Today I might surprise you all with something rather different. Forget the sarcasm, forget the angriness and them acid comments that are there just to keep in the dark the real feelings. Forget them.

For a long time I’ve omitted, maybe on purpose, to reveal the real me, to reveal what truly matters. As a human, I do have feeling, I do have dreams. As a woman, or as a girl, not to forget that I’m only twenty,  I don’t know what I want unless I spend hours thinking about it, thinking about my options, analyzing myself. Maybe I finally know what I want. That should make a difference, but it doesn’t really.

I’m developing my artistic side. I’m painting, I’m drawing, writing. This is how people, just like me, express their feelings: their anger, frustration, sadness. Should I say that I’m a coward? Maybe I am. I’ve never started to draw something just because I’m happy. Excited. And my drawings tell you exactly what you need to know about my own state of mind. I forgot to mention, that I usually never show my art. Art, I’m not an artist. Just imagine a drawing and nothing more. Art that we cannot understand we like to call it ‘modern art’. Think of me as being a modern artist.

This morning I had a horrible dream. I’m not going to get into it, but I can tell you that I woke up in tears. This never happened to me. I sometimes, like I know you do as well, have terrible nightmares where people that I care about the most disappear for the rest of it. I dream that I’m being lonely with no one around to share a word with. I dream about my family being taken away from me forever. But none of this happened because of me. It’s always someone else that does it. And you know that first thing that I do in the morning? I call them to make sure they are safe and sound. If they are around, I give them the best hug of all times and I tell them how much I love them. But how about a nightmare about someone that you can’t call? You can’t touch, you can’t express for real what you think about them? How does that feel? I’ve experienced this terrible moment today, when I woke up. Should I let go all the bad things that have happened? Should I forgive and pick the damn phone? Or should I carry on just like I’ve done for a long, long time now? It’s hard to answer. I can’t answer. Not yet, I’m not ready.

You know, we wake up every morning with a purpose. Or at least it should be a purpose. Some people start their days drinking coffee and going to work, some people wake up just to take the kids to school and make the breakfast for their partners. Some people wake up alone. And they want to be alone for the rest of their lives. What does that tell you?

My biggest fear was, as I’m sure I mentioned before, to be alone. Some friends still joke about me being old, surrounded by cats. As I grew older, this fear started to become bigger and bigger. So, because of that, I’ve started to convince myself that the best to be, it’s to be alone. As in, my own empty apartment, my own boring job, my own fortress where no one is allowed ever. Sooner or later I started to add things in that apartment and in that life as I’ve described. A dog. Bottles of spirits. An obscure camera for my hobby. A fancy car in my garage to make me think I’m powerful. A promotion. A platinum card in my designer’s bag and an extra wardrobe to put my expensive shoes in. In this world, after so many adds, I still wake up on my own. I still go to bed drunk and lonely. But my fear started to disappear. Maybe I’ve convinced myself that it’s an amazing life style. And then, you get old, my dog dies, I buy cats instead, I can’t make a will, because I’ve got no one around, and I die. And for what?

Now when I think about this, I start to be more afraid. Being lonely is a disaster. That’s not what I want. So I change the scenario. I live in an apartment with my partner. We had a wonderful wedding, we both have great jobs and great perspectives and we decide to have kids. So that someone will enjoy the fruits of our efforts. And then things go wrong. We get bored of each other. We don’t see each other anymore, we find excuses not to have sex and we much rather be at work for Christmas than home. You carry on living like this because you’ve got no option. For the sake of your sanity, for the sake of your kids. And now, let me ask you again: and for what? To die unhappy? Just like that?

The whole idea made me understand that it takes a lot to build on relationships. Better be alone than with someone like I’ve described above. Better search for someone than to die alone. Where is the balance? Love? Friendship? Trust?

What is the purpose? I remember back in the days someone told me something that I found terrible at that time. And you know what it was? It was a statement regarding to a friend that doesn’t know why she is waking up every morning. I didn’t understand, I called her crazy and stupid and ridiculous. As we age though, we do find this question more and more obvious and we realize that our answers become limited. To make myself clear, we do own our lives. We make choices and we get to regret them, embrace them or change them. But, in a world where war seems to be more interesting than love, what is the good choice?

Sometimes I’m wondering if we actually have a choice. I believe that we do. That’s why this morning after I had my bad dream, I’ve decided to let go. To let go on everything. And now what? Should I go with the flow? Is this what you people do? Don’t you have a list with wishes and ideals and things to do?

I’ve promised to be sincere. As vulnerable as I fell this morning, I’ve realized that everything goes on. Nothing stops unless you decide so. Time never stops and people never change. As much I wish Dickens was wrong, he wasn’t. And indeed, I feel like I should underline:’we are who we are, people don’t change’, once said one of my favorite characters from a book. I felt the cold as the dawn started to show itself. No rays, as Manchester was cloudy. No voices, no movements. Just me and the walls. Walls are the most precious thing when it comes to memories. If we could make them talk, they will say so much. More than we could probably remember. They have been witnesses to all the great and bad things.

I also need to ass in this context that I do not own a diary no more. Not an electronic one, not a classic. Nothing at all. Instead of mixing tears with ink, I much rather forget all the bad things; as for the good moments, I’m sure one day I will write a book about them, as they will always last.

Back to my empty morning, I’ve opened my notebook. I took a pen from somewhere around and I’ve put the date. I stood in front of my empty piece of paper for about half an hour then I’ve decided to put my address, my name. Now, this supposed to be a personal letter. To someone that doesn’t need to know my name, my address, the date. So I’ve realized that I’m just writing things down because I cannot truly write what I should write. Because I can’t.

I live in a reality that it has been built in parallel with the real world. That’s my dream world, my perfect one. And there is the real world where I was in front of my piece of paper, trying to write my feelings down. I’ve tried to imagine that I’m writing to my friends, family, a doctor, I don’t know. The words didn’t want to come out. So, fair enough, I’ve closed my notebook and I went in the other room started to draw. When I draw I don’t think about casual stuff. If I’m sad, I put all my feeling on that paper. As I said before, I don’t see the point in drawing or writing when you are happy.

I do not have a point to make. If you can read between the lines, then you are in the right place, my friend. I’m in front of the crossroads. (This reminds me actually…I used to love a book…written by a Romanian novelist, Liviu Rebreanu. He always liked the closed circles. To explain, he started the book with a landscape, with a crossroad. Then, at the very end of the book, he described the same landscape, but only changed, after the whole action and that time added so much changing. ) So crossroads. Again, I need to make my choice. Until I decide what to actually write in my letter, I will stay in the exact same place, drawing around.

At the end of the day, what is it going to happen? Nothing.