless. It’s going to ruin all the magic with all those scientific details that will print on my brain with the speed of a typewriter. Then I’ll be just the paper that will ruin everyone’s smile. Don’t get me wrong, I like discovering things. All sorts of them. It gives me a childish feel. You know, like when you were a child and your grandpa or father(in my case both and many others; yeah, my family is filled with living enciclopedias) used to sit with you and listen to your stories and your explanations about all the little things that exist in the world, about all those regular stuff for them that you’ve just found out about. And after that, they’d put half a smirk on their faces, amused of your almost drawn out of a fantasy book ideas, like the ones they read to you before going to bed, but only for a second, so you wouldn’t notice and be sad because they were mocking you(or at least, that was what they thought you would think). Then, they’d start and explain you the real truth, the scientific one, with the voice of big people, who know many things that you were just supposed to accept, even though they ruined your fantasies. And you’d listen to them, with an amazed expression, slowly forgetting about your truth for a moment, and an easy feeling in your heart. It was like you were flying or like you’ve just conquered a big mountain, or for the ones with bigger dreams, the world. Knowing everything was so amazing and fascinating was fueling that… feeling(I can’t really explain better than I already did, I can only hope that you’ve felt it too, because it’s beyond words; either that, or I have a too limited vocabulary- you choose) and made you want more and more. In my case, the following would be that I’d go to kindergarden or even school and find a way to open the subject disscussed a day earlier with my father/grandpa and tell all the other kids about my discoveries, with the same superior voice they were told to me. And I’d be proud of myself for knowing, because I could see that almost no one knew. It was very satisfactory( and mean too, but you know how kids are, you were one too once).

So, going back to music, I prefer letting the technical details about all this influencing into a thick layer of fog. I believe it’s much better this way. Still, it’s quite interesting how sounds affect us. Even though we don’t realise at once, it makes us who we are. It makes us see things in a certain way. It can even influence our decisions. And yes, when you say it like that, it’s kinda scary, but think it like this: haven’t you ever felt discouraged and listened to some sad music to match your mood and you said “ Let’s shuflle them, I’m sure it’ll give me only sad music” and you did that and suddenly a mood-booster type of song came up and you let it play because it’s still one of your favourites, even though now you’re in a bad mood. And you did that and nothing seemed so greyish as it was 10 seconds ago.

Even though music it’s quite a powerful thing, that sometimes makes you feels emotional, it is nothing compared to a human voice. It’s the peaceful feel you get when your mother is singing quietly a lulllaby or that shiver you get when the loved one whispers in your ear sweet words or the courage you get after your father’s speech about being better every day, motivating you to go on or the calming voice of your mother( again, because mothers ARE special) telling you that everything will be fine and the list could easily go on. A lifetime wouldn’t be enough to count them all. These are the sounds that surpass easily any song in the world in my opinion.

The time I “met” a kindergarden friend on bus

What’s up, stranger? You don’t know me, do you? I do. You are a passing figure in my life, from a long forgotten past. Very long. We were small. It was the time when you could fly, when everything was wrapped up in magic fairy dust. What?! You’ve forgotten? It’s rather normal actually. I would have too. Still, you stayed. In a corner of my mind, I know. Some call it subconscious. I call it library. Not just any library. And most importantly, not filled with books. It’s true, it has pages, blackened by some old ink, whose paper felt plentifully the passing of time, but they’re not books. They’re memories. Through those pages I even found a bunch of drawings. Lots of them actually. I could even apply for Arts with such a laborious portfolio. The colours still vibrate. Despite their primitiveness, I still like them. There’s something special about them. I can’t put my finger on it, but there is something. Also, we are deviating from the subject. How’s your life going? Who were you in middle school? Were you one of the “populars” or were you the kind with the head stuffed in a book? Or even both? Me? I was many things. I discovered myself. I was amazed to see that I’m a Doctor Jeckyll with more than one misters Hyde. I succeeded in digging into my darkest parts a lot. I analyzed them in detail. I can’t say if it was pleasant or not, but I can say that I don’t regret  it. We’re in the same place you know? Same highschool. Ironic, isn’t it? Fate has a certain sense of humour. I think it was just bored. How are you now? You’ve become someone, I hope. A being you’re proud of.

I see… you must go now.  I hope we see each other again. Maybe share some memories, untagle that ball of thread of each others. Maybe even actually talk. It’s been a pleasure! Later, then, known stranger.