* * *

You'll never be so alone as you were that night.
Welcome to Lone Valley.
A kind of town that emerges in front of your vision one step at a time.
Everything is hazed. The air itself is hazed, as if it creates a melancholic mist. One you can only see in a lucid dream.
It looks surreal.
Too many autumn leaves, streets too wet from the rain, streetlights way too blurred, nobody anywhere, cats that disappear only a second after you saw them.
Like you're all alone in the world.
Not that you actually are, no. It's like a dream you decided to fall asleep in, because you feel out of place in the world as you know it.
You really are all alone, but then again you alone chose that loneliness.
Why? What is the matter?
You know, You suppose you do.
Because the dark wet streets that devour your almost muted footsteps are whispering the answer all over town. Do you hear what they're saying?
"You going out on an existential walk that makes you contemplate does not make you any different than any other person on this planet. You are nothing special.  You are just another human being dressed in gray who has fallen into the dimension of loneliness. Everyone walks down these streets sooner or later, for loneliness is not just a small lane, it's a town. One that's cut off from the rest of the universe.
It expands and becomes a universe itself. One that is empty."
And as you stand still on one of the paved and wet sidewalks, under one of the many weak and yellowish streetlights, you cannot help but question the realness of your own being.
This street right now is the centre of the universe, and you have a choice - you can either breathe in all the lives you could have ever lived, along with the sadness of opportunities forever missed, and the pain of all the precious people you have lost or never knew, and who now haunt your memories like desperate ghosts, or you can let go and merge with the blackness of space.
You sigh as you realize you're only human. You have never had a choice. Your way is the way of imperfection, solitude, and waiting. Your way is the way of hope. A hope that will come before the last breath, right before the tyranny of despair, a millisecond before Death claims the throne.
Oh my poor, waiting human.
Welcome to Lone Valley.

Sometimes...

Sometimes, when the grip of reality squeezes me so tight, I cannot remember why I could be sad and how come this would ever be possible.
But sometimes, when the day is over, as I rush home, or leave coffee cups only half drunk, or forget to put that sticky piece of paper on the mirror... in that very moment between hurrying and shortness of breath, when I can actually inhale and exhale...

Then I think of you.

Then I can remember why I'm sad, or at least melancholic about it.
It's because I've never seen your smile with my own eyes. It's because I highly doubt I can ACTUALLY meet someone like you.
As long as you're my inspiration, you're my nostalgic sadness, too. For the world where you exist in I cannot reach.
And sometimes... between all my duties, all my responsibilities and tasks... Between all my issues that need attention and tackling... Somewhere among all the people I meet every day... I swear I can see your face. A quick and vogue reminder of a better place. A magical place. One where the Unconditional lives.

The love that might never happen to me.

Early Mornings (Or The End I'm Craving)

Yaaaawwwwnnn........
Every single time. It's always too early and somehow time is never enough.
I know every move I make, following the tortured opening of my eyes at 5 o'clock. Oh, God. I always touch the floor with the same leg (appears to be the left one). Always put on my clothes in the same order, always put my makeup on in the same way. My face is one and the same every morning.
No time for coffee. I grab one on the run.
One hour of walking (I friggn' hate public transport).
My. I need escapism at any cost. One month stays between me and my desired vacation.
I am going to forget who I am and where I am situated most of the time, for a week or so. Just me, my friend, and the sea. I don't wanna know anything else. Especially the fact that time is never enough. I'll just disappear to the world.
Poof! ^.^

Махам се.

От хората се махам.

Снощи преди заспиване си мислех как няма да има и най-микроскопична полза от това, че записах психология. Снощи достигнах до извода, че няма да мога да се справя. С тях.
С вас.
Но няма нищо, което да не е наред; аз много ви обичам. Колкото повече ви обичам обаче, толкова по-малко ви вярвам.
Не мога да си представя, че след години ще попивам тайни, ще разкопчавам сърца, ще оголвам рани, ще извършвам дисекции на души...

И ето го парадоксът. Хората ще трябва да се доверяват на мен, не аз на тях. При това да ми се доверят достатъчно, за да ме пуснат да маневрирам вътре в тях. И тук има още една аномалия.

Те се боят. Всеки един от нас се бои да се покаже. То и затова думата "безусловност" вече я има само в речниците. Те няма да се страхуват от мен - психолога, но ще бягат в пълна паника от мен - човека.

Интересно кога и как е започнало всичко това.
И кога и как "уязвимост" и "слабост" станаха думи, равнозначни на "смърт".

Интересно. Наистина.
Затова и аз се махам.
От хората се махам.

И ако някога стигна до кабинет по психотерапия, ако някога срещу мен започнат да сядат хора, усещащи описаното дотук, то аз ще ги обичам. Но ще им повярвам чак когато се излекуват.
Чак когато повярват.

Така че - махам се. Отивам да се крия. Отивам да консервирам и запазя онова, което си заслужава да бъде подарено на някой, който вярва.

Разбира се, че обичам хората.
Истината е, че никъде не отивам. Именно затова се махам.

Винаги има едно "Но..."

Погледът - мътен.
Юмруците - свити.
И някаква безметежна болка в гърдите.

Стаята - празна.
Прозорецът - тъмен.
И някаква тежест спуска се стръмно.

В огледалото - образ.
Сърцето - заключено.
Стегнато, свито, измъчено.

Но...

Сред самотата - докосване.
Надеждата - стресната.
И сърцевината май не е фатално засегната.

Доверието - смачкано. Но разгъващо се бавно.
Като криле на пеперуда е събудено.
Мисля. че мога да вярвам. Мисля, че мога да бъда.

И като че ли... да обичам, без да съм принудена.

10 Grateful Things on the 5th of February

1. The sunny, warm weather
2. Passed my most difficult exam
3. Saw my colleagues and laughed real hard for the first time in so long
4. Took a sweet nap
5. That helpful and sweet colleague of mine
6. Proved to myself I can pull through whatever
7. Heard from my family on the phone
8. Tidied and reordered the stuff in my room
9. The balance in Universe was clearly demonstrated to me
10. I became a little stronger!

And It's Over Only to Begin...

Here it is. 31st of December. Last day of 2010.
What happened?!
Another year went away.
Did I learn something? Absolutely.
How to stand my ground, how to suppress tears, how to smile wider. I've learned that stubborness is a great strength, friendship can survive through hell, nerves are precious, life-saving threads which I must not waste in vain, that people come and go, but some will always stay.
Did I meet new ones? Yes.
Weak ones, depressed ones, sad ones, strong ones, weird ones. I don't regret no one.
I said "goodbye" to many of them, but I also said "Hi" to some.
What did I feel? All emotions possible.
I grew up a little more.
I changed the way I look.
I changed fear into bravery.
I changed weakness into stubborn strength.
I just changed.
Change is something I like. Change is good; it's dinamic, which means life. Static is lack of progress, which means death.
I wanna live.

Okay, 2011, show me what you got. If not, I'm taking it myself without even asking. I'm taking that change. My way, or no way at all. :)