The need to disappear

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It gets heavy, bold,

And strong…

It weighs

As if your whole body

Breaks and dissipates,

Into the thin air.

There is this need

To disappear, to erase

Your identity, your memories.

You vomit your feelings

On the train tracks!

Spill your pain on liquid tar.

You want to become

nobody, a stranger

with no emotional package.

Take to the road

with no destination in mind.

A frontal body collision

Covers you in ice-cold sweat.

Brutally penetrated by hate,

By anger and disappointment

You feel fucking disgusted!

By love, by words, by ridiculous promises

A distorted body covered,

In flashes of

atrocious moments of silence.

Fighting against the windmills

You and Don Quijote,

Both smashed, crashed…

One mentally, the other bodily.

You are like:

An empty glass of whiskey,

full of rancour.

You  hate what you’ve become

A conglomerate of unspoken words,

unfulfilled expectations, painful emotions!

They all got stuck in your throat.

Last time, you swallowed,

your dry disillusion.

With no saliva.

There is this need to disappear

And remove the plaque of steel

From your smokey, dirty throat.

You’ve been coughing blood

Cuz this poisoned love

Fed your veins too long.

Violent convulsions

Attack your body

From head to toe.

There is this need to disappear

To cleanse your wretched guts

There is a need for wind

For sea and motorbikes

For nature and random drunken experiences

To occupy your mind, to make you  numb

To make you forget.

There is this need to disappear

So you can finally let go…

 

I wanted to describe my country in words…

But I can’t. There is so much rage and frustration inside of me that my words would be just foolish, full of hate and no smart insights. I could write a book analyzing the political situation of Romania, the sociocultural background of the country that influences the mentality of the people, but in the end I would sum up everything by saying that this country embarrasses the EU. The most adequate adjective for the country is corrupt. And don’t get me wrong…the geographical position, the natural environment, the long-lost hospitality of people and the dying traditional arts, crafts and customs were great. Things worth loving or liking in Romania disappear rapidly with each passing day. So, nowadays, I hate this country because I hate its people. Some might condemn me and say that I am not patriotic. A lot of people will probably consider me a shame to my own country because I had the courage to state that I hate it. But guess what? I don’t mind. I am a citizen of the world, a simple human being that does not care about its nationality. And ironically enough, I’ve been treated and welcomed better in other countries I’ve lived in. The fact that I was born in Romania does not mean I should be devoted to a place just because it happened to be my birthplace. I didn’t choose it and I am allowed to criticize it and feel the way I do about it.

However, I won’t get into soliloquies here and I will let pictures describe the grim situation. One more thing, why are things the way they are? Because what is rotten comes from people’s inside. The top men and women of the country, ‘le creme de le creme’ are fucking corrupt, thieves with no scruples, illiterates with no kindness or consciousness. Money and materialism rule this country. Everyone else is simply not courageous enough to stand up to what is wrong. Incessant complaints, but no action. People want a top-down change, but the reality is that this country needs brave people who will slowly affect and bring positive changes through bottom-up approaches.

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Soil pollution exactly near big villas. Ok, let’s say you don’t care about the environment, but not giving a shit about how horrible the landscape is just outside of your house? It’s literally visually disturbing.

Impossible…but well, people in Romania live in their own bubbles….an allien invasion or public whipping of school children might happen just outside their houses and they wouldn’t give a damn.

 

Massive illegal deforestation that has been going on since the 1989 revolution. Wakey wakey, who cares about the resources of the country, about the oxygen, the balance of humans and nature, the ongoing climate change? And yeah, I care more about trees, animals and nature because they are kind and never consume more than they need for their own sustenance.

 

Lovely view for any traveler who wants to relax near the river or in the forest. Ha ha, what a brilliant joke! But who cares? I mean, people go camping and they leave tons of garbage behind and throw plastic bottles and remains in the water. Isn’t it disheartening for them and other travelers? Gosh, and they judge Roma people for living and indulging in dirt. But are they better? Nope…And I won’t even mention the environmental aspect of the whole situation. Imagine how annoying it is for environmentalists to see  dumped plastic, which isn’t even biodegradable. How much more efficient would be to recycle all those poor plastic bottles!

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If you are not rich enough or you don’t have caring, ‘loaded’ relatives to pay for your hospitalization and treatment in a private hospital you will end up in a public hospital that looks like this. And let’s not talk about Bucharest or other big cities…they might have a few better hospitals, but the rest of the country is lucky enough to even have these shitholes. People get more and more sick under these disturbing circumstances by breathing unhealthy air and by being in an unsanitary environment where germs spread with the speed of light. And let’s add to these some grumpy nurses who act like they are the queens of the hospital and the patients are beggars. And doctors who never explain anything to you and dismiss any questions you might have.

 

How do old people fare? Not much better, they have ridiculously low pensions and struggle to survive by any means possible. These old people are the ones who vote and would even sell their souls (not to mention their political votes) for some extra cash or food.

P.S: Dead people and Romanian expats from all over the globe vote in Romania in their home cities!  I knew that Romanian people believe in spirits and ghosts, but to go as far as making them vote?

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Poor Roma people. Everyone complains that they are thieves by nature and that they should be exterminated (ha ha, of course there are a lot of wannabe Hitlers in Romania, they would enjoy an ethnic cleansing).

What a lot of human beings who live in Romania associate with Roma people: “They love and indulge in their shitty, dirty, full of garbage environments.” But no one actually takes into account the fact that society pushes these people into miserable slums and that they have no choice or opportunity to improve themselves and opt out of stealing, begging and rat-like living conditions. The areas where they live have no current electricity, water or heating, no sewage systems and cities nearby dump their trash next to the houses of these ‘guilty to be born in Roma communities’.

Hey, kids, you are the future of this country! That’s it if you make it past teenagehood without becoming drug addicts, homeless, construction workers, illiterate, part of illegal prostitution networks or tortured physically or psychologically by foster parents or in orphanages.

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People love buying expensive cars that stand for their material wealth and social status in society. But when it comes to roads and highways….let me tell you that everyone should use off-road vehicles.

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The arhitecture of the country is amazing, full of spirit and decaying day by day. We have more architects than buildings in despair. However, they don’t have jobs or work in boring projects or they migrate to China because those people build a lot. And our outstanding old buildings might collapse very soon. Preservation of heritage? That’s considered heretical in Romania.

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Can you believe that Bucharest, a city of approximately 1 870 000 inhabitants, is as crowded during peak hours in the metro as Shanghai, a city of 24 000 000 people? Hell, no. Not to mention the insalubrious conditions and falling down fragments of cement at train and metro stations.

This part hurts me the most and shows me how inhuman some people in Romania are. I really wish we had a police force that concentrated on protecting all animals at any cost. For example, bears’ paws are considered a delicacy and natural furs are paraded by stylish women with no principles. I won’t comment further because animals in this country have no rights. Their lives and freedom are in danger constantly. This country is a human jungle where both people and animals suffer alike.

Anger. Another word 

Look down at my hands

And see they are cracked 

Look closer, my cuticles are bleeding

My nails so short, wounds and raw skin 

My toes are the same.

Look at my skin, is wrinkled and dry 

If only my body could talk 

If only my soul could reveal 

That it is torn, ripped, confused, drowning 

Staying afloat just because it has to.

If only my body could talk 

My mind would share its burden with a companion 

But anxiety is like:

 a snake on my body 

It comes, it bites, it poisons 

Then it suddenly disappears,

Leaving behind 

A figure so serene, so peaceful

An exclamation: What a relief! 

Nights and days, cycles of seasons 

All has become timelessness

Thoughts of overwhelming sadness 

Possess my body. 

Without reason, without asking for permission 

And I don’t understand 

Why me? Why now? Why forever?

Sometimess I feel empty 

Like a programmed machine without emotions 

They say pills might kill the love hormone

I don’t even remember the last time 

I felt alive, excited, in love, high with passion. 

I forgot when I screamed of pleasure 

My body is numb

I am jaded, in desperate need of attention.

I am lonely, I just want to sleep. 

I want to detach from everything. 

I want comfort, I want to feel again

Like I am alive.

All these contradictory thoughts 

Are fighting a war.

-To the death, they say! 

The stimuli in my brain 

Have taken up swords 

Against each other. 

And all I feel is pain, physical pain 

My body is agitated,

My heart is running down the street

I am hot and cold and fearful 

A poision like liquid travels fast 

From my hands to my head. 

I feel it in my veins, 

Like red chilli mixed with arsenic and hot alcohol. 

I feel I am gonna lose it, 

Become unconscious soon

Die without even saluting death. 

But still, 

When anxiety comes I shake off and tell myself: 

Oh, another one…it will pass. 

Then anger comes..an uncontrollable force 

Anger at the world, I feel murderous

I could plant a bomb and end humanity

In that very instant without any guilt 

Then I hate myself, for being so weak 

For succumbing to this rush of negative feelings and thoughts 

For the way I am wired, for my unbalanced hormones 

Look at me now and tell me that: 

‘Positive thinking helps a lot’

‘Other people have it hard too’

‘You will get over this’

‘We all get bad days’

‘Try to watch cartoons’

Or ‘smoke weed’ 

And I get it, people say generic things when you have a problem. 

They give advice and want to help. 

It is called empathy or so they say.

But how can you?

When I am in a constant torment, 

Because of the endless stream of ideas,

That I would rather close my eyes 

And live in my dreams 

But it doesn’t help!

They are nightmares 

So how can you? 

Serve me this bullshit on a golden plate? 

From the outside it seems like a fantasmagoric illness, a made-up ailment 

For people who complain a lot, who want to blame their unhappiness on something

And even I ask myself 

Why am I not strong enough?

Isn’t happiness my own responsability?

They say it is to be found inside?

Then why does an endless fresh stream of exhaustion and suffering 

Flood my every cell?

When I only look for my share 

Of satisfaction.

But then I realize, fuck…

Something’s wrong.

People are serving me self-help advice 

They say they feel me, 

they are here for me 

Words are empty,  

Silence more meaningful. 

A hug, a kiss, a stroke of hair 

And delving deep into my pain.

People think: (my friends, my mother, my partner, the rest of the world) 

That I should close the door to raw anger 

To disconcerting anxiety, to the subtle depression

That I should not think too much 

That I should change the topic of discussion.

This exhausts me, leaves me empty 

A body without a soul. 

Someone who sometimes thinks:

Can I just get intravenous nutrition in bed today? 

Adult diapers and from time to time 

Some human touch. 

I want to be reassured I am still breathing. 

So I decide not to barricade myself inside 

A fabricated postive energy, happy thoughts bubble 

I let my pain inundate me 

And tell myself the world is fucked up 

So if you want to help 

Please suffer with me 

Complain and swear,

Ask questions about the purpose of it all 

Be confused, cry, struggle 

Open up just one eye when the alarm rings

Decide to linger in bed today 

To be nostalgic, 

To experience movies vicariously 

To not go out into the world 

To not fulfill your role as an adult 

To not take seriously your attributions

Your responsabilities 

To still be a kid

Without depression.