If a writer falls in love with you, you can never die.

Τετάρτη, 25 Δεκεμβρίου 2013

Why So Serious?

Η αλήθεια είναι ότι δεν κατάλαβα πως και πότε με πήρε ο ύπνος. Είχε φως πάντως έξω. Next thing I know, there's loud banging on my door, ακούω φωνές, το όνομά μου, έξω δεν έχει πια φως και δεν ξέρω τι μου συμβαίνει.

Ανοίγω και βλέπω μια μάνα πανικοβλημένη, βλέπω φώτα από την πυροσβεστική από το μπαλκόνι (!!) και 25 αναπάντητες. And I'm more confused than ever.

Η μάνα- δική μου- κάτασπρη, μιλάει τόσο γρήγορα που δεν βγάζω νόημα.

Η πυροσβεστική -για τους γείτονες- αλλά παρούσα στην περίπτωση που δεν άνοιγα την πόρτα υποθέτω?

25 αναπάντητες - και δεν άκουσα ούτε μία-.

Ούτε να κοιμηθούμε δεν μπορούμε πια?!

"Please tell me you didn't call the fire department" είναι οι πρώτες λέξεις που αρθρώνω μετά τα ασταμάτητα IDidn'tKnowWhatToExpectIWasCallingYouAllDayIWasSoWorriedIThoughtSomethingHappenedToYouOhThankGodYou'reAlrightMyGodIWasSoWorriedTinks της μάνας μου που άρχισε να ξαναβρίσκει το χρώμα της.

Oh God, I hate Christmas.

Apparently, κάτι πάθανε οι γείτονες, καλέσανε πυροσβεστική, η μάνα μου ήρθε να δει αν είμαι καλά λόγω εξαφάνισης, τους βρήκε πρόχειρους από τους δίπλα και τους έφερε μαζί της.

Yeah, not embarrassing enough.

I was tired. Long days, late nights, well at some point they get to you δεν είναι? Είναι φυσιολογικό, ίσως και αναμενόμενο, right? Then why all the drama?!

What do people expect of me? That I'll slit my wrists because of him? Because of all this? Sure I'll drink a lot but come on, I'm not that bad. Am I? Yeah, I'm sad and disappointed and miles away from where I want to be, and it only gets harder now during the holidays, but I'm ok, I'm hanging on in there, I was just tired.

Ok that's a lie; I'm exhausted actually.

So it's Christmas. I was telling my friends that I wanna crawl in a dark hole and stay there, but apparently, even that is not an option anymore *SIGH*.

So, what's under my Christmas tree?

Hopefully a box of love, lots and lots of beautiful pure and fulfilling love. Hopefully a box of health -physical and mental- and hopefully a box of dreams, those that I make and aspire to bring into my reality.

But above all, I hope there's a box underneath that tree with the woman I aspire to be. A stronger woman, a better woman. The kind of woman that grits her teeth and does not let you see her pain, even if you're the one that caused her that pain. The kind of woman that will not let her bitterness get the best of her, and genuinely wish you well, even if she's drowning. The sort of woman that is fearless in making mistakes and falling down, and knowing that whatever failures do not define her; they just make her stronger and wiser (and better equipped for the future).

Wishing you all a warm fuzzy Christmas x

Κυριακή, 22 Δεκεμβρίου 2013

Ήθελα Να Με Αγαπάς

So many nights, I keep having these weird dreams. Weird and vivid. Με παράξενη πλοκή, έντονα χρώματα και παρά το σουρεάλ σκηνικό που εκτυλίσσεται, εγώ είμαι ψύχραιμη εως και καλά. Κάποτε ξυπνάω μες τη νύχτα. Άλλες φορές, ξυπνάω το πρωί και σκέφτομαι 'That was messed up'.

And I see your face every time.

Η πληγή δεν είναι ανοιχτή; είναι όμως νωπή, φρέσκια, ευαίσθητη. Είναι εκεί. Και παρά τα παράξενα όνειρα, I get up and go about, κάνω τη δουλειά μου, βγαίνω, αλλά σε ανύποπτο χρόνο και στιγμή, κάτι με πιάνει, λες και το ξαναζώ όλο από την αρχή και παραλύω.

Literally, κλαίω με λυγμούς λες και μόλις έχει γίνει.

Και πάντα χωρίς να το περιμένω και χωρίς κάποιο trigger. It just happens. And it's weird. Weirder than my weird dreams. Έτσι, αναγκάστηκα να σκεφτώ τι συμβαίνει, τι ακριβώς μου το προκαλεί. I thought it had to do with forgiving. Αλλά τελικά μάλλον έχει να κάνει με το understanding. Δεν ρωτάω 'γιατί'; ρωτάω όμως 'πώς'. How? How could he? Μες τους λυγμούς αυτό βγαίνει κάθε φορά; How. Could. He.

Not why; how.

Δεν ήταν ένας τυχαίος γκόμενος που γνώρισα προχτές και δεν μας έκατσε η φάση και η ζωή συνεχίζεται. Ήταν ένας άνθρωπος που τον ξέρω (or I thought I did) 15 χρόνια, που σεβόμουν και εκτιμούσα απεριόριστα, που θαύμαζα and I looked up to. Που προέκυψε ο έρωτας έτσι ξαφνικά ήταν υπέροχο γιατί ήταν ένας άνθρωπος που ήδη αγαπούσα.

Δεν κλαίω για ένα γκόμενο. Δεν πονάω για ένα γκόμενο. Κλαίω και πονάω για τα υπόλοιπα. Γι'αυτό με πείραξε. Δεν χώρισα; έχασα ένα άνθρωπο που ήταν σημαντικός και πολύτιμος από πολλές πλευρές και στην πορεία απλώς έτυχε και τον ερωτεύτηκα.

Γι' αυτό I ask 'How?'. How could he? He. Αυτός συγκεκριμένα, how, πώς μπόρεσε να τα γαμήσει έτσι όλα? Δεν τον είχα για τέτοιο και πραγματικά δεν πίστευα ότι θα μπορούσε να συμπεριφερθεί τόσο σκάρτα. Not to me. Όχι γιατί είμαι τίποτα σπουδαίο, αλλά για την σχέση που ήδη είχαμε.

Σε κοινούς φίλους, παίρνω το blame εγώ; που είμαι στον κόσμο μου, που σηκώθηκα κι έφυγα. Στους φίλους μου, λέω καμιά κουβέντα παραπάνω, για το πως με έμπλεξε σε αρρωστημένα πράγματα χωρίς καν να το ζητήσω. Χωρίς καν να το ξέρω. Αλλά πάλι, δεν τον ρίχνω. Και όταν μιλάω με τον εαυτό μου τα βάζω μαζί μου, που I ignored some signs με την αιτιολογία ότι όχι, he would never, no, not to me, no, he's not like that.

Έτα ούλλα τσιαμέ, που λένε.

I am bitter. And sad. Αλλά ποτέ, ούτε και στην πιo αδύνατη στιγμή μου δεν του ευχήθηκα κάτι κακό ή άσχημο. Αντιθέτως λέω, να μην το δει ποτέ του. Και σιγά σιγά, άρχισα να τον εξαφανίζω. Πετάω δώρα του, άλλα τα κρύβω σε σκοτεινές γωνιές στις ντουλάπες. Σβήνω μηνύματα του, one by one. Και με αυτά, την ανάμνηση της κάθε στιγμής.

 So yeah, this isn't about forgiving, it's about understanding.

And then accepting.

And finally, letting it go.


Τετάρτη, 18 Δεκεμβρίου 2013

I Used To Be A Cactus

Considering that relationships are alive and need love, care and attention in order to grow and bloom, I'd call myself a cactus. Nope, scratch that; I'm a fucking cactus. Yeah, you give me nothing and I'm still there, enduring ,growing needles instead of flowers but surviving nonetheless without your water, love and affection.

This is me then, little miss fairy cactus being stupid naive beyond excuse, understanding and compassionate borderlining sinful and somehow -after years and years of peoples' crap- still being able to give the 'benefit of the doubt'.

A cactus is independent. It doesn't need much and it survives. It can do it on its own. Even if you offer nothing, it won't die. That used to be me in relationships; I could do it on my own. I'd try enough for both of us. I'd withstand the shit and take the minimum and manage. And -the irony!- when someone actually tried to genuinely offer me the real deal, love, care and attention, (aka, water to a cactus) I thought I was being played. And I'd drown.

Like I said, I used to be a (fucking) cactus.

But no so much anymore. After being dried up in the sun for so many years, I guess I evolved, developed a series of mutations that make me want to seek water, shade, breeziness and coolness instead of the hot hard sunbeams.

This little (fucking) cactus is not in emotional Kansas anymore.

I grew flowers.

I became one. A black orchid; a challenge to grow but easy to raise. Sensitive to touch, to too much sunlight but imposing and powerful to look at. A black orchid; mysterious, elegant but also an endangered species.

Yeah. I'm a (fucking) black orchid.

I need love, care and attention. And I'm now looking for those qualities. I need water and I ask for it. I'll show you how vulnerable I am. I won't bite; I no longer have needles and thorns. Only velvet black petals. There are a gazillion flowers out there, but only recently I have started to understand that I am one in my own right, in my own individuality and should be taken care of, exactly because of that.

And most importantly, that I'm worth it.

I used to be a cactus. But I've bloomed into something else.

Δευτέρα, 16 Δεκεμβρίου 2013

Kiss And Makeup

Ένα μεγάλο theme των ημερών είναι το forgiving. It's on my mind a lot. Αλλά δεν το'χω. Not yet at least. Κυρίως γιατί όταν το σκέφτομαι, νευριάζω, τσιτώνω, κλαίω, με πιάνει το παράπονο.

I haven't forgiven him. Αυτό διαπιστώνω από την αντίδραση μου και τα συναισθήματα που νιώθω. Και ξέρω ότι για να βρω το (fucking) peace of mind μου, I have to forgive him. But I'm still too angry. Dare I say I'm still hurt.

I don't need anyone to talk logic into me; I completely and rationally comprehend everything. Δεν αξίζει κάποιος άμα σου κάνει έτσι. Δεν ένιωθε πραγματικά για να συμπεριφερθεί έτσι. Ι understand that. Emotionally όμως, δεν καταλαβαίνω Χριστό. Emotionally, δεν θα πω ότι I'm a mess, I'm just... lost. Rationally, this will make another great story to tell about my great journey in life. Another wisdom story learnt. Emotionally όμως it left a huge void in my already beaten inner psyche. Making me question whether I have it in me. This thing about being lovable.

And forgiving isn't really about the other person; it's about you. Whether I forgive or not, will have absolutely no effect on him, it makes no difference to him, he doesn't even know and it doesn't even matter, does it? It's about me; and I know I need to make peace with this ...thing that happened and I can't figure it out. I don't wish him bad, αντιθέτως λέω να μην το δει ποτέ του, αλλά γαμώτο why am I so beaten still by this fact?

I don't want him back, I don't even miss him. And yet, he's all over the place because of this. He's out of the picture, and yet the picture I'm left with, is the one he drew. And I don't like it. But it's there. And I have to deal with it. And I don't know how.

How do you forgive? And how do you know when you have forgiven? Is it when the pain eases? When the mere fact of it, does not bring tears to your eyes? Does not bother you?

I keep busy, έπεσα με τα μούτρα στη δουλειά, I go out with my friends and have an awesome time. But out of nowhere, μόλις σταματήσουν όλα και κλείσουν τα φώτα it creeps up on me. It's there. It's raw and ugly. This feeling. And I don't know how to get rid of it.
 

Πέμπτη, 12 Δεκεμβρίου 2013

I Woke Up Not Wanting To Kiss You

Ένα από τα silver linings που έβρισκα στους χωρισμούς μου, ήταν το ότι I could reclaim bed space. Κατά κάποιο τρόπο, με παρηγορούσε που I had my bed to myself again.

Past tense.

Γιατί σιγά σιγά συνειδητοποιώ πόσο δεν μου αρέσει να κοιμάμαι πια μόνη μου. Κατακρίβεια, πόσο δεν μου αρέσει να ξυπνάω μόνη μου. Και τις καθημερινές δεν το πολυκαταλαβαίνω, αλλά on the weekends... God, that silence in the house, it borderlines heartbreaking.

Δεν μου λείπει ο Ταύρος. Άμα τελείωσει για μένα κάτι, τέλειωσε και πάει. I just miss the intimacy we shared. Που για μένα είναι ίσως το πιο όμορφο και sexy πράγμα που μπορεί να έχεις σε μια σχέση, με έναν άνθρωπο. Ίσως το βλέπω έτσι επειδή έχω κάποια intimacy issues, δεν μου αρέσει να με αγγίζουν -από κοριτσάκι, δεν κρατούσα ούτε το χέρι της μάνας μου- επομένως για να φτάσω σε αυτό το intimate σημείο με ένα άνθρωπο για μένα is a big deal.

My friends που με ξέρουν inside out, tell me that I'm keeping up well. I think the only thing I'm keeping up well is my Cosmo glass -straight up!- and my sarcastic sense of humor. Αυτοί που δεν με ξέρουν καλά μου λένε ότι φαίνομαι πιο ήρεμη από ποτέ. Yeah, I suppose he had to go.

Και it feels weird, γιατί it was a clean cut. No collateral damage, no things lingering, just a clear cut, cut. Like glass cutting glass. Clean cut. Lean, smooth cut.

I don't miss him. I just miss that feeling of being loved. To intimacy. Αυτό είναι που μου λείπει παραπάνω.

Κυριακή, 8 Δεκεμβρίου 2013

Ghosts of Months Past

Last New Years I hosted a party at my house. By the early morning, I was sitting on the floor in my sparkly party dress with one of my best friends, each clutching a bottle of champagne, laughing endlessly and making plans.

I really believed 2013 would be that year. The kind of year that changes you, that has all those wonderful things happening to you. The year that makes dreams come true.

Για αλλού ξεκίνησα, αλλού με πήγε ο δρόμος και αλλού κατέληξα. I feel sorry for all those grapes that sacrificed themselves to make that fine sparkly wine I so gladly consumed that night.

No, my project failed to launch. And it was disappointing. All that hard work, not down the drain, but locked securely in my desk. Collecting dust and other particles.

No, I didn't have a blast in Vegas on my birthday. Instead, έμεινα εδώ και χόρεψα ζεμπέκικο and drank my sorry ass silly to forget my heartache.

No, Prince Charming did not come along. I thought he did but turns out, he was too charming too keep his hands and dick to himself. And I was too hopeful stupid to believe otherwise.

Unfortunately, 2013 was more tears than laughter, and that's the saddest part. However, δεν μπορώ να τα ισοπεδώσω όλα, γιατί it brought me things I never even considered.

A job opportunity I was reluctant to take, because I feared I couldn't do it. And I pulled it through with flying colors.

An emotionally horrible summer to put things into perspective and see who my real friends are.

A long -and much needed- trip  journey away from everything and everyone. A big 'fuck you' in my face, to my life, to everything that was familiar to me. And I just took the plunge -even after a lot of doubt and consideration- and never looked back.

And I came back. And even though everything was the same, I could no longer see it that way. Because I changed. Everything feels so tragically linear and I feel different.

And unlike last New Years and every other New Years before that, I really don't know what I want to expect for 2014. There is no plan this time. There are no wants. No dreams. No resolutions. Maybe I got up on the wrong side of the bed today. Maybe I'm no longer bothered. Maybe I'm just scared to admit that it's done. This place, this life, these people, done.Scared to admit that it has been for a while and I'm just realizing it. Coming to terms with it.

I just want to hear dirty sexy saxophone music, close my eyes and dance in the rain. And I don't expect the majority of people to understand.

Πέμπτη, 5 Δεκεμβρίου 2013

Talk Dirty To Me










Now go out there and make this day worthwhile.