silent strike

Whenever I go on strike, I go silent. When I disapprove, I leave. When there's a fight, I whisper. When there's violence, I hide under the covers. It's not a form of ignorance. It's a self defense mechanism. I hate negative sounds - shouts, yells and crashing things on the floor. I can fight back, I say my part like in a very quiet and intense monologue, hear you out until you're decent. When there's the first boom, I go silent. The crash makes me run away and the bang, well, on my way up north, I can feel only my inner bang screaming out its disappointment.

Once we've reached the monologue and the debate, it's clear we've tried our best, it's too late to give it one more shot since we're still disagreeing. So when I try to make you smile, you say I'm being a child, when I try to take you dancing, you say there's no time for that, when I get busy trying to find a solution, you say I think too much. So I go on strike. Shhh! On a silent strike.

And finally, it all works out. I am me and you are you, both fine separately. If you can't speak in a tone near mine, if can't hum at my la-la-la's, if you can't sing the duet, it's best to leave it all. 

needy

I noticed one interesting thing about me lately. I use more and more I need than ever before. Of course, I want, I crave for, I tackle, I set my mind on things, but I mostly need. Until recently there was only place for desires and wishes, for pampering and indulging myself moments.

People say that it's important to have what you want, but it's more important to get what you need. So I guess, my speech matured itself in front of me and is pushing me to grow up. I don't complain actually, it's all good. Better than wasting my time on useless obsessions, I could focus on my needs, the real gaps that need to become full and abundant.

And I realize that I need simple things. Don't get me wrong, simple isn't easy. Simple is clean, simple is honest, simple is normal, simple is warm, simple is truly magnificent. As simple as a hug, as simple as a sunny day, as simple as a great conversation, as simple as a funny comment, as simple as a love song. And I need all that and more. Yet, all that makes me needy when my arms are cold, when the sun is grey, when I have a monologue in my head, when there's no "like" on your post and no love in the song. But needy is the adult here stating the list to survive beautifully, the adult not afraid to say out loud: I need!

good morning to you!

We all fall in love, we all confess our love and at some point we all stop talking sweet. I just ran into this song last night and kept thinking on how people choose to say their first I like you, I love you or I want to be by your side. Some wait for the other to say it first, some play hard to get and only show it and others just speak their minds in big (more or less romantic) gestures. I wait until the smile is returned and then there's no stopping to i. I play cautious and don't jump to things until I'm certain about what I really feel. But yes, I say I like you and then I love you in all ways I can. Mostly, I love like in a lovesong: sweet, panicky, obsessive and playful. And don't stop, only pause.

But for now, "in case I don't see you good afternoon, good evening and good night!"

obsession

There is a saying about obsessions. That they are intense and leave you shortly after. But I don't entirely agree. Sure, there is a kind of light obsessions, the ones that hit you hard and disappear instantly. And then there are the feelings that slowly grow inside you and then turn into a deep long lasting dependence and finally the great obsessions that are carved for life in your dna.

 I, for one, live on obsession mode.

Little things turn my world upside down for a second, a minute, an hour or even a week. And then, there are the big obsessions, the ones that get me craving, that keep me wondering, that make me fidget and despair until I get them in your grasp tightly. Oh, those could be the real deal. But these ones appear when I least expect them and take shape and start controlling me gradually. And they die the same way, piece by piece.

The supreme obsessions are the ones that sweep me off my feet from the start, that make my knees weak and reduce me to a junkie state of being. They never leave me, they have sculptured a soft spot in my heart and even when latent they feed from my weaknesses and beat at the same time with me. I'm not afraid of them, my luxury obsessions are signs of truth, of passion and endurance. I embrace them, offer them sugar and spice and even when they hurt, it means I have done good, that I am honest and I'm in love indefinitely with a couple of life's offerings and they will make a great story for my diary.

and nothing

I got my travelling kit ready. My stomach is full of butterflies and my bag full of surprises. Handmade surprises. And I'm waiting for the sign to take the jump.

While I am waiting, there's just a deceiving peace. Nobody makes a move and no soul whispering let's go. And still I'm ready. But the lack of an accomplice only makes way for a stubborn hesitation deep down inside. I become unable to go solo and say to myself: go! Sometimes there's no us, it's just an I; no door is broken down, no questioned is answered and you have to be the sign you are waiting for. I have to be the sign.

I look in the mirror and smile, it smiles back. It should be enough, I'm good to go, but wait, I see a flaw in my hair styling, maybe I should stay some more and fix it to look better and my dress could use some ironing too. Ah, the journey is still waiting for ...me, for me to accept all travelling conditions.