I lost myself. This is not where I was supposed to be, this is not who I was supposed to be. This is not me. I sit here and ask myself: where and when have I lost the way to being me?
How can I even tell when I took the wrong turn or made the wrong step when I don't even know which was the path I was supposed to walk on. All that I know is that all that is going on is not quite right. And I don't seem able to find a way out of all this. Maybe this is really who I am. And all along I mistakenly thought of whom I supposedly was.
I really don't know anymore who I am or where I am. I don't know me anymore. I don't dream anymore, and I don't seem to have any hope left. I have become the one that I promised I would never be: the dreamless one.I'm empty.
...
De ce se nasc ingeri fara aripi? Cum sa isi ia zborul fara aripi? De ce ingerii de azi sunt tristi? De ce in ochii lor nu mai e cerul?De ce in palme nu mai au zarea?
Pentru ca in fiecare zi un vis moare. Si cu fiecare vis un inger isi pierd aripile. In fiecare zi e un sarut care se pierde intre inimi, o atingere care isi pierde mana dar nu isi gaseste fruntea, un pas care isi ia zborul in aer dar nu mai atinge pamantul, o privire care nu mai vede in ochii celorlalti decat o palida reflectie a sa. In fiecare din noi e un minut de rautate. In mine e o seara fara luna, fara stele, fara vant. In mine e o liniste ce doare, o liniste care ascunde mult prea multe cuvinte in ea. In mine e tacere. Si in tacere se pierd vise.
In mine am vrut sa fie furtuna, sa fie o ploaie de viata, un vant de visare. In mine am vrut sa fie pasii pierduti, sarutul uitat, mana stangace. In mine am vrut sa fie pamantul, sa fie si luna si stelele tale. In mine am vrut sa fie visare.
In mine e golul. In mine e tacere. In mine e moarte.
