I am Me

I am beautiful.
The way I look
And the way I act
I love the way I interact

With other people
Other minds
Because that's what they see
They see the same things as me.

And if to me I am perfect,
As I really am,
Then why wouldn't I
Be so to them?

And why shouldn't all
My wishes come true
If only I
Believe in them too

Why should I put
Everyday makeup
And not like
The way I look

If all I have to do
Is accept the simple truth
That sets me free.
I am me.

Cicmila

On the Other Side

You know that thing we all do
We obsess with things we cannot change
With things that haven't yet even come
But we know they will
Because they are inevitable

And we want to hide and not allow it to come
But we know it cannot be
So we go to the other end
And we obsess and obsess until
Our minds are tortured and we're lost
In the never-ending cycle of depression and
Fake comfort

You know what I'm talking about,
But neither of us wants to say it
You know it's that one thing
That happens all the time.

Death.

Death of hope,
Death of dreams,
Death of love,
Death of life.

But what we always forget
Is to look at the other side
And what we would see
If we just had the guts to look

Is life.

And we forget that if
Something is dying, it means that
It had lived.
And life is precious
So don't you forget it.

Don't you dare forget that
Before death,
There is always
Life.

Cicmila

Letter #4 "After all"

Dear child,
I wish I could tell you that out there is a prefect world. That everyone is always smiling and everyone is nice.That it's never too cold nor too warm. That surviving isn't hard and that you'll be ever so happy. That the law is right and everyone follows it. That you'll never be depressed and you'll never be hurt. That you'll always be loved.
But I'm sorry. This world is far from perfect. You know that when there is more souls dieing than being born. Nowadays, people don't even need anyone else to hurt themselves. And I feel sometimes, that people have forgotten how to love and to accept differences. And muscles in our face got rusty because we cannot remember the last time we honestly smiled. And that is sad.

Forgive me if I scared you. I guess... The world is not that bad after all. There's still friends who talk to each other over coffee. There is a loving couple or two holding hands, walking through the park. The sun shines every once in a while, I promise. Maybe...
Maybe it's not that bad after all.
I hope you make it.

Sincerely,

One from another time.

Cicmila

Post Scriptum

That look of his. After he told me he's sorry, but he cannot look after me. That since my mother died he's not the same. And neither am I. And that he doesn't have the money to support a child in a wheelchair. And I said "OK".
And then I started crying, because I knew I was about to lose the only family I had left. But then he started shouting. He told me I'm ungrateful and I don't understand him. He said it wouldn't be like this if I was normal.
That hurt.
And then he turned away and left. But there, just as he was about to leave my life forever, he turned around and looked at me. That look was such a controversy. Like a stream that forgot that it should end in the ocean, so it ends with a mountain.
Like a fairytale that ends badly at first, but then the true ending is revealed.
Like a tune with two endings.
That one look, so full of sudden love that he almost... forgot to say, but now remembered.
Like that one word that changes the whole sentence.
Like post scriptum.

Cicmila

Random Connections

Shards of broken glass, covered by red wine. The whole bottle was in pieces. I was still holding my glass in my hands, though there was no one to share with. No one to call a toast. The place was heavy with the memories of people who were there not so long ago. And none of my many cameras could take a picture of them now.


I close the book. I've finished it. I didn't want to read about the author. I don't care. They told me all they wanted through their characters. I lived the story they wrote, so I know them.
I didn't like the last sentence of the book. And I think those are important. It ended with her buying a pair of shoes. Green shoes. I don't like green, I'd prefer red.
But red wine comes in green bottles.


My dark green shoes are in perfect contrast with the brown leaves surrounding them. Looking at them, i wish they were a pretty picture, one people would put up as a desktop background. But I don't own a camera, I could never afford such a thing. And I don't have a photographer for a friend who would  take the picture for me. I like those shoes. They inspired my last book. Though, I was never really sure if I ended it right.

Cicmila

Normal

A normal family is one with two parents and a child or two.
Normal girls have long hair, and boys short.
Normal houses have red roofs and square windows.
Normal relationships are when a boy and a girl hold hands and kiss.
Normally you should put makeup to the point where you don't look like yourself anymore.
It's normal for girls to do everything and take off as much clothes as possible to get attention of men.
God forbid a girl speaks her mind and does anything except for looking good.
It's normal to hate books and learning.
It's normal to praise money above everything else.

That's what THEY say.

Well I say no.
I say money is dirty and I don't want it.
I'm as glad as I can be to have the opportunity to read and to learn.
I wish women were equal with men. And that we would all realize that they are.
It's normal to accept yourself as you are.
It doesn't matter if those in love are the same gender. Nor do they live next door or a thousand miles away.
Things and people should have the chance to look and feel like they want, without being judged.
A family are the people closest to you.

That's what I say.
And if you think differentlly
Then to you,

I don't want to be normal.

Cicmila

Silent Moments

My mouth is full of words. They are threatening to come out. They demand it. But I keep them silent. I say: "You'll have your chance. But for now, stay silent." 
While I sit next to you on the bridge, I think about all the things I want to say. My mind wants to explode, but I don't let it. I stay silent, yet again. I know I will never have another chance to say it, but I do nothing. The moment goes by in silence. You walk away.

The last time I saw her, I wanted to say so much. With all my heart, I was ready to do it, no matter the consequences, but I didn't say anything. I just laid my hand on her shoulder and watched the life slowly drain from her. I wanted to say so much. But words were nowhere to be found. The moment went in silence. She is gone.

I sit in the corner of my room, curled up. You come to me. I don't want to say anything, but I expect you to say a lot. In my mind are words, but not mine. They're yours. They're the things I want you to say. In my head I already hear you saying them, but your voice is not getting to me. Because you're not speaking. You sit next to me and wait. Wait for the moment to pass in silence. I get up and walk away.

It's my last chance to say what I want. Never again will I be able to speak. But the words that came and went in all the right and wrong moments have now abandoned me. Will I really spend my last moments in silence? I shed a tear. I've missed so many chances, I just didn't think my last chance would come so soon. I miss saying things. And my moments passed in silence.

Moments don't come twice. Don't let yours pass in silence.

Cicmila

What Makes Me

I recently read a story about how what we read becomes a part of us, and it got me thinking:
That would so perfectly explain the fact that people who read more are generally better people.

But, most of all, it got me thinking about myself and the books I've read. Did I get my courage from myself, or from Lady Katsa(Graceling, Kristin Cashore). Is my strength really mine, or is it Aragorn's(The Lord of the Rings, J. R. R. Tolkien)?
Am I determined because of Alice(The Solitude of Prime Numbers, Paolo Giordano). And does my curiosity come from the Little Red Riding Hood?
And I wonder: Is my crazy side really from my mom's side of the family, or is it all from spending too many afternoons with the Mad Hatter(Alice in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll)
Am I motivated because of my dreams, or because of the rhymes I see every night before I close my eyes(Svetli grobovi, J. J. Zmaj).
Am I smart like Sherlock(Sherlock Holmes, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle) and funny like the Weasley twins(Harry Potter, J. K. Rowling)?
Am I lost like Lucas(Lucas, Kevin Brooks)?
Will I find my way like Dorothy(The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, L. Frank Baum) did?

I hope so.

Cicmila

The Reflection

You see yourself in the mirror every day

But what you see is not true

And no matter how much you want your eyes to be brown

They're not. They're blue.

And cuts don't stop bleeding

Just because you want them to

They heal with time

Just like your thoughts do

And why are we all taught as kids

That money is worthless 

And then are encouraged

To make lemonade stands and deliver daily press

And how come they tell us

That books are suppose to be comprehended in a certain way

If that's not how I understand it,

And those are not the things I heard the writer say

How come that on a freezing December night

The only bus that is not going to come on time

Is exactly the one we are waiting for?

It should be called a crime...

Or some people call it karma

They say that what you do always comes back

But you still do stupid things

And all you think about is do the punishments stack.

Cicmila

Words

I can't help but wonder why some words are more complicated than others. Or how one word can change the other. A ring is just a ring until you propose with it. Then it becomes a lot more. It becomes a symbol.
Still, you can't compare a ring to a banana. And say that you're all out of bananas and nobody will care.
But try saying that to a monkey...

So words are different to everybody. For me, the word "raven" brings tears to my eyes because one of my favorite childhood pets was a raven. But to someone else, it's just a black bird.
And I have a picture above my mirror that would take me about a 1000 words to describe, but to someone else, it's jut a girl in a white dress.

And you might say fairies are just for fairy tales, but I see them every night in my dreams. So for me they are real.
...Same goes for dragons.

And people say there's no word more complicated than "love", but I'll give you one:

"Word".

Cicmila

Forgotten

I'm standing on a bridge, looking at the water. I'm holding a chain with a ring on it. It's swinging so close to the water, so close to it's story's end.
It makes me think about every memory that get lost. Every important message someone forgot. Everything just gone...
Like the water under the bridge.
It makes me think of fallen soldiers who died in meaningless war and battles. It makes me think of loving grandparents forgotten in institutions. Of artists that never found their way and that are now swimming in small circles, like fish in a bowl.  Of forgotten toys left to collect dust in an attic, while they were once the only thing that protected you from the monsters under your bed.
Makes me think of dry rose petals, ripped bookpages and forgotten languages.
Makes me think of stories never told, lost in thoughts. Of bartenders, now old, who once dreamed about becoming spiritual leaders.
It makes me thinking of melodies that pop in our head, but disappear before we get the chance to remember them.

I put the chain with the ring back safely around my neck.
Maybe I want to hold on to this memory for just a while longer.

Cicmila

What would you miss if you...?

Think of the things you would miss the most if you were blind.

 - For me, it would be raindrops on my window. And a smile on people's faces. Also, Id' miss the autumn leaves. And the spring flowers.

And if you were deaf?

 - Music. The sweet sound of one note sliding into the other. And... the sound of someone saying they miss me. And only for a second, I'd miss hearing the wind in the trees.

If you couldn't speak, what would you miss saying?

 - "Sorry". And I'd miss the choice to say "I love you", and "I wish things were different". 

If you could not smell?

 - My dad's chocolate bread when it's just taken out of the oven. And the morning after a rainy night. And orange. I'd miss the smell of orange...

If you could not touch? What would you miss?

 - I'd miss... touching my hair. And silk. And I'd miss the tree bark. The way it lives under my touch.

And if you died this very instant, what would you wish you've lived?

 - I'd wish I had the chance to say my last words to the world. And I'd want to see one person. ...Or two. And I would wish I was more brave. That I had lived without the fear that stopped me from doing things I want my whole life. Yeah... And I would have loved to see the world, not being afraid of how people see me. 

 How do you feel now?

 - Sad. Because I still don't have the courage to do what I want. But I feel I'm a bit closer. I think I'll get there.

Enjoy life.

Cicmila

Lust - Confession #1

I confess.
Lust.

I grew up in a small city. I am a catholic. I was a good daughter. I didn't have any siblings, because my mother died when she gave me life. I like looking at her picture. I look a lot like her. My father is a good man. A farmer. Just, loyal... He's a good man.

I went to a small school with a class of twelve.I had the best grades. I studied for hours every day while my friends were out partying. I was the best of the best, and my dream was to go to a big city to study.

My school gave out one scholarship every year to the best student. That was my ticket out. So on our graduation day, I sat confident that I had achieved my goal. Then, the principal called out the name of the scholarship award winner.

The mayor's daughter.

She went off to the big city, finished the prestige college, and I stayed here, and became a teacher, convincing myself that that is what my mother would want me to do. My dad passed away, proud of me so much that he would raise to the sky every time he would see me.

The mayor's daughter lived my dream in the big city, working on top of a skyscraper. Once, I went to the big city. I was walking past a restaurant when I saw her. She was everything I dreamed of being.
That was MY dream she was living!
MY life!

I WANT IT BACK!

...so I took it.

Unlike You

There's an ache in the back of my head

But I don't mind

I didn't go out of line

It reminds me that I am not dead

Unlike you.

I see you every day, walking around

But your eyes are empty

It's like your soul

Is nowhere to be found.

You don't want to listen

The only words you really know

Are the ones that are written

But those aren't words you hear, they're letters

And letters can't hurt

Unlike words that beat you until you can't breathe

And leave you lying in the dirt

You can't fight back, they disappear

It's like they run away

They don't want to face you

They can't stand your fear

And you are afraid

If you're not you're a fool

And I know you're not, because once

...You had a soul.

And I can't promise tomorrow will be better

But I can hope

And as long as there's mystery in the air

And a letter to tear,

While there's faith to be burned

And stories to be told

I will fight for that tomorrow, and the day after

I will fight for you

Because there's an ache in the back of my head.

And I know... I am not dead.

Nonself

Nonself Definition: That which is not oneself.

But who exactly am I? All my life I've been shaped by other people's actions and words, that I don't think I know who I am.
It's sad, for me. I'm becoming just another one shaped by society.

Well I say NO.
I will not stand the hypocritical image of the person I have to be in order to be accepted in society. I will not break under their pressure. I will not be shaped and molded like everyone else.

You cannot make another one out of me. I have no mold. I am unique and special and everyone else is different than me.
They will try to tame me, to take me away from my being. But I will stand firm. I will stand and serve as an example for everyone else, no matter how strong or weak.

I refuse to become anything but what I am. I will not let you or anyone else tell me what I need to be, how to act or what to look like.

I will not become nonself. Because I can.

Cicmila

Definitions.

Define.


Love - a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.
         - a person toward whom love is felt; beloved person; sweetheart.

Memory - a mental impression retained; a recollection.

Faith - confidence or trust in a person or thing.
        - belief that is not based on proof.
        - belief in anything, as a code of ethics, standards of merit, etc.

Wish - to want; desire; long for
         - to entertain wishes

Story - a fictitious tale, shorter and less elaborate than a novel.

Elephant - either of two large, five-toed pachyderms of the family Elephantidae,characterized by a long, prehensile trunk formed of the nose and upper lip.

Home - a house, apartment, or other shelter that is the usual residence of a person,family, or household.
          - the place in which one's domestic affections are centered.

Definition - the act of making definite, distinct, or clear; a defining:
               - the condition of being definite, distinct, or clearly outlined

Cicmila

Letter #3 "The one who waited"

Hello, old friend!

Or have you forgotten all about me? Because... I haven't forgotten about you. I think I will begin this letter thinking about the past. I loved you, Wilbur. You helped me out through school. You were kind to me when everyone else would call me names. Even though you said that we could never be friends in front of others because of my colored skin, you would still take me to the park every day after school were we would be alone for hours, just talking. Oh the dreams we shared!

And, there was that one night, I do think I remember it well. It was the last day of our high school. You were to go off to the world, to college, and I was to go and help my parents at the farm. You were as sad as I was, but it didn't stop you from promising that in 50 years you will show up at the same train station where I watched you disappear that day. You said "I'll come back, my dear. You have to wait for me there! And then I'll take you away with me!" I told only one person you said that. My mother. Though, she passed away quite some time ago, I still remember her words, she told me you were lying. And that you only said 50 years because you were hoping I'd forget about it.

But, old friend, I remember you. And your promise. And I stood on that station from dusk till dawn and all the way to the night again. I think a thousand trains passed, but non of them was yours. I waited. I kept my part of the promise. I waited. But you never showed up.

Why did you lie to me Wilbur? Why couldn't you keep your promise? I miss you so much. Every day, I miss you more and more, and by this time it started to hurt. And now my heart is broken. Why did you have to make me feel this way? Why? Why? Why?!

Still, old friend, I wish you all the best, even tough you don't know who this is.

The one who waited for you

Letter #2 "Wake up call"

Hey you!

Yeah, you.You listen to me, and you listen real good. I'm fed up with all the crappy lies, the pain, the sheer sorrow of trying.
It stops now. I don't care if the weather says differently, if I don't want it to rain, then dammit, my sun is going to shine! And if you think your world is collapsing, think again, because it could be oh so much worse than you think!
You hate yourself? Great job, but guess what, you're probably the only one! Other people care about you! Oh, you did something to make them mad? Then get of that lazy ass and start making things right!

I don't care do you believe in God or not, he ain't helping you clean up your own mess! You don't have the strength? Find it! The only person responsible for you is you! You had bad luck in your life? No shit! We all have ups and downs, it's the way you deal with them that counts!

You dream of a better life? Stop dreaming! Go do it! It won't grow legs and come itself! Wake up call!
You're waiting for a sign? Here's a sign for you:

Happy? Enough with the excuses, and enough with giving up! Even trying counts!
This is not a mellowy, cutesy letter. This is a rude wake up call.
So wake up.

Cicmila

Letter #1 "Memories"

My most perfect,

I remember the day I met you, I remember the wish you made while we were looking at the stars together, when we didn't even know each others names. But it didn't matter. It never mattered. Words were not worthy. They simplified a thousand times that what we wanted to say.

I remember your hair was messed up with some leaves and grass. You looked so beautiful. The city beneath us was wrapped in mist, and it was like we were above the skies, in heaven or some place similar. I know you never liked the idea of heaven. You said it makes people less interested to find peace in this world.

But the scene is what matters. Two of us, two complete strangers, both feeling a soul mate nearby. We sat for hours. You were looking at the stars, and I was looking at you. That night, you were missing someone. Not only could I see it in your eyes, but you told me something I will never forget for as long as I live.

"You know why I love looking up? It's because when I miss someone, no matter how far they are, we are both looking at the same sky. And I know that if he looks up right now, he will see the same thing I see. So after all, we're not all that far away."

Your big round eyes then fell on me. Oh, dearest, every time you would look at me it is as if you see me the first time, but that night... I remember falling. I was falling for so long, but I wasn't afraid because I knew you would be there to catch me. I fell. I fell in love. I fell for you.
You had such a beautiful smile, I wish I could see it again, but...

I know you can't remember what happened an hour ago, so I won't ask you to remember something fifty years ago. My love, all I want you to do is keep this letter. Because I won't be here anymore to tell you how much I love you. I won't be able to take you to the garden every night to watch the stars with you and enjoy your perfect view of the world through your innocent, child-like eyes.

I must go now. You will be fine, and we will meet again. We will be young again, in a special place, just you and me, looking at the stars. Keep dreaming love, and whenever you miss me, just remember, we're both looking at the same sky.

Forever yours,

The one never completely worthy

 - Madame, you have a letter.

 - Oh? Who's it from?

 - It's from your husband.

 - Really? I didn't know I have a husband. What's he like?

 - I am afraid... He's no longer with us. But, he asked me to take you outside, to see the stars.

 - Stars, you say? I like stars. I remember once, when I was young, I watched stars with a beautiful man. I don't remember his name, though... Did you know, child, that when you miss someone, you need only to look at the sky? It is because......

Cicmila

Will you?

Someone...

Anyone...?

Will you hold my hand when I need guidance?

Will you keep me warm when I shake with winter. Will you give me a present just for me? Will you remember my name forever?

Will you never cease to tell me how beautiful I am? Will you stay awake with me when I can't sleep? Will you tell me a story and play me a song when I am bored?

Will you do whatever it takes to make me smile? Will you tell me the truth, even when you think I don't want to hear it? Will you never let me think bad of myself?

Will you be there for me?

Will you see a flower and think of me?

Will you keep the memory of me when I'm not there anymore?

Will you wipe my tears away? Will you call my name in the dense mist? Will you carry me when I can't stand? Will you speak for me when I lose my voice? Will you force me to look when I lose the will?

Will you never leave me, even if I ask it of you?

When I scream at you, tell you I hate you, push you away... Will you come back?

Someone... Anyone...

Will you give me all, no matter the price?

Because it is when you will, that I will never ask you to. And it is only when I know you will never ask all of me, that I will give you exactly that.

Will you?

Cicmila

One of Those Nights

This is just one of those nights.
I know it's gonna be a hard one. I just want to go to sleep and not wake up until tomorrow. I want to go to sleep and not wake up until every last child has stopped crying. Until there's not a man in the world thirsty. Until there is not one person in pain and misery.
I want to go to sleep and not wake up until this world is perfect. Not wake up until every broken heart is mended and every soul finds its' way through the world and through life.
But...
That would be a night that would never come to an end.
How can I go to sleep when I know there is a child crying, a man thirsty and people in pain? How can I sleep while this world remains so imperfect, while there are hearts broken and souls lost?
What is the point in sleeping then? When I know I'll wake up to the same world I left behind the previous day?

But I won't give up. I'll wake up tomorrow and help mend a broken heart. I will put a smile on someone's face. I will start the day knowing that I can make a difference. Knowing I MUST make a difference.

So I can lie in bed tonight sure that tomorrow will be a better day than today. Knowing tomorrow the world will be a bit more perfect. Knowing that someone, somewhere, is doing the same thing I am. Knowing someone out there is fighting to see the same day I want to see.

"We can't help everyone, but anyone can help someone."

Cicmila

The Perfect Look

This dress. It's perfect. I know it is, they said so in a fashion magazine last week. It's black, small.
My legs are showing. And they're not perfect. I like them, but others don't, so a pair of tight stockings should cover them up good enough.
My feet are too small, not proportional. I took shoes a few sizes bigger and then filled the top with cotton wool. I hate heels, but they're recommended with my perfect dress.
I saw a makeup look in a magazine too. I bought all the makeup. It's a lot. I don't recognize myself in the mirror. My hair is curly. I like my curls. Now they're gone. It's all straight. It's better like this.
I have big sparkly earrings that pull my ears because they are too heavy. I hide the cuts on my arms with a pair of gloves. The sparkly bracelet is poking my arm, but it looks nice.
I stand in front of the mirror. My neck is all plain except for a medallion. It's my mothers. I took it off. It doesn't go with the dress. I miss knowing my mother. I tie a little black silk scarf around my neck.
I carry a little clutch. It's empty, I don't need it. But everyone carries it, so I have to have one myself.
The bell. He's here. I open the door and greet him with a light kiss on the cheek. I put on a smile and close the door.
"You are beautiful.", he says.
Of course I am...
Right.
Me...

Cicmila

Imagine Freedom

Look through the nearest window. What do you see?
You see a place where you could be. Throw your arms in the air.
Shout.
Shout louder.
Shout as loud as you can, just because you're free and you can.
You're more free than a bird in a cage, than a child in a crib, than a person caring about what others think. You're more free than a flower in a vase, than a hair tide in a tail than a woman in high heels.
You're as free as you think, as beautiful as the mirror tells you, only you and no one else.
Just because you're behind locked doors, in a wheelchair, with no sight, does not mean you're not free! As long as you are not close-minded, and if you can IMAGINE it, than you can be free.

Imagine. There is not a thing in this world more powerful than our imagination. Why? Because it is unlimited. It is untamed. It is beautiful and endless.

Whatever we want, whatever we wish, we can have. Our imagination is what gets us going, what keeps us going. It is our greatest weapon and most powerful shield.

Our imagination is the way we see ourselves, and if we want others to see us in the same light, we have to let our imagination out and let it be seen by others.

Use your imagination in any way you want, because you CAN and because you SHOULD. It's your gift and nobody else's and you mustn't waste it.
Be creative.
Be free.
It's your time to shine.

Cicmila

Bloglovin

Follow me on bloglovin! http://www.bloglovin.com/blog/7000547 :)
Get the latest updates, news and more!


<a href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blog/7000547/?claim=6zd65jyj6w7">Follow my blog with Bloglovin</a>

Cicmila

I dream.

I dream.
Bigger than me. Bigger than a house. Bigger than an elephant. Bigger than the moon. Bigger than a music note, but smaller than the song itself, for I don't know the meaning it has for others. Bigger than war and bigger than the world, but I could not possibly dream bigger than a child seeing the first snow. Bigger than expectations but smaller than fears. Smaller than the universe, and smaller than you. Bigger than an elephant.
I dream.

I wish.
I wish for music. I wish for happiness. I wish for history. I wish for love. I wish for no hunger nor war. I wish for every child to have a smile on their face and loved ones to hug. I wish for magic. I wish for modesty. I wish for health. I wish for dreams. I wish for more wishes. I wish for change. I wish for knowledge. I wish for you. I wish for art. I wish for blue and red. I wish for love.
I wish.

I see.
I see friendship. I see birds and trees. I see bicycles. I see letters. I see pictures. I see black and I see white. I see people trying to find a way forward, when they'd already passed the turn. I see dreams and wishes. I see laughter. I see night. I see day. I see beauty. I see ambition. I see books. I see us. I see stars and I see rain. I see the sea and I see the ice. I see letters.
I see.

I love.
I love mystery. I love fame. I love stories. I love mornings. I love you. I love people. I love freedom. I love power to help. I love minds. I love ideas. I love piglets. I love music. I love chocolate. I love smiles. I love dreams. I love wishes. I love the sights. I love caring. I love worry. I love time and I love space. I love colors and I love shapes. I love reasons. I love the truth. I love working. I love sleeping. I love you.
I love.

Cicmila

Today is a Beautiful Day

Today is a beautiful day! Can't you see it? Can't you hear it? Can't you feel it?

Can't you see the sun shining and the grass glittering in its rays? The people smiling and the birds flying? The animals little and big, paintings being painted, secrets being explored?
Can't you see it?

Can't you hear the children's laughter and the bird's song? Stories being told and lullabies being sung? The silent words, whispers, crickets filling out silence, footsteps on a bridge, bees going from one flower to the next?
Can't you hear it?

Can't you feel the warmth in the air, not from the sun but from the people themselves? The trust being born, the burning love, niceness to strangers, beauty from within? Can't you feel happiness?
Can't you feel it?

Today is a beautiful day.
See it.
Hear it.
Feel it.
Today is a beautiful day.
Live it.

Cicmila

Perfect

Inside of me, lies a demon.

It's ugly and small, and it feeds on my fears and doubts. I hate it, and it loves it, because my hate makes him even bigger.
If it's one of those days when it's cold outside, and I just don't feel like even getting out of bed, those are the days it loves the most.
It speaks. It tells me I'm not good enough, doesn't let me get to my reasons to live.
But it's not all that bad. I hate it so much I often do things I know it'll dislike: I take care of myself, I love myself, I help out others. That's my little way of rebellion. That's how, in a way, the demon helps me. It makes me push myself more and strive for perfection. It only tells the truth, but if I'm perfect, there's nothing it can say.
...Right?
That's what I think, so I do my best to live my life the way I find perfect. But, the more things I change to perfect, the more new things it finds. It's a fight for survival, I guess. Only one of us can win, and it's a never-ending battle.
Today, I've lost the fight.
I know because I'm alone, in a dark corner of the room, crying.
Today, it got me, and now my tears are like an elixir to it. I hate it.
And that makes it stronger.
Today I've lost the fight.
But tomorrow is another day.
Another fight.
Tomorrow, I can win.
Tomorrow, I can be...

...Perfect.

Cicmila

Today Is a Good Day

Today is a good day.
Often we think something has to go from bad to good for a day to be a good day, but you know what? It doesn't work that way!
Why can't it be enough to just see the sun and feel happy? Even if nothing special happened to you today, it did to someone else, and there's your reason to be happy. Be glad for someone else!
Close your eyes and feel the sun's heat on your skin after a long winter.
Hear a child's laugh, and smile.
Set yourself a small goal and accomplish it, then be proud of yourself.
Help out a stranger.
Help out a friend.
Exchange a smile, or at least try to. Maybe the other person won't smile back, but be sure they will remember your smile.
Call a friend you haven't seen in a long time. Just say hi. Wish them a happy day.
Run across a park and do a cartwheel or two. Feel free, because you are free.
Show love. Just do it.
Feel good about yourself. You're the one and only you and nobody can be as good of a you as you are.
Do something fun.
Be positive. Negativity won't do you any good. Be positive!
Take a marker and draw on your wall. Or write. Write out something positive to see every morning.
Drink coffee and/or eat chocolate. No need for explanation.
Don't worry. Will the thing you're worried about be important in two weeks? How about two years? See? No need for worry.
Hold a hand.
Apologize.
Make something and give it away to someone.
Be happy.

Do any of those thing today,
and make today a good day.
It's as simple as that.
Good luck! :)

Cicmila

The Controversial Keys, part 3

Make sure you check out parts 1 and 2!(http://storytimewithcicmila.blogspot.com/2013/02/the-controversial-keys-part-1.html http://storytimewithcicmila.blogspot.com/2013/02/the-controversial-keys-part-2.html)

...
Alex was a quiet boy in my class. He was a violinist, and a very good one, but he didn't talk a lot. One day we had an assignment to pair up and compose a two minute piece. Since I was still a pretty lone girl, everybody had already paired up, except for Alex.
We stayed a few times after class and worked in a separate classroom, getting our piece done. It was a nice blend of soothing piano background and a thrilling violin solo. We both liked it, and it fitted our personalities. How ever quiet Alex may have seemed, he was very enthusiastic and passionate about his music.
When the piece was finished, we had practice less frequent. The presentation was due two weeks from now, so we met every third day to play it once or twice. In class, he would smile at me when I would catch his eye, but aside from that we didn't communicate a lot. Still, that was enough for me.

So the day has arrived of our presentation and the whole amphitheater was filled with students of all classes and a few professors as well.We did not dream that it would get that big, thinking it is a simple closed project. I was so nervous I threw up at one point, but Alex helped me to keep my cool.

The piano was there, near the center of the stage, showered by bright yellow light. It was calling me, this was my moment to shine. I, most of all, didn't want to fail Alex.
So, there it came, my first public performance.

Cicmila

The Burden

"Why are you so hunched? Why can't you stand up straight, sir?"
"Oh, it's these damn bags. They are so heavy, I can barely lift them..."
"But.. why don't you empty them? Or ask someone to help you?"
"Because, young lad, I would then have to share what lies within. And that... is something I cannot do."
"Please sir, it bothers me to see you under their weight. Let me help you."
The man thought about it for a minute or so.
"I suppose it might be worth a try. But, if you walk away in the middle of the story, my bags will only get heavier."
"Let's sit, sir. Then you can tell me the story."
The man sat down, still with bags in his hands. The boy sat next to him. He had a small bag next to him, barely noticeable.
"At first, my bag was light and did not bother me at all. With every small lie, it would get a bit heavier, but I did not mind. Then... well, I could not imagine how heavy a broken heart would be. I carried it around, never trying to mend it, bending under it's weight. From that, came rage. Fury was not that heavy, until it piled on in stacks, up to the point when I could not get rid of it. Some years later, I came across love. That was the thing that turned it all around. I felt like I could fly, no worries no cares. But lust made me fall and crash badly. After that, everything came back. The mended heart was broken again, and another one I've broken was added. I was angry at myself, and it made it all even heavier. I though one day I could fix it, but then she passed away, and I knew I will never be able to say "Sorry". That, my friend, is why I am so hunched. That is what is in my bags I cannot lift."
The young man sat in silence. He was thinking about it all. Does a man who has done so much wrong to have bags that heavy deserve to get help? Just on the though of it, his own bags got filled with guilt and sadness.
 "Sir... Your story is sad and filled with bad things, but I will have you know... that what ever you did you have redeemed yourself by living with the burden all your life. Now, you shouldn't suffer any more."
And so, standing tall and proud, the boy took one of the bags from the old man's hand and put it over his back. Just at that moment, the bag started to empty. It soon became so light that the wind that came blew it away, and so the boy and the man sat down, pleased and relieved.

The burden of our past should not be ours alone to carry.
Sharing it could be a way to save ourselves.
We're not alone.

Cicmila

The Storm

"There's a storm coming." said the old man, holding firm to his tall staff. He was looking up to the skies, though he could not see.
"How do you know this?" asked the boy standing next to him. He admired his grandfather, so old and wise.
"Look around you, son. I needn't see to know that the storm is on it's way, because this is not a storm of wind and rain. This storm is much worse... It will come when we least want it, and it will never leave. It is a storm that affects not land and crops, but us. It is a wind of hate and selfishness. A rain of insults and curses. It will wash away all happiness and love, leaving only sorrow and bitterness. No umbrella can save you from the rain, not is there a boat strong enough to survive he flood. All that was once pretty, now will become ugly. The good will turn to bad and the once honorable men and women will turn to thieves and liars. Mothers will not care for their children, nor will brothers for their sisters. It will spread so fast, like a virus, and will infect everyone. No one is immune to it, nor is there a cure once it has spread. It will be a sad day when that storm comes. I fear that day."

"But... Why don't we do anything about it?" the boy asked "Why do we just sit and wait for the storm? Can't we stop it?!"

"Tell me, boy... do you feel love? Are you happy?"

"Yes, I am happy. I love nature and music, I love how the sky turns pink at sundown, and how the snow sparkles in winter. But... I am afraid to show that. Everyone around me is so sad and miserable, so bitter that I fear any thing I do would just be rejected. It's so much easier to pretend I am sad as well, to blend in..."

"There, my boy, is the problem. Inside of you is a sun so bright, wishing to be set free, but you conceal it. Do you think you are the only one that feels this way? And other people, with suns as bright as yours, hide it inside, not showing it out of fear of rejection. What would you do if you saw someone happy? Would it inspire you to be happy yourself?"

"I.... I think it would."

"Then be that first one! Don't let the storm come! I am old and fading way, but you can still stop the storm! Let your sun shine through and others will show their own happiness! Be who you really are and how you feel. Do not let others dictate the way you will feel! Only once the sun in every person alive is shining out, will the storm leave forever. Now go, my boy. Go, and shine."

"I will, grandfather! I love you!"

The boy ran away, with a smile so bright. The old man sat on a stone nearby. He looked to the sky, though he could not see, and quietly whispered:

"Go, my boy, and shine. I made you see the storm, now I'll be watching you stopping it...
...from the stars above."

Don't let the storm come.

Cicmila

The Apple

A small boy once came, soft skin soaked with tears, and sat in the middle of a wide, green field. His hands were firmly gripped around a seed. Not small, not big. Just a simple seed. He didn't know why he took it, he just did.

But, it was just a worthless seed, not capable in any way to return what was stolen from him. His older sister, dead. Just because she took an apple to give to him. His face was once again washed with a new wave of tears. His sister was all he had. Now he's all alone.

He took the seed he was holding and threw it as far away from him as he could. It landed not far from him. He was a small, weak boy. Traumatized, he walked away, not knowing where to go. He walked a long way, until his feet were sore and his body too tired to continue. He fell down and right asleep.

He was waken by a soft touch on the cheek. He jumped up, startled. Before him, a girl even smaller than him, dressed in rags, watching him with eyes as big as the moon. There was something familiar in her eyes. She looked so scared of him and the world, but there was something more.

He reached his hand out to her. She accepted it and came a bit closer than him. "Please", she whispered, "take care of me. And I will care for you."
And there it was, the thing he was missing, now so obvious in front of his eyes: The care and love his sister has always been showing to him, now embedded in this girl. The same love and care his sister died for. And in that moment he knew that whatever his life would lead to, he will take care of this little girl.

And so he grew stronger and stronger every day, working to get food for him and his new sister. The years flew by, and he took the lead in their lives.
One day, his sister hasn't eaten for days, so he stole for her...

An apple.

A small girl came, soft skin soaked with tears, and sat in the middle of a wide, green field. All was flat, except for a small, young tree, in the middle of it all. She came to he tree and lean on it. It was placed there so randomly, like it was just thrown away and landed there, and she could tell by the bark what tree it was...

An apple tree.

Cicmila

Should I do this?

Should I do this?
How many times did you feel like you're missing out? How many times were you mad at yourself for not doing something, just because you were scared? You may say, "I understand. I'd be afraid too". But, still, you wish the past you would have done something.

You put aside the bad things and the good things. It doesn't work. You try making out every possible scenario, but still  you know deep down that you're putting out more positive outcomes than negative, in an attempt to convince yourself. You wish there was someone to tell you it's ok, that you should do it. Your mind tells you not to do it, that you will only get hurt but how can we deny what the heart wants?

In most cases, you'll end up going half way. You'll get closer to what you want, but you can't go all the way through. Why do we do this? In 20 years, we'll more regret the things we haven't done than the ones we have. Why are we so scared? Be honest to yourself and picture the worst possible scenario. Now do the same, but this time picture the best rational scenario.

Is is worth it? Is it worth risking the worst one for the chance for the best one? What's your answer?
The same answer should go to the question: "Should I do this?"

Cicmila

The Second Chance

I was a sad person. Most of all, I wanted to die.
I remember going on the bus. I sat on a seat next to a window, and I soon fell asleep.
The next thing I remember, there was this excruciating pain, I think a thousand pieces of glass were stabbing me form all sides.
Then there was just nothing. There was me, without any pain. But there was nothing more. I was dead.
But...
No! How? There is so much I didn't do!
I never told that special one how I feel, even if there was never a "right time".
I didn't say I'm sorry to the one I hurt.
I've never heard my favorite band  perform.
I didn't tell all my friends how much they really mean to me, I just pretended I didn't care, when, actually, I don't know how I would manage without them.
I didn't find out all the things I wanted to learn, nor did I master all the skills I wished for.
I didn't finish the drawing that has been laying under my bed for weeks.
I didn't help out the ones most dear to me.
I didn't get rid of my fears and doubts.
I didn't repay the ones I owe, nor did I thank the ones who wanted nothing for the help they gave.
I have so much thoughts I want to share with the world! Please let me go back!
I wish to go...

 - Go where?

Go LIVE. All I ask, is for another chance to live.

Cicmila

Forgive or forget?

The forever question: To forgive, or to forget?
When bad things happen, when we get hurt, when we are cold and we cry, when we fail, when we just can't get up...
When bad things happen, we ask ourselves a question: Should we forgive? Or forget?
To FORGET means to choose not to learn form our mistakes, not to look facts in the eye and to ignore what your mind tells you. It is to bury the truth under a mask, a pile of lies, so that when you talk of it, you can speak with ease, but still hurt inside, forever. To forget is to protect others, but damage yourself.

To FORGIVE means to face the truth, to get hurt, to learn from it, to respectfully disagree, to say what you mean and to let go. To forgive is to clear your past so that you may look back on it with pride. To forgive is to do right by yourself and by others, going forward with a clear continence.

Every moment of our lives we make the choice. The only difference in that choice is whether or not we will be free in our future, or will we carry the burden of an unclear ending.

Make the right choice by mind, and by heart.
Close your eyes, and say silently: I forgive.

Cicmila

The Controversial Keys, part 2

Part 1(read, if you haven't, because the story continues): http://storytimewithcicmila.blogspot.com/2013/02/the-controversial-keys-part-1.html

...

I wasn't allowed to touch the piano until I was in highschool, and even then it was not a simple procedure. Well, that was my first encounter with the piano that I wasn't afraid to play the notes. My music teacher must have noticed my love for music, because she would always stay a bit longer after class to teach me.

It wasn't much, and in the period of four years I did not learn more than a few songs, but every time I would play them, something new would wake inside of me.

So the moment has come for me to choose where I wish to continue my studies. I, of course, knew what I wanted, but I knew uncle would never approve. I've already made peace with the fact that my parents won't be coming back from the trip, so I didn't want uncle to be against me, not in any way.

Thinking back on it, at that point my uncle's opinion mattered more than anything to me. He's the one who had always taken care of me, the one I had grown up with.

I didn't have many friends growing up, I was more of a lone wolf, always lost in my thoughts, thinking of what kind of adventures my parents were going thorough. They were in the jungle, climbing mountaintops or swimming though the Nile.

I apologize, I've wandered off...

Even if I didn't have any friends, I was never lonely. I didn't miss friends, but I didn't push them away if they would approach me.

So, friends weren't tying me to any place, and I was of legal age to take care of myself, so the idea I got one day after school seemed as good as it gets.

I was to move back to my hometown and since the apartment I once lived in was long sold, I would try to get a scholarship in a music academy, to live and learn there.

It happened just the way I imagined it, but it wasn't until years later that I found out that my music teacher who had written the letter of recommendation was a former headmaster of the academy. So,I guess I didn't know that well back then about music.

Nevertheless, I was there for two years before I realized how good I actually am. That was when I was moved to a class that was a whole year ahead. That's when I met him.

Cicmila

The Controversial Keys, part 1

I remember being just a little girl when I first laid hands on the keys. It was in a museum of some sort, I remember it got my mum and dad in a lot of trouble. The surface was so smooth, they were calling me to press them. But I did not dare.

I think it was not by chance that my parents went away on the trip just the next day. I was left with my uncle who lived in a faraway city. He had a big house, so big I thought no matter how long I walk I will never see all of it. But, that was just because I was small.

Few months after that, I was on my way to explore the third floor. Being small, my head was always facing up, so the moment I got up there I saw the strangest thing: a door on the ceiling.
Living in a crowded building, I've never had an attic, so this was completely new to me.

To fast forward, I had to wait a couple of days to see my uncle going up there, and then another few to get the opportunity to go up there myself. It was dark, and I was a bit scared, but I took a flashlight with me, and the fear was overcome my amazement.

Boxes and bags, closets, tables, drawers, dolls, lamps, old bicycles, clothes, albums, a sailor rope and s much more, just from one look. A window thorough witch I could not see the street, but the sky draw my attention. I ran towards it and looked up, although it was too dark to see anything.

In the corner, a big object covered with a dark cloth. I approached it and grabbed one end, pulling it aside. It fell right off, revealing a sight I didn't think I'll ever see again.
The lid was lifted and the black and white keys were there, naked to my eye. I was hovering above them, so eager to touch.

Oh, the sound it made...

Cicmila

Dreams, fear, getting up...

Do you ever feel like no matter what you do, you can't win? You do your best, but even so you fail?

Sometimes situations like that make you feel worthless and you want to quit. Well...

If a soldier would give up every time he lost one of his own, then the battle would be lost.

If a mother of three would give up after loosing one of her children, what would happen to the others?

Imagine never investigating anything, just because last time you found something you'd rather not see.

Think of trying to grab a man's hand, but he still slips and falls, would you never reach out to help anyone again?

Falling off a bike while learning, then never getting back on it, because of fear.

Quit playing, just because you lost one game.

Stop dancing, because you missed a single step.

Don't give up. 100% people who never tried, didn't succeed. Have courage, have hope. Try again and be grateful for every time you fall, because you just got another chance to get up.

Go back in to the fight, because there are those who need you. You're a part of a team, how ever small or big, and make sure you always do your best, because there's no point in living if you're just sliding through life on the easy side. Don't be afraid of going in two vs. one, because someone will always show up to back you up. Trust people you're with. They are there for you.

You CAN reach your goals, just try hard enough. Don't let them be forgotten in the sky, take them into your own hands.

Don't give up.

Cicmila

Grey

It's dark and grey. The whole world, washed out of color. The people, washed out of emotions.

A grey girl with a grey scarf walks past a grey boy, with a grey cap.

A man sits on a grey bench, next to a grey stone.

A grey sky, with a grey sun. Grey birds, silent. The grey world, lost.

A grey girl in a grey room, with a grey notebook opened before her. A grey pen in her hand. A grey bow on her head. She wishes to write, but the past four notebooks she could fill with only one thing: emptiness. She dreams of something more, but there's nothing more to dream of. 

Or... What if there is?

She ran to her bedside table and opened one of the drawers. Inside, a grey candle in a jar. She took it out, putting it on the table near the window. She lit the candle, shining out bright, grey light. She took her grey pen and started writing.
Her hand was flying over the papers in all directions, writing out words she didn't know the meaning of. Then she took the papers, folded them, and put them in the candle jar.
It burned, oh how it burned! In colors of red and orange, yellow and pink! Oh how it burned!
Then the wind blew from the window, swirling around the room, getting in the jar and out, carrying the ash with it.
It flew.
The girl opened her eyes, and lost her breath. Her rosy skin, green eyes and pink cheeks were looking back at her from the reflection in the window.
Hope. Happiness.

It flew.
The old man spotted a red rose and picked it up, placing it next to the silver stone. "Goodbye, my love. I will see you soon", he says.
Freedom. Trust. Loyalty. Strength.

It flew.
A girl ran to catch the red scarf that got carried away by the wind. It lands before the feet of a boy with a yellow cap. He picks it up for her. "Is it yours?", he asks. "Yes. Yes, it is. Thank you.", the girl replies. "Please, it was my pleasure. My name is...."
Beauty. Confidence. Love.

It flew.
The sun shining with unimaginable colors, the blue sky and colorful birds singing all around them. The once grey world, now colored. The people once washed out, reborn, full of life, happy.
Color. Emotion. Music. Nature.

It flew.
What did it fly over to you?

Cicmila

Save Tonight

It's so simple really, when you think of it.

Out here, on the edge of the world, on a cliff that leads to the leap of faith. So simple, yet so underestimated. I always wanted to know more. What's on the other side? Where do time and space take us?

Full of those questions, so global so big, but in my little universe so insignificant.
In my little universe, other things matter. How do I feel right now? Will I see tomorrow? Why am I alone? It's so calm and peaceful, so soothing I never want to leave, but what awaits beyond the leap is a world I feel I am pulled to. Is it really that simple? Do you just jump and you'll be there? In the other world? If it's so easy, why am I scared?

So I sit for a while longer. I sit and hope for something to happen, though I'm not sure what. Tonight is just a single moment in time, so irrelevant. Tomorrow, there will be another tonight, and the day after, and the day after that. So simple, so, so simple.

Why is tonight so important then? Why do I feel this strange force running through me? Tonight is the night of the leap, but if tomorrow will be another tonight, could I postpone this? There is something special about tonight. I don't know yet. But tonight is almost over, and I am still sitting on the cliff, waiting. Waiting for what?

Then a hand lays down on my shoulder. I turn around, scared. But what I see...
Is me.
I take my own hand and help myself get up. "Come on.", I say, "We can do this another night. But not tonight. Let's save tonight."

I smile. I take myself by the hand and walk away from the cliff.
It was simple, oh so simple. And I found what was missing. I was waiting for someone to come and save me, not realizing that's not what I need. Not realizing all I needed was...
Me.

The most reliable person for you is you. Trust yourself.

Cicmila