Friday, May 20, 2011


Μ'αγαπας. Μ'αγαπάς;
Σ'αγαπώ; Σ'αγαπώ; Σ'αγαπώ...

Αμα ξεκινούσα να γραφω ολα οσα λέγονται, όλα οσα διαδραματίζονται....

Saturday, May 14, 2011

Σαν το μικρόοο φαντασματακι τριγυρνώ.....

Είμαι ερωτευμένη, ειμαι καλά. Θα επανέρθω σύντομα.

Sunday, May 08, 2011

Dear "John"

I m thinking of you, I don’t feel I have the right. You are going through a break up long overdue, it’s something that is deep and personal and there’s sadness and heartache and I have no place to be there, even in thoughts. I also don’t have the right to think about you because you are younger. I don’t feel it but I force myself to remember it and then I feel a bit ashamed. I also don’t have the right to think about you because I know the odds this is just a phase are tremendous. And if I think about you, I feel the feelings overflowing, and I get scared. Knowing this is probably something we fed each other as a sugar coated pill, as a rebound thing is comforting me. I don’t want to believe it’s real, it’s much easier if it’s not. I know it’s not. I know it’s not….I know it’s not.
But as I sit here and I try not to think about you, and I find million reasons to kill the buzz by thinking that u might realize that u 2 need to be together, or that you will go and start going out and have fun and outgrow this thing we have, I smile I don’t hurt and I find it fitting.
Cause it’s not real, I know it’s not.
But then how to explain its 4 30 and all I m thinking about is your voice, your face, your hands, your smile (that I ‘ve neer seen) the feeling you must be feeling and my heart swells up and I want to tell you how much I need to run to you and cuddle you, kiss your forehead, hold your face. How can I explain falling in love with you?
How can I explain my joy watching you doing something very difficult and painful that will give you what you need. And I m not a selfless saint saying I won’t mind if you need something other than me, but it’s too soon to feel actual hurt, and besides…what I feel is not real.  I know it’s not.

I wake up a few hours later and I think of you, but it’s not real. I wonder how you are, if you think about me too and I hope you are not and I hope you are. I know I won’t see that little green dot but I go to my computer anyway, it’s a piece of you. The only form of reaching out that I have.
All I can do is wait. For you to come to me, I don’t even know when, and my heart skips a beat. I m hoping way down inside, that you are more detached and logical than me. I can’t afford to be more than that. I got wings now, I paint I write, I m filled with energy, I am how I’ m supposed to be. 
You might never come back to me.Not the same, anyway. 
But I think the artist that I am, that creature that needs to express and needs to feel and fly in other pink dimensions is on to something here.I found my muse.
All I can do is wait and see. And write.
Channel this agony and anticipation, this tingling sensation that is based on something that isn’t real. I know it’s not. It cannot be.

I know it's not....
I know it's not


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