What’s a life worth?

light-in-darkA stranger among us! one shouted and they gathered around me. Wild and restless, with fire in their eyes, they’re more than shadows. The essence of everything we hide, the projection of every restrained reaction, the purest form of dark, set free in a hopeless attempt to feel alive. And once you cross the bridge, you’re there, in their world.

She’s here to find rest! one laughed, knowing for sure that the path is rocky, the road is twisted and the voice is wicked. I cannot lie nor hide that I’m here for a reason and this reason is stronger than my survival instinct. Because one of them holds the key to my tormented heart. I need it back so that I can fix my brokenness.

She has the eyes of a child! one whispered and they all remained silent. Innocence, what a sweet, old fashioned notion! What a powerful weapon in the face of bitterness. It was my shield and my armor when he made the walls crumble down. The one thing that shadows cannot touch, because its essence is divine.

-Don’t listen to them, just give me your hand and rest for a while, here in my arms.

And the shadows disappeared. He told me to imagine a perfect world and he created it for me. Stars in the sky and the gentle touch of the ocean on my bare feet. A gentle wind through my hair and a pure, golden light that never harms my teary eyes.

I can make it last for ever. Our dance, our embrace, our love, I can make them eternal.

But there’s always a price when it comes to illusions. My life, my world, my values and my faith. My soul…

-You’re holding on to invisible things, believing in unreachable powers. Yet we’re real. So tell me, who’s the shadow? Aren’t you tired to feel so invisible? What’s a life worth when you dream of warmth in a frozen world?

I suddenly remember my reason. “Give me back the key, please. I need to dream again. I want to love again.”

It’s dark around us and the shadows are back to haunt me. Repeating obsessively the same words, mocking and insulting the things I believe in. Stealing little pieces of light and smashing them into the river of fire. What’s a life worth? What’s your life worth? That you cannot give away? and they shout, they scream, they yaw.

-If I give you the key, will you give away your life? A small price for feeling whole again.

And right there, looking in this yellowed eyes demon, I knew the answer.

I was whole all this time, I was complete. I wandered in dark places, holding the key right in my hands. I thought life’s cruel just because love wasn’t given to me on a silver plate. I fought the wrong battle. Against myself.

Forgive me, Lord, for I didn’t know what I was doing. Betrayed by my own pride, harmed by my own ego, I almost forgot. There’s no human measure for what’s a life’s worth. There’s no human value for a soul. 

Because every life and every soul is worth the paradise itself.



NOTE: I included this post in the “Ellie – the untold story” category because it was part of a dialogue I had with her. The conclusion, thought, was added out of therapeutic purposes.


Where love is stronger than fire…


-I’m sorry for being late…

-Well, we’re like…twenty years late. So what’s another hour? You’re beautiful.

-Thank you, uhmm…you’re beautiful too.

She was a beautiful girl, even if she has never admit it to herself, but, twenty years ago, we were both struggling to accept ourselves for who we are. We were there, for each other, in our daily attempts to build our identities as teenagers in a post-communist society. We were mirrors to each other when the real mirrors seemed broken.

-You always said that my mirror is broken…

-You used to talk about yourself in such low terms, it was heartbreaking to even listen…

-I never understood what’s about me that you like so much!

-No…you understood right, but you never accepted.

-I’m sorry for…I’m just so very sorry…

-Don’t be, this is how it was meant to be. Losing you was terrible, but it seemed the only way…

I want to hug her, but I know I shouldn’t. This woman standing in front of me knows pain, sadness, rejection more than anyone…And it was me, the one who caused…

-What are you thinking about?

-We need to talk about that afternoon…I need to…

-I know, it’s okay. Let’s talk about it…

She takes my hand, just like she did twenty years ago, in that sunny afternoon…the day that created this gap in time. The day when we lost our friendship.

(1998) twenty years ago:

She takes my hand and, somehow it feels different. I confessed her, a few days ago about my struggle with anorexia, about my nightmares, my fears. I felt she changed and I was afraid that the burden was too heavy. And now, when she told me that she has something to tell me, I just…

-About the other day, I didn’t meant to sound so crazy…I’m sorry, I was only…you must think I’m a crazy monster or something…

-Stop, please, stop saying such horrible things. I love you.

-Oh, I love you too! You’re my best friend, the sister I never had…

And I open my arms to hug her, but she continue to look into my eyes with an intensity I never saw before. She comes closer and I feel…uncomfortable, strange…

-It’s a different kind of love. I look at you, you’re perfect…in every way…and you’re my soulmate. I am in love with you.

Her hands are cupping my face and I’m lost in this nightmare. She leans over and now she’s so close that her lips are almost touching mine. And all I want is to run away…

-NO! This is wrong! You cannot feel this! You’re just confused…I’m…I can’t believe…just don’t touch me like this…

She’s so hurt and I’ve done this. I rejected her. She’s crying…

-I thought…that maybe you…would…feel…the same…Please don’t tell anyone, okay?

She ran. I ran too. And we kept running for twenty years…


I wonder if she was ever able to forgive me. Maybe not. But losing my best friend was enough punishment for being so closed minded, so ignorant and judgemental.

-You’re thinking bad things about yourself again, I know it…every time you do it, you have this shadow in your eyes.

-I deserve the bad things…

-No, you don’t. We were 18, we were kids. You grew up believing that, any moment, the fire of hell will burn you alive. Sometimes I think that this fire only exists in your own mind. So, put an end to this torment.

-I can’t.

-I still love you. I don’t want another twenty years of running away. Let me be your friend, if friendship is what you feel. I’m here for you.

And I hug her, I finally hold her tight, I finally cry with her. I finally say the right words.

“I’m here for you too.

Because there’s a place where love is stronger than the fire of hell.

And that place is your heart.”


Life after love…


He asked me “How’s life?” like we would be best buddies, like our paths would have never separate, like he wouldn’t know a thing about the abyss he pushed me into.

So I did what I know best: I smiled and kept my head up.

“Life’s good, like any life. Good days and bad days. Busy days mostly.”

A woman is strong by nature. Weakness, fragility, vulnerability and teary eyes…they’re out of my league. So he is. And the only regret concerns my broken illusions.

“Are you okay?” he said, but I sense no worries in his tone of voice.

“Of course I’m okay, thank you for asking. How about you?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

He’s not good, even if, for a long time, I believed in him. I thought I see a light surrounding him, like he would be an angel. I even imagined that, somehow, God speaks to me through his voice. He’s not a good person, I’m not a good reader.

He has no idea about love, I have no clue about people. End of story.

But life…oh, I know about life.

Life after love is bitter-sweet. Is a constant battle between a normal feeling of anger/pain/rejection/sadness and the joyful contemplation of a feeling so beautiful, so special and pure: love.

And love was there, in my soul, by the grace of God, not by the mercy of a man. I loved him because my heart was ready to blossom, not because of his poisoned poetry.

I loved him because I needed to love. I felt beautiful, I felt complete, my faith grew stronger and my wings reached to the starry sky. My only mistake was to believe that all these miracle were because of him. So when he took away his attention/poetry/lies I was so lost…

So lonely, so sad…(I called Heaven many times, asking about my “angel”)

But now, seeing him in front of me, I feel no pain. I guess I finally understood.

“Life after love is pretty good.”

“Excuse me?” (oh yes, let’s play pretend, let’s say you don’t understand my English)

“Well…you’ll never know, ’till you’ll try it.”


“Love, of course. So you’d know how life feels after…”

“I can’t take this anymore.”

“Ohhh, I’m sorry, I forgot! You’re only a shadow. You don’t have life because you cannot feel love. Well, then…”

Feel free to vanish! 



From this silly, dippy, goofy heart of mine!


“Give me a sign!” he said. “A sign that you’re real. And I promise I wont question your miracles, never again!”

“Show me the scars, give me a proof!” he begged. “A proof that you went to the deepest of hell. And I swear, I wont deny you, never again!”

“Fill my mind with images of Heaven!” he cried. “So that I’d know what’s beyond the gate. And I give my word to you, I wont reject you, never again!”

I gently touched his face and took his hands, to help him stand.

You’re being so, so silly…

He laughed. “Maybe…but, from this silly, dippy, goofy heart of mine, words pour like golden crystals. And they create smiles. They build love. So I’ll be silly! Again and again and again…!”

But he broke his promise.

I filled his mind with images of Heaven, so beautiful, so bright, so pure. He took every one of them and tear it in little pieces, throwing them savagely in a sea of tears. “There’s no gate and there’s no Heaven” he shouted angrily, rejecting my open arms…

I showed him my scars and I told him about a kind of pain he’ll never have to endure. It was out of love, it is still…out of love. “Fake!” he pushed me away, warning me to stay out of his way…

In the end, I gave him what he always asked for. A sign. He’s alive because of this sign and, for a moment, he was grateful. A brief moment, because his arrogance became stronger and he took it for granted…every breath of fresh air that was given to him out of mercy. My mercy.

He lost the poetry along with his innocence.

His music is nothing but disturbing noise and his lyrics are filled with venom.

So tell me, why would I still love him? Why would I still protect the man and the whole mankind, from the adversities of these wild times?

With a saddened heart, I listened to His message, but how would I answer…when I’m so small, when my faith seems so fragile and poor…

Still, falling on my knees, I let my heart speak the honest truth. The only truth I know, the only truth I’ll always believe:

Because, my Lord, in these silly, dippy, goofy hearts of ours, we still carry a little light. It’s in the name of your LOVE that we, the lost ones, the arrogant, the self-sufficient, the angry and the sad ones…we ask YOU to make our lights brighter.

So that we could find forgiveness. 

So that we could be healed.


I’ll forever wonder why…

moteris-74390030He loves her with a tenderness he could never share with another. His need to feel her close to his body overcomes every bitter memory and, in his mind, they’re happy together. He holds her hand and softly kisses her forehead, always longing for more of her sweet perfume…

She loves him with a passion she’ll never feel for another. Her need to feel his fingers through her hair, playing, teasing, caressing her bare shoulders overcomes every moment of anger. She’s longing to hold him a little longer, desperately feeling that, any moment now, he’ll be gone. In her mind, he already left her…

He likes the image she created for the world. A strong woman, a warrior, a voice for the rights of the defenseless. He could listen to her speeches over and over again and he would agree to every word. He wants her stronger, braver, more powerful! He needs her to go there and carry the battle, win the war, celebrate the victory! He doesn’t know about the tears in the darkness…

She likes the image of him reflected in other women’s eyes. Yes, she noticed how they stumble, how they loose their words or even get all blushed in his presence. How they play with their hair or flutter their eyelashes, how they bite their bottom lips and bounce their legs, hoping he’ll appreciate the sensuality of their body language. She loves that he never gives them any attention. She wonders what’s wrong with her, why isn’t she jealous? She doesn’t know about his secret fantasies…

He wants her in control, in charge, to make the choices, to establish rules and to make people follow them. He never sees how tired she is and, when she’s smiling through her sleep, he doesn’t know that she dreams of a prince who’d fight shadows and demons and every scary creature in her mind, saving her heart…

She never told him that, sometimes, she feels fragile and scared, like a little girl. He never said the magic words. It will be alright. That’s all she needs, from time to time.

He’s generous and respectful and he always compliments her.

She’s kind, sweet, polite and graceful, always praising his intelligence and his talent.

He knows she’s the right one for him.

She believes he was her soulmate. It should had been forever.

They still love each other, they still hold each other’s hand, they still want this story to have a happy ending.

So, what’s wrong with this picture? What’s about this world that pushes people apart instead of bringing hearts together? Why are they in different places, feeling lonely, cold and frightened even while sharing the same bedroom?

And I’ll forever wonder why…

…and I’ll be longing for more ’till the day I’ll die.





All credits for the picture go to: https://www.himalayaninstitute.org/amrit-blog/inner-quest/transcending-loneliness-find-joy/


I already left a thousand times…

165aTVpzTXGMXu1azUdy_IMG_8468He took my hand, it was frozen. His lips on my fingers made it better. The pain was gone, so were my questions, as I decided to simply live the moment. To have this affair, to be his. No self blaming, no harsh judgement, no rules this time. We’re not in love…

Promise me…

I nodded, knowing for sure that I’d promise anything and I’d follow this promise to the end of the world. Mesmerized by his burning eyes undressing me, I gave him the key and I became his willing prisoner in this game of desire.

Promise me you wont leave while I’m bringing you a cup of hot tea. 

I tried to smile, but my sadness made it impossible. He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, while his eyes never left mines, not even for a second. Almost like a secret, invisible bond, created between us, was meant to keep me there. A strong force that’s becoming so fragile day after day, killed by frustration and resentment. But tonight, we’re just a woman and a man in the flickering candles’s light.

Tell me you wont run away. Say that I’ll find you right here, swear that you wont disappear out in the darkness!

Where am I suppose to go? I whispered the words to myself, not truly trusting, not really believing in my own heart. I’m okay now, without knowing what’s beyond this night. That’s the closest to happiness I’ve been in years. I’m afraid to feel more, I don’t want to overthink his words, his touches, his warmth.

I already left him a thousand times in my mind.

And I came back a million times more. It’s not impossible when you’re in love. I escaped in my fantasies, I created parallel worlds, I played my own part and I invented a new role for him. So it’s easy for me to leave…

He took me in his arms, keeping me warm, tasting the orange flavor of the tea from my lips. I’m sure it’s a dream, I’m convinced that the morning bed will be just as empty, just as cold, just as lonely. I’ll judge myself for allowing myself to feel. I’ll blame myself for being weak and lost, for fantasizing about tenderness and passion.

Be mine tonight. 

And again, this bond between us gets stronger, brighter. His eyes are piercing my soul, his hands are re-discovering the woman in me. And I remember every word, every step, every year. A boy and a girl. A lifetime of love. Where is he? Who’s this stranger, pretending to break walls while he’s only breaking my heart?

I was wrong, time did not destroyed us. We did it ourselves.

I’m leaving him again tonight and he knows it. The boy I love got lost somewhere, on the old, dusty path of time. I’m going there.

To bring him back home.





All credits for the image go to https://unsplash.com/search/photos/love


I see it in your loving eyes…


“Be careful, people may notice.”

The boy was standing right next to me in the bus station, but, if it wouldn’t have been for his playful smile and his bright blue eyes, looking straight into my soul, I would have thought he’s talking to someone else. Even so, I decided to play it carefully.

-Excuse me? I don’t understand.

“It seems like you lost a few feathers. People will realize you’re an angel. Pretty hard to hide it, especially when you’re just learning how to use your wings.”

I guess it is the shock on my face that made him laugh even harder, but (to my own surprise) it didn’t bother me to see him laughing. And I find myself laughing with him.

(Laughing? Me?)

“Can I introduce myself to you, Angel? My name is David and I’m a…”

But I didn’t let him finish his sentence. I want to say something funny or spiritual, or to lean to touch his reaching hand, so I move my arms and it happens!

Feathers! White feathers! All around me!!!

And they’re many! And (surprisingly, again!), in my desperation, I jump and I move my arms up and down! And then I see…

“Oh, please don’t fly away. Stay with me!”

I’m aware of my blushed cheeks and I’m also aware that I’m a bit weird, jumping like I’m ready to fly. But, at least, I see now where the feathers are coming from…

“It was when you searched in those bushes, saving the injured kitten. That’s when you tore up your coat.That’s when you captivated my poor, helpless heart.”

(Yes, I did it…I saw the old lady in front of the bushes, desperately trying to save the kitten. Her fur baby. That’s how she called it. I protected my hands with the coat, while fighting the thorns and the kitten’s sharp claws. But that’s a whole different story…)

-Are you a poet, David?

He stopped laughing a while ago, but his smile still warms the air around us.

“Guilty as charge! And you, Angel, are you a Muse? The kitten’s guardian angel? Or just mine?”

I smile back, watching the white feathers around us, dancing in the wind.

-In need for my guardian angel, I guess. Just look at me, how I’m tearing up and breaking and…”

He stops me from speaking, removing a feather from my hair, with the softest, gentlest gesture.

“You can fix this, I see it in your eyes. Your loving eyes…don’t think they go unnoticed. Protected and beloved, that’s how you walk through this world.”

-That’s beautiful! Is it from one of your poems?

“It will be one day. A poem about the miracle of a feather lighted heart, carrying the weight of the world…a miracle. A blessing, maybe?”

The bus is here and I see him waving at me before disappearing in the crowd. It’s 9:14 in the morning…

And I thank God once again for His never ending signs.



In the eyes of a lioness


You’ll see a wild fire, untamed by the endless rains. Don’t come too close, it’ll burn you alive…

You’ll see a golden light, unafraid of the tremendous darkness waiting ahead. Don’t look too closely, it’ll blind you unhesitatingly…

You’ll see a vivid passion, undisguised by the hypocrite masks all around you. Don’t dream of it, it’ll haunt your very existence, reducing it to a meaningless survival game.

So, when you’ll see me, walking towards you, with white flowers in my hair, open arms and a gentle smile, just search for the signs. Are my eyes brighter when I see your face? Am I lost for words when you say I’m your sweetheart? Am I melting in your arms when you run your fingers through my hair?…

‘Cause if I am…run away, boy, run faster than you ever ran! It may be already too late, but, anyway, save your dignity! Keep the masks on, hang on to your games, pretend to (still) follow your stupid, little rules, be that foolish hypocrite you always were. Run, run now!

‘Cause if you’re staying…well, you’d better be a lion…

White doves, sweet bunnies, playful kittens…been there, done that, played the romance and broke my heart to the core.

My answer was an awakening. The lioness in me is waiting to be more than a queen. She wants to be yours.

So if you can’t be a lion, don’t be at all…




All credits for the image go to https://ro.pinterest.com/pin/510595676476813386/

In the silence I remain…

3963136009_a3d2af8dbd_bYou know that feeling when an indescribable pain, a sadness so deep insides you becomes overwhelming? You try to cry it out, you push yourself to extremes just to move on, to go beyond it, you work on reasonable explanations. And you remain silent.

No, I am not talking about my broken romance.

Today was all about silence. My silence. The world continued to sing, to dance, to feast and to chat. And that’s okay…and no, it’s not okay. And I’m lost for words and my metaphors are missing. How would I ask them to be silent with me, just for one moment?

Because somewhere, in this world, there was a place I used to dream about. With big gardens and the sweetest fruits, with the purest color of the sea, with kind people and joyful children. “I will go there one day”.

This is one promise I’ll never fulfill.

I’ll never truly understand the invisible wires that connects me to Syria and, maybe, they’re just in my imagination. I just know how much it hurts to see the destruction. The devastation and the killings. The innocents, the dust and the blood. It tears me apart.

And I can’t do anything about it.

Yes, I signed petitions, yes, I shared terrible news and heartbreaking footages. I tried to create awareness. I did it and it was in vain. No one cared and no one noticed. No change, no solution, no end.

I’m no angel, but if I were, for just a day…

I would fly there and I would carry them with me, on my open wings to a new place. A new country, with beautiful gardens, blue skies, safe homes and loving arms. I would make them believe that every wound was just a nightmare. I would heal their hearts.

But I am only human, submitted to human laws.

This isn’t about politics, religion, not even about war itself. It’s about people like you and me, about children like yours and mine. It’s about love, a love that’s dying with every dead child. So, please, stay with me, for a moment, in this silence.

And while you’re here with me, please hold my hand. We’re not that different, you and me. We may pray in different ways, we may read different books, we may argue sometimes…but there’s only one Heaven above us. And we’ll surely get together there, one day.

So join me in my silent prayer for a miracle. For Syria.



All credits for the image go to: http://spanish.fansshare.com/gallery/photos/14329678/azem-palace-damascus-syria-wallpaper/?displaying







To take her crown…

In other circumstances I would have notice his black curled hair and the deep brown eyes, his determination and strength, his calm and still firm tone of voice, a voice made to sing rock ballads under starry skies. Not now. Now he’s just a police officer and my eyes are blurry from tears. I’m not being interrogated, they just need me to remember every little detail.

Because Ellie is missing and her final note was addressed to me.

“They said I’m sick, they said I need help. But their normality has no poetry, no castles, no dragons. princesses and heroes. Their reality has no sparks and no adventure. Why would I stay here? Maybe they’re the sick ones, maybe I just awoke to a brand new world: my own. I’m leaving, Princess. You know where to find me, but ssshhhttt…don’t tell them! I’ll be waiting.”

5 years ago

The beautiful woman in front of me seemed like descending from a royal family. Long, elegant fingers holding the cup of tea with a certain elegance. She had a light in her blue eyes, a serenity and still a sadness, the nostalgia of a lost crown…

I just had finished reading the manuscript, a story that kept building itself. A story that came to haunt her. Characters that came to life in her nightmares, talking to her, calling her, asking her to join them in the world of shadows.

Her hands were trembling and she spilled a little tea. I saw her blushing and I hear her apologizing, like she would have comitted a crime. And I was thinking that the only crime is the lack of love in her life.

“It’s because of the medicines they prescribed for my…psychosis. Because I told them that I see shadows and I talk to them. And because of this book I wrote, a cursed book…it has spells on it and…”

She broke into tears.

“What do we need to do, to break the spell, Ellie? How can I help you?”

“The book has no end…writing an end it will break the curse and end the spell. I need your help in writing the end. Please, Princess, will you help me?”

“You call me Princess, why is this?”

She smiled through tears, a childlike smile, like she was bot surprised and happy that I’m finally asking the question.

“I call you Princess because that’s what you are. In the kingdom of feelings and emotions, in your kingdom, you are the kindest princess I ever met. And in my book, you’re also a warrior.”

“What am I fighting for?”

“For your soul, of course. See, once you cross the bridge, once you meet The Shadow, your life becomes a battle after another. You lose sometimes, but you never surrender. You endanger yourself and, sometimes, your loved ones, but you’ll protect them beyond life itself. I gave you powers in these pages, beyond what you ever imagined. But wait…”

“So, am I fighting a shadow? Are we?”

“There’s a charm in being so silly, isn’t it, Princess? You love The Shadow, you love him even in his darkest moments. But the only real danger comes when he starts loving you back. You’ll forget, sometimes, what world you belong to.”

“How do I get to his world? Maybe finding him would help me setting you free and writing an ending to your book.”

“The magic mirror. This one!”

“My laptop?”

“Use it wisely, or you’ll get trapped inside it. Or better not. Forget everything I told you, okay Princess? Don’t fulfill my predictions! Swear to me you’ll never go there, you’ll never find him. Swear!”

And I swore, convinced that the medicines will help her get some rest. Convinced that I just witnessed a hallucinating story produced by her illness. I visited her, from time to time, writing my observations in “the magic mirror” meaning my laptop. I was not her therapist, not her psychiatrist, but the only friend she still had. The only family, until she was too weak to get up and tell her story.

The officer had an ironic smile.

“Well, not too weak to fool the nurses and run away. Let us know immediately if she contacts you.”

In other circumstances I would have notice the way he touched my shoulder, leading me to the door. But in this story, there are no princesses and no heroes. Just a missing queen, searching for her lost crown.



Note: In the category “Ellie, the untold story” the names, ages and locations are modified to protect the protagonists.

Note and update: Ellie was found a few hours later. She is safe.