Perhaps in another lifetime

I won’t feel down, I won’t feel dead, I won’t feel doomed.

Perhaps when pigs can fly.

Where is my mind

Vreau un oraş fără memorie.

Susanna: [reading from a book] “Borderline Personality Disorder. An instability of self-image, relationships and mood… uncertain about goals, impulsive in activities that are self-damaging, such as casual sex.”
Lisa: I like that.
Susanna: “Social contrariness and a generally pessimistic attitude are often observed.”
[pauses]
Susanna: Well that’s me.
Lisa: That’s everybody

March fifteen and twenty-two

I remember us sitting in that bar filled with foreigners, just like now, raining late September over cities, I had rain boots and I sipped wine, you had unfiltered beer and I chainsmoked and you hated it so bad, not knowing you yourself will be doing it again just about a month later.

The theater in May or April, I’m so lost about that, so helpless and confusing dates and times of the year. I waited so long for the perfect movie script and it turns out I don’t even know if that’s real life any more. Pain, with no pleasure, with no second thoughts and an infinity of chances. Like February made me shiver.

I might still have demons to fetch and lock in a drawer*

Dar ziua, în amiaza mare, îmi spun că ăsta e drumul pe care l-am ales şi la capătul căruia aş vrea, atât de tare, să ajung întreagă.

*my apartment in full emptiness, the cinema, the lights out and Coldplay, every month of June and every August 13, every year and place I loved someone and never entirely actually recovered.