Julia # - Etcetera

Tuesday evening, I had a skype date with a close friend I hadn't seen for a while. Now we both had a strong urge to talk. My friend had just met someone. I could tell it was serious. We had earlier both been victims of falling in love with complicated souls that promised understanding and willingness to share problems and turn loneliness into... I don't know... fun! Anyway, these were promises that never got to be fulfilled as they, the objects of our feelings had themselves to be saved first and frankly - neither my friend nor I were very good at saving people; quite the opposite.

So the conversation began. Soon enough, after my fiend had told me all about this fantastic new person and all her assets and great sides (I was half-listening, I had heard these stories before, every love story starts in a similar way) we started to discuss the ideal woman. She was beautiful of course, but that was so obvious it hardly had to be mentioned. And besides, beauty is something so easy manipulated it can't constitute a serious criterion.

I said - my woman is... me. We're interchangeable, always wanting to know more about each other, my ideal woman is memorizing my freckles, she sees solar systems in my birthmarks, and I analyze secret codes in what she mumbles when she talks in her sleep. My ideal woman always wants to be close to me, to be my saviour, although she'll keep telling me I'm the one saving her. My ideal woman is the opposite of loneliness; she's the second half, the very essence of support. My ideal woman is a babushka that carries me inside her, that is encapsulated by me, and I am swallowed by her and I carry her on the inside of my ribs.
- That is ridiculous! my friend interrupts me. I can see in the web cam he has started to prepare his dinner while I was holding my speech. You're not looking for a partner, you're looking for someone to fill the void inside of you, he states and continues: the ideal woman is not someone who solves all your problems. You're looking for some kind of life solution in your woman. Those things should be done through the help of a psychologist! I'm pretty sure that my ideal woman will create even more problems in my life; she'll stir everything around and replace all parameters with chaos.
- So you're not looking for someone to share everything with? I ask.
- Of course I do, he says. But not for an extension of myself. Quite the opposite, I want a lover, travel buddy, cell mate, and best friend. Someone judging my life from the outside, respecting it but offering alternatives through her own behaviour. Someone so independent that it hurts, someone that I will never feel that I own, someone who will always surprise me as she is thinking in different schemes than I, someone screaming at me, fighting with me, teaching me things, learning from me, together we'll reach new levels, combining our strengths, focusing on each others strong sides. But not melting into one person, that sounds ... unhealthy. Scary, terrifying even!
- But that's the point! I reply. You won't find the ideal partner without risking anything! And once you find her - and once she finds you - you will both live with your feelings on the outside. That's the most beautiful thing people can do.

And then just like that, I lost the internet connection. But I'm quite sure the discussion will continue.

Aleksandra # 17 - Paradoks

Śpieszmy się kochać, ludzie tak szybko odchodzą. (Hurry to love, people leave so quickly.)

- Father Jan Twardowski

Będziemy kochać się bardzo powoli, delikatnie, żeby zostało jeszcze coś na jutro. (We will love each other slowly, tenderly, so that something will be left for tomorrow.)

- Marcin Świetlicki

JULIA # 3 - MAD ONES

The only people for me are the mad ones.
Too mad to live alongside with taxes, regular meals and waiting for weekends to live
too mad to waste time on enough sleep, on diets and detox,
too mad to care about money, enough money, always having money,
too mad to put their boyfriends in front of friends,
too mad to abstain from making life into the greatest performance, to live the art, too mad to stand in and corner and flirt in the normal way but either dance dance dance with themselves or go straight up to the Desire and kiss his beautiful lips,
too mad to listen to their bodies rather than their instincs, too mad to quit smoking too mad to quit drinking too mad to quit living because its monday, too mad to be polite without real reason,
too mad to ever believe in impossibilities, too mad to accept a "I m sorry" without sorting the problem out, too mad to doubt their own beauty intelligence and ability to learn,
too mad to fit in, too mad to even try, too mad to listen to any other voice than the one within,
too mad to forget what they dreamt last night, too mad to be consistent, too mad to let a single second pass by without making it special.
Too mad to live too mad to do anything else than just that.
And too mad to get stagefright from all this.

There is only one danger with the mad ones, with the people that no one can stop from running straight forward. Please please all beautiful mad ones, please take care of yourselves. Please be too mad to just disappear.

Aleksandra # 1 - Why do you cry, is there something in your eye?

- Nej, jag har bara inte hunnit supa mig själv medvetslös ännu. Jag har gjort det igen, jag var en hopplös, jävla optimist som gav dig en andra chans och nu vill jag skjuta mig i självförakt. Besvikelsen över att bli besviken igen, jag som bara vill vara god och glad och ta livet med en klackspark istället för blanda vin med vodka och förbanna dagen du föddes på.

Jag skyllde min smärta på kärlek, gav upp min frihet och självrespekt i kärlekens namn och såg inte det omöjliga. Jag jämförde oss med Carrie och Big. Jag led fastän du faktiskt aldrig bad mig om det och fastän kärlek inte kräver sådana uppoffringar, men jag hade sett för många tv-serier. Jag var dum. Mea culpa.

Men det är slut med sånt nu. Det finns begränsningar av vad man kan uppnå med ren viljekraft. Jag har insikstfullt beslutat mig för att inte höra av mig, för jag

a. vill inte vara kär i någon som inte bryr sig om mig.
b. hoppas att du gillar mig tillräckligt för att höra av dig så småningom.

Får inte ligga med varje kille som skriver dikter till min ära. En man som krossar mitt hjärta är inte nödvändigtvis en lovande poet.

Jag kanske borde åka bort. Ovanför molnen skiner alltid solen. Jag kommer inte tillbaka förrän jag vet varför jag grät. Kärleken vill inte att man gråter i dess namn.