O parte pe care nu pot sa o explic este neputinta mea de a scrie. De cand ma stiu puteam sa ma exprim in scris mai bine decat puteam vorbi . Era momentul in care disparea orice urma de orgoliu sau nesiguranta . Scriam pagini intregi despre orice.
In scris am fost mereu sincera .
Problema mea este ca acum nu mai pot scrie . Nimic . Am simtit nevoia sa postez pe acest blog , dar nu pot.
Am gasit un citat dintr-un film ( The Holiday - 2006 ) pe care l-am vazut zilele astea cand imi era mai rau . E fix filmul pe care nu il vrei sa il vezi dupa o despartire. Cu happy end, cand toti traiesc fericiti pana la adanci batraneti si dragostea adevarata invinge si kkturi de genu.
Oricum , am inteles ca e normal sa simti asta .. deci banuiesc ca nu am innebunit inca :
Oricum , am inteles ca e normal sa simti asta .. deci banuiesc ca nu am innebunit inca :
" I understand feeling as small and as insignificant as humanly possible. And how it can actually ache in places you didn't know you had inside you. And it doesn't matter how many new haircuts you get, or gyms you join, or how many glasses of chardonnay you drink with your friends... you still go to bed every night going over every detail and wonder what you did wrong or how you could have misunderstood. And how in the hell for that brief moment you could think that you were that happy. And sometimes you can even convince yourself that he'll see the light and show up at your door. And after all that, however long all that may be, you'll go somewhere new. And you'll meet people who make you feel worthwhile again. And little pieces of your soul will finally come back. And all that fuzzy stuff, will eventually begin to fade. "
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