Rainbow Child

… ficial. Cause I’m superficial. And I’m judgmental. And a bit snobbish.

I look at a guy and then I look at his shoes. If I don’t like the shoes, then I don’t even give him a second glance.

And there are people who are nice and all, but whom I can’t stand. And they didn’t do anything to me, they even try to make me like them and stuff, but I don’t know, I simply don’t like their faces or they way the act. And I never-ever change my first impression.

And I simply HATE men who are shorter than me. And I’m scared of men who are very, very thin. Brrr! And moustaches – omG, they’re horrible!!!

And I totally dislike people who are envious of you cause you can afford I don’t know what, people who are always complaining that they don’t have this and don’t have that, but they never do something about it. Like get a bloody job or a better one.

And that’s all for today.

The Beast strikes again! This time she’s eating my beautiful tulips.

Nothing compares with lazy Friday morning when you get up late with the cat sleeping on your shoulder and a book in your hand. And you run to the bathroom cause it’s cold in the room and oh so warm beneath the covers. And when you return you realise that you want to spend your whole day in bed, reading and eating sweets.

You start reading and the cat coils around your neck and now you have a fluffy purring fur collar. And you smile. Then you take a hot long bath and try not to think about thing you have to do, about the future, about your constant heartache. You just lie there, with your eyes closed, music coming from your room, your mind empty of thoughts. And it feels good. And it feels nice. And you never want to have to get up from the bathtub.

But the water is cold now, the feeling is gone, you have to return to reality. You look at yourself in the mirror. Your hair has this vague ugly pale orange colour, black where it has grown. Your pimples are still there, your eyes are green this morning instead of blue, your breast as small as you remember them, your tummy is a little fluffier than last time you examined it, and your legs and feet are just like a boy’s: big and without grace.

And then, walking back to your room, you see the pile of dished in the kitchen sink, just waiting for you to clean them. But you shrug and walk past the kitchen door. Your room’s a mess: the bed is undone, there are clothes on the sofa and on the armchair, books scattered everywhere, there’s hardly any space left on your desk – it’s full with mugs, papers, books and useless stuff. Yet again, you shrug and don’t give a damn.

Cause today it feels good to be yourself. No, it feels incredibly good to be yourself today! You with your obsessions. You with your colourful clothes. You acting like a spoilt brat. You reading books till you fall asleep. You with your forever changing moods. You with your egotism. You with your friends you don’t know how to cherish. You who fall in love everyday with people on the street. You with your superficiality. You with your fits of anger. You with your constant babbling. You, you, you. Me, me, me.

Uhm, iar mi-au adus ai mei vreo 60 de eugenii. Cine ma ajuta sa le mananc? Nu de alta, da’ nu vreau sa ma scarbesc de tot de ele

I had the mother of all dreams last night. Yup, I’m going nuts. No kidding. Next thing I know, I’ll be dancing naked on the streets and speaking unknown languages