Thursday, November 12, 2015

Death, daily

Niciodata nu am simtit nevoia sa ii spun cuiva acest lucru, nici acum nu simt nevoia, insa am chef.
Cel putin o data la trei zile, mergand pe strada, sau in orice loc public, imi imaginez cum ar fi ca toti strainii care ma inconjoara, sa se sinucida in urmatoarea secunda, prin metoda cea mai la indemana.
Imi imaginez cum femeia cu gatul lung, cearcane si burta umflata care arata ramasitele unei sarcini, sa isi inchida ochii si sa paseasca linistita pe asfalt, in fata masinii care vine cu viteza, soferul nebanuind in momentul precedent cum i se va schimba ziua. Imi imaginez cum sar oamenii in grupuri de cinci, cand ajunge metroul care va aluneca mai departe, uns de zeama cadavrelor proaspete. Imi imaginez persoanele care stau in balcoane, cum isi pun un picior si apoi pe celalalt, peste bariera dintre ei si cazatura brutala care urmeaza le puna capat suferintei. Imi imaginez femei, barbati, cu posete, serviete, cum au in acestea pregatita o viitoare supradoza si se grabesc asa de tare pe strada si la metrou pentru a pune in aplicare ultimul plan din existenta lor. Ma uit prin vitrinele bancilor si imi imaginez cum isi baga functionarii pixurile in venele lor nerabdatoare si se uita zambind si bucurosi unii la ceilalti, in timp ce se scurge viata din ei. Imi imaginez o mama cu bebelusul in brate cum trece peste un pod, cum pupa copilul pe frunte, il indeasa in bratele unui trecator si sare de pe pod, in valurile agresive, inghetate, care ii vor zdrobi trupul si il vor izbi de pietre...pana la nimicire. Ma uit la case in care imi imaginez ca cineva a pornit gazul si acum doarme, iar in camera de alaturi, altul atarna cu streangul in jurul gatului albastrui.
Cotidianul cadavrelor...

Wednesday, November 11, 2015

Memory

Memories.
That is what we are left with. The only way to immortalize those beautiful moments that we wish would never end, is through memory. The only way we immortalize horrible moments, against our own will, is also by saving a memory - represented by the word trauma. Every bad memory that we have not because we want to, but because it left us with a scratch mark on the soul or it took a big bite out of it, is called a trauma. Just like there's no stopping time when we wish we could, there is no turning it back either.
Traumas shape, build and sculpt our demons, painting them a shade darker each time. And these demons will consume you, you will have to fight, sweat, to supply enough life for both - it and you. It will gradually be more and more prominent in the moments when you feel angry, disappointed, threatened. It will darken your reactions to all the pinches and punches life throws at you, and evil branches out from within. This will eventually result in taking over your actions too, you will be so full of venom that you will want to spew it all over the place, all around you. You will hate and attack with no apparent reason. Thus, your reactions to traumas gathered up will become actions of the demon taking control.
Every moment will stick to you forever...like a blessing or a curse.