Love on display

Time passed, a lot of things happened, and yet, February has arrived again. And, as in any other February, love statements are being shown off everywhere. I mean, if not during the love month, then…when?

My subjective answer to this question is daily. Because, if you love, if you really love somebody, then you love them daily. And you prove your life to them daily, not only a few days a year. That is anything but love, at least in my book.

I write this piece as V-Day’s approaching. The thing is that now, unlike a normal year, it hits different. Like anything else, love and dating have been tested a lot. And, if anything happened, it was a shift in the way we’re looking at our romantic ties.

We feel the need to be loved, appreciated, and held, now maybe more than ever. We need contact with others, physical affection, and emotional support. We’ve seen couples breaking up after years and years, and couples that have only grown stronger from this.

And we see our single friends doing their best to deal with the lack of romance in their lives. This meant going back on dating apps, talking to other people, thinking about how to merge dating and staying safe, working on themselves, or talking with their friends about it.

This also means that all the public display of perfect relationships affects them more than it would on a normal year. It does so because, unlike other years, they’re now finding themselves to be severely limited. They can’t go to singles parties, they can’t go on random dates with people they’ve chatted with for a week, or so, they can only sit there and watch.

And seeing everyone else posting their perfect, sweet, incredible relationship all over Social Media is harming their mental health more than usual. It brings up old feelings of inadequacy, of being unworthy, of being bad. These are some hard to cope with things, especially after a year of pandemic, constraints, anxiety, uncertainty, loss, grief, and burn-out. Because no one has enough mental energy to deal with all these things at once.

What should you keep in mind for this V-Day if you’re one of the single and struggling friends in your group?

No one has it all

I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again: not everything we see on Social Media is real. Most of the time we see just cut-outs of the reality. The highlights of the day, if you want.

This means that all those pretty flowers and cheesy gifts can be an expression of love, but can be as well an expression of fear and anxiety. Keep in mind that a lot of people have turned to buy stuff online as a distraction from their pandemic anxiety. Maybe you’ve done this yourself. There are always two sides to a story, regardless of what the story’s about.

The perfect relationship doesn’t exist in real life

The only place where relationships are perfect, with cute words, gifts,  and appreciation is the Internet. In real life, a relationship has also ups and downs, bad days, heated arguments, and partners asking themselves What was I thinking when I’ve picked you?

And these are the happy, ordinary cases. I am not going to talk about all the abusive, toxic relationships that are living hell in real life and all sugar and pink sequins online. Keep in mind that the number of partners reporting abuses from their significant others has severely increased during the pandemic, so most probably what you see is not what you get.

But none of these things are worth posting online, are they?

You’re not alone in this

This is not the problem of an individual, but of a big part of the population. And it’s okay, this year has wrecked us all, without any kind of discrimination. Our social interactions are being severely diminished, and we play by different rules. Even like that, it’s temporary, and we have to try our best to be patient and, you know, just hang in there.

You are worth it

Having to say this makes my heart sad, but I will do it anyway. You are worth it. Even if you’re single for a long time, or maybe your significant other and you have just split up, you’re worth it. You deserve kindness, respect, attention, care. You deserve to be supported, feeling understood, loved, important. appreciated. You deserve to have around people careful when it comes to your emotional needs, people who won’t belittle you for having a bad period or feeling low. And no one should ever have enough power to make you think otherwise about yourself.

You can still celebrate

Even if you’re single, you can still celebrate love. I mean, self-love is love, after all. So go ahead and treat yourself.

It doesn’t matter if you choose to put on some make-up and nice clothes, take a loong bubble bath, cook something delicious, watch those cheesy movies you’ve always postponed, have a videogames night, or simply sleep in early. It’s your celebration, and you get to do it your way. What matters is reminding yourself that you can be single and still have a lovely time.

Stand your ground

In times like these it can be really tempting to go back to people we share memories with. Maybe our exes, maybe some close friends that proved themselves to be bad for us.Friendly advice: don’t. The reason is the fact that, usually, the mix between nostalgia and loneliness seems to erase the downsides of those relationships. You don’t need to bring back something harmful to your mental health and overall evolution. You know and deserve better. And you will get what you deserve when you’ll stop trying to open closed doors.

These are just a few things we could do to ease our passing through the month of love. Keep in mind that all the good love stories begin with people that have fallen in love with themselves in the first place, and find their way to it. It can be journaling, psychotherapy, Zoom calls with your best friends, whatever you feel might be helpful for you.

Don’t forget that some of the relationships you see might be actually tainted, despite all the pretty moments those involved choose to share. Or that everybody tries to do their best on days of celebration, like Valentine’s Day. And this implies buying pretty gifts, pretty clothes, setting up fancy dinners, and all the special things no one is making daily.

So take a deep breath, and look around. They are human, just like you are. So take advantage of this day and do more of what makes you happy. That will be more than good enough.

Ultima ploaie



Intr-un apus timid de noiembrie se concretizeaza toata poezia defuncta si filozofia lumii, gandea el in timp ce se lasa leganat de mersul trenului, molcom si dulce, spre nicaieri. Parea un batranel fragil si sfatos, care gustase din toate voluptatile vietii.

 Cu un gest tacticos isi scoase tabacherea din buzunarul sacoului, isi aprinse o tigara si incepu sa viseze,privind melancolic fumul ce se ridica asemeni unei jertfe spre cer. La un momentdat, usa compartimentului se deschise si nu mica ii fu mirarea cand vazu ca intra o papusica. Fetita sa tot fi avut cinci anisori; era durdulie, cu pielea alba, bucalata, cu ochii ca iarba si parul inele de aur ce ii acopereau, grele, rochita ei cea neagra.

“Ce faci fetito, unde sunt parintii?Esti singura?”, o intreba vizibil surprins, iar ea, cu o voce calda, de inger ii raspunse.”Da. Mami si tati au murit, iar eu ma duc la buni, sa vad daca mai traieste. Ia uite, ploua!”

Si, intr-adevar, afara incepuse sa ploua cu picaturi mari si colorate. Batranelul o lua in compartimentul sau si deschise valiza.

  Din valiza incepura sa iasa la ivela masti impodobite, bombonele de ciocolata si o carte mare, cu poze. Fetita le privea dezorientata, nu stia daca are voie sa le atinga sau nu.

Zambetul batranelului o incredinta ca e premis, asa ca incepu sa analizeze cu ochi curiosi mastile gatite cu fulgi colorati,cu matase fina, dantela roasa de vreme si sclipici, gusta luand cu o manuta tremuranda bombonica din cutiuta mesterita din acelasi lemn fin, cu arabescuri atent sculptate in el, ca in tabachere, captusita elegant,  cu catifea rosie. Insa cartea cea mare, cu pozele-i minunate, cuceri pe data sufletul speriat al copilitei,

ducand-o in alta lume, una de basm.

  Vazu un baiat cu un bici in mana, ce era ascultat de caluti frumosi, micuti sau mai mari, dar la fel de puternici, un copil serios, cu o palarie mare pe cap, inalta parca pana-n tavan, scotea iepurasi gingasi din fundul ei, facea porumbeii sa rada, iar plantele sa zboare. Aparu, apoi, o fata tanara, cu un corp sprinten de gazela, cu pielea de nea, iar parul imbraca in negru toata faptura ei, pana la genunchi, imbracata cu o rochie albastra de brocart, cu biciul de piele in mana, facea sa joace, supuse, sapte pisici mari, spre teama, admiratia si deliciul privitorilor.

 Caci da, batranul fusese candva circar. Plecase de copil prin lume, caci simtea ca nu isi va gasi locul pe lume pana ce nu-si va indeplini misiunea; aceea de a le smulge oamenilor macar un zambet, de a le da macar o secunda de placere si fericire.

Avusese ocazia sa vada toata lumea si poate tocmai de-aia era mai bun si mai visator ca ceilalti de seama lui.

Insa inocenta fetitei fu captata cu desavarsire, ajungand sa o transpuna chiar si fizic, langa scena cea mare, ascunsa dupa cortina de catifea visinie, ghemuita, temandu-se sa nu fie gasita.

Era ultimul om de-acolo; doar ea si cei doi clovni ramasesera in arena uriasa, ei insisi parand niste uriasi pusi pe sotii pe langa micuta.

Uriasii aveau si ei masti pe fata, desenate maiastru. Aveau pielea alba ca prima ninsoare dimineata, un nas rosu de cauciuc, ochii si gura laargi, conturate cu negru. Vesmintele le erau largi si colorate in nuante tipatoare, tichii contrastante si pantofi albastri, mari, stransi pe glezne, cu varfurile intoarse in mod hilar. Singurul lucru ce ii deosebea era mimica : unul era trist, pe cand celalalt mustea de veselie.  Tortele se aprinsera, iar fata putu sa ii vada cum incep un joc vechi, care ii lega intr-un fel, facut pentru sufletele lor, ascunse dupa masti si ridicol.

Claunul cel trist lua 12 lumanari micute, in culori ce compuneau curcubeul, si le aprinse. Le-a aprins pe rand, pe masura ce se aprindeau aruncandu-le intr-un cerc mare,jongland cu ele mai lent, tot mai lent, pe masura ce flacarile cresteau mai mari.

Flacarile cresteau tot mai mult, pe masura ce clovnul vesel alerga in genunchi in jurul sau, adunand de nicaieri cutite si sageti. Incepu sa arunce cu ele in pereti, fara nici o directie clara, ca intr-un haos general. Erau 14 cutite si 20 de sageti ce zburau in aer, biciuind nemilos resturile de Dumnezeu lasate de cel de dinaintea sa, pana la apogeul nimicniciei.

  De dupa cortina cea mare, toata trairea ludica a sufletului intrus se concretiza intr-un suspin taios ca otrava din sageti. Si, pe data, camera incepu sa se stranga, scena se ingusta, cutitele si sagetile cazura la unison cu un geamat surd, reflectand in raceala ascutita a metalului toropeala mistuitoare a flacarilor cerate ce inghiteau lacome tot cuprinsul incaperii, fara pic de mila.

 Acum, copila era pusa sa aleaga: fie se ducea la unul din clovni si il ruga sa o salveze, fie murea odata cu locul unde fusese martora minunii.

Fugi spre mascariciul cel trist si ii sari in brate, cu toata nadejdea ei ca va scapa. Si, deodata, vazu cum tristetea incepe sa ii paraseasca sufletul si chipul, fiind in acelasi timp inundat de o lumina necunoscuta, ciudata, din alte dimensiuni.

  In acelasi timp, izvorul de veselie incepu sa fie umbrit de sarpele pizmei, ce ii inflorea in ochi. Se lasa la pamant, lua singurul pumnal-stea de acolo si pe masura ce locul trosnea sub forta lumanarilor, inainta viclean spre tovarasul lui, care incerca cu orice pret sa scape, atat el cat si copila, de valtoarea ce atingea asemeni unei promisiuni de razbunare cerul, si luna, si norii.

 Alerga ca nebun, caci voia prea tare sa scape prin biata copila si sufletu-i putrezit

de-atatea lacrimi, incat nici nu vazu de ce gingasa faptura din bratele sale il strangea tot mai tare de mana.

Tovarasul sau de joc si hoinarit prin lume, omul alaturi de care impartea bucurie altor oameni,era acum posedat de ura si pizma,nebun gonind cu pumnalul in mana prin marea de foc pentru a-l ucide si a sfarsi astfel totul.

 Dar din tavanul inalt incepu sa picure; era sange .Reusise sa il zgarie pe gat cu lama cea inmuiata in venin si cianura, iar acum sangele sau ucidea valtoarea cea nemernica. O salvase, dar nu asa cum voia, iar ea, pentru a-i rasplati sacrificiul, lua patru lumanari aprinse, le aseza in forma unei cruci, ingenunchie si striga o incantatie nascuta odata cu timpul, invatata de la batrana satului.

 Atunci, o gaura incepu sa se caste sub ucigasul al carui ras de psihopat cutremura ceea ce mai ramasese din cupola uriasa, facand cortina sa joace, terifiata de cele ce vazuse.

Pamantul il inghitea pe cel a carui fapta il cutremurase, insa lent, ca sa poata auzi cum rasu-i devine raget de disperare.

Cupola se darama, iar el fu inghitit in totalitate de pamant, razbunator al sangelui varsat, sub privirile impietrite ale copilei, care fugi de locul atrocitatilor plangand, tremurand.

In urma nu mai ramasese decat o feriga mare nascuta dintr-un morman de scrum, o dara de praf, mirosul de mosc, de liniste si pustiu. Totul era disparut acum.

  Cartea cea mare se terminase, odata cu tigara batranului. Acesta alese cea mai frumoasa masca din toate si i-o oferi cu sipetul in care erau bomboanele, spunandu-i duios

“Sunt ale tale acum, dar iti doresc sa nu ai nevoie de ele. Pentru mine, e prea tarziu.”

Inchise ochii si se duse si el. Unde? Acolo unde nu se stie. Fetita ofta si se aseza sa priveasca pe geam.

 Ploaia se oprise, dar trenul tot cutreiera prin marea de alb. Ninsese, iar ea era purtata spre alte tarmuri, alte povesti, alte iluzii…Caci totul e fara de sfarsit, nu doar timpul si adevarul.

 Ca ludicul unei imagini cu un copil in leagan, cadou de la si catre viata. Fara menajamente, cenzura sau resentimente. Doar ludic si-atat.

 Simplu, nu?