About love in all it's glory · For the mind and soul · Stories of all sorts · Stuff · Thoughts and more

Letters to my exes (dedicated to F)

I don’t know if I should thank you, hate you, or admit that it took me 10 years to get over you…

I’m still not ready to let anyone in, not even after such a long time because I’m afraid… I’m afraid I’ll get hurt again… And I will not have my heart broken like that ever again.

You gave me 7 years, wonderful and not so wonderful years, and I thought that I was the lucky one, that I will be one of those success stories where my first love will also be my last love… And in some ways that is true.. Just not in the romance, happy ever after way…

It was the best of times and it was the worst of times as they say… And I remember it all..

Remember how we used to fight? It was almost therapeutic, the way we screamed, the way we threw things at each other, at the walls… It has been so long since I could be totally crazy like that in front of anyone. I would scare everyone away… Few have seen me somewhat angry and they are afraid, but you… You were the one that could bring out, and also tame the crazy in me. No one does that, and I hope someone will, because otherwise I might end up driving up to a deserted hill and screaming at the stars, and it’s just not that therapeutic if there is no one to yell with you, or at you.

Remember how we used to walk for hours and talk about everything? No one does that anymore… How do we get to know someone if you don’t talk to them? The small things, the big things and all the things in between…

Remember how you used to hold my hand? I felt so safe…

I don’t know if you remember, but I remember everything and it’s a blessing and a curse… Every moment was a moment that shaped the way I feel about relationships… And I still want it all, the good, the bad, the ugly and the crazy.

Thank you for all that you have given me, but f*** you for making me afraid to love again!



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Collateral Beauty

Howard says in the beginning of the movie: We’re here to connect. Love, time, death. Now these three things connect every single human being on earth. We long for love, we wish we had more time, and we fear death.

The movie, the actors, the message… I can’t even comprehend the tragedy of losing someone so close to you, someone that is a part of you, but Will Smith made it so relatable that I can’t stop crying.

All I ever want is to be able to love someone with my whole heart and my whole being, to be completely immersed in a love that consumes you, and I believe that only a child can be the receiver of that kind of love because they are and will always be part of us. So the idea of losing that part of us is terrifying, and yet so many people live with that grief and they survive, some even thrive.

And  how do they that? I think that they have a support system, a way to vent their frustrations, a way to start rebuilding their life.

So it can be writing letters and sending them out in the Universe, running a marathon, dancing, crying, yelling… It doesn’t matter… All that matters is that people find the power to go on and that’s all that we need to do no matter what happens, just go on, live the life you deserve and be as happy as you can be!

Howard wrote 3 Letters, that made everything start to move again…

To Time, To Love, To Death.

If you open yourself and ask for help, it comes in all sort of directions.


And the soundtrack…


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Letters to my exes. Part II – S and J

This is not my story, however it is a beautiful story that deserved to be said 🙂


Hello, it’s me. I was wondering if after all these years you’d like to meet

Okay, I am exaggerating, I know it hasn’t been years since we last saw each other. Or since we broke up. We actually met shortly after and that was the last time we saw. We spoke on the phone after briefly about some concert tickets. But nothing more. But I still wonder if we are going to meet again. What are we going to tell each other if that happens? Is it going to be awkward? Is it going to be like we used to be friends and haven’t met in a while? How?

The thing is, J, that I miss you. I’ve always missed you. I’m thinking about you every day. Every single day. I saw it as a stupid thing, that I couldn’t explain myself why am I still thinking about you. Why am I still dreaming about you. Luckily, I had my friends next to me. Not geographically, but close to my heart. They’ve been the ones listening to me ranting about everything for hours on the phone. But I moved on. I’m happy. I think you know that I moved to another country. I love my new job and I love the opportunities I’m being offered. My life has somehow changed for the better. I never felt lonely here even though I don’t have many friends.

But what am I doing? Enough about me. This is a letter to you. About us. About the most beautiful relationship I’ve ever had. With ups and downs, with fights and the most beautiful moments someone could give me.

We met on Tinder and been chatting there for over a month. At first, when I saw your pictures, I didn’t think you would ever meet me. Or that you would ever like me. We stopped talking for some time because my friend was visiting London and decided to spend time with her. But we reconnected after. We both lived in zone 5, you in the west, myself in the east. Remember that we planned on moving closer to city centre? You were supposed to move with your friend and I wanted to move on my own. Have you managed to move from there meanwhile?

We had three dates in a week, right before you left for your holidays. You said that was the most dates you ever had with someone from Tinder. We first met at Marble Arch. You had a burgundy hoodie from H&M on you. We tried to find each other and it took us a while. You kept on saying that your hoodie was red and I was looking for someone with an intense red colour. But we found each other. We went to Carluccio’s and had some drinks. Do you remember how much time we spent there? About six or seven hours. We had an amazing time. We laughed. I liked you. And I assume you liked me too. At the end of our second date I asked you, in the middle of the tube station: “You want to kiss me, don’t you?” And you blushed and giggled like a teenager. But we didn’t kiss. We saved that for our third date when we met after you finished work and went to your place. Then you left to the airport. I honestly didn’t know if you wanted to meet after or not, but I knew I wanted to. I wanted to date you and start a relationship with you even though I said that I didn’t want any. I remember you texting me every time you had wifi. Even if you were having breakfast, lunch or dinner with your family. You were giving me the attention I wanted. But apparently I wasn’t the only one you’ve been texting. I found that out later.

We’ve truly had some amazing dates. It was the summer I wanted and I had it. We couldn’t meet often at first because of your busy schedule and I wasn’t happy with that. But it was better than nothing I guess. But on one of our dates I remember you called me Superman because I had a Superman t-shirt on. I loved it. You used to call me your man too. I felt so important and so connected to you when you were calling me “my man”. Yours. Nobody else’s. But what went wrong? I mostly remember the nice moments. And I can’t remember the reasons why we were arguing so often. Was I too possessive? Might have been this. I know sometimes my behaviour was like a child’s. I was moody and there was always something that could have been better. I was reproaching you that you never were the bigger person in our arguments. You never understood me and you’ve always blamed me. “You were always right.” I guess it was my fault too that I didn’t let the relationship flow naturally.

Do you remember when you took me to meet your family? I was on cloud nine. Nervous, panicked. I wanted to buy them some gifts and you didn’t let me to. That was the first time someone took me home and presented me as their partner. And since then I fell in love with you more and more.

I loved you so much that I didn’t care about the money I spent on spoiling you. I just wanted this to be your best relationship. I wanted to beat each and every of your exes. I wanted to be the one. Your one and only. But I was afraid that you’d take all these things for granted because you never gave much back. You denied that. You loved me, the person, not the things that I was doing for you. Or at least that’s what you said back then.

How are you, J? Are you thinking about me from time to time? I think about you every day. Because I love you. And I always did. Even after I found out that you were still talking to your ex. Even after I found the messages you were sending each other, which weren’t just friendly or innocent as you thought they were. You were still thinking about him. As a friend, you said. But it wasn’t only that. I have decided back then to not give up on you because you were everything I ever wanted. And you were there, in my bed. Even if all my friends told me to break up with you because you have been sexting with your ex, I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to let you go. But nothing was the same after that.

I don’t remember exactly when I decided to take you home with me to meet my friends and visit my home country. But I do remember we had a big argument two weeks before our flights were scheduled. I begged you to not break up, to wait and see how these two weeks are going because we had planned this holiday in advance. And luckily, for two weeks our relationship was fine. Our holiday was amazing too. We visited some cities and had our peace. The relationship was at its best and you said that you loved how was I feeling and behaving in that week. But, of course, we argued again. And again it was because of your ex. How could he have been so present in our life when you haven’t seen him in a year. I assume it was because of my paranoia. That holiday was the best I ever had so far. I thought that our relationship was never going to end, that we were stronger and more connected than ever. Sometimes I’m looking at the pictures and I miss you even more. I miss your face, your body, your voice, those big blue eyes and your blonde hair. I miss how our bodies felt when we were touching each other. I miss how perfect we seemed from the outside, like we were made for each other.

You were so excited about Christmas. You told me it was your favourite holiday. We gave each other some nice presents. I really appreciated how you remembered that I wanted that gadget and all the effort you put in finding the best one. You appreciated my personalised present too. It was something you needed and I thought it would remind you always of me. It was the best Christmas ever with your family. I felt good, like I was part of the family. I can’t put my appreciation for your family into words. We wore Christmas jumpers and had a nice family dinner. Everything was merry and I loved the joyfulness you were spreading. But the unavoidable happened again and we argued. This was the biggest fight we have ever had. I wanted to leave back home, we shouted at each other on the streets. You have no idea how much do I regret that. And it was for a stupid reason too. We made up after but the relationship was falling apart.

Not long after you decided to break up. Again, I begged you not to. That it would be different, that I would never do the same again, and that our relationship could go forward. But you were decided to do this. Now that I’m looking back, you did the right right thing, both for you and for me. I was just lying to myself that the relationship could work. And I did this all the time. But the truth is that I never wanted to lose you. I’m sad it ended, I’m sad we are not talking to each other anymore or that I don’t have you in my life. It did hurt me when you didn’t wish me happy birthday and that you didn’t want to keep in touch after. But maybe it is for the best. Maybe we will meet again. Maybe it will not be awkward. Maybe we will act like grownups this time. Maybe we will enjoy hearing each other’s stories. Maybe you still think about me or about us. Maybe you miss me or not. But one thing is sure, I still love you.


I hope you’re well,



P.S. There were a lot more beautiful things to write about, but they will always be in mind and in my heart.

P.P.S. Do you remember when you used to tease me on the street by touching me or holding my hand because I was shy and didn’t like public displayed affection on the way to Strawberry Hill House? Do you remember when you first said you loved me by mistake in Brighton? Do you remember when we had breakfast on the 40th floor and that whole weekend? Do you remember our walks in Hampstead Heath or Richmond Park or Virginia Water? Do you remember when I first brought you a coffee at work because you said you were tired? Do you remember when we were watching horror films and I was protecting you? Do you remember? Because I do.

About love in all it's glory · Bucharest Life · For the mind and soul · Stuff · Thoughts and more

Letters to my exes (dedicated to L)

I don’t know if this was supposed to be a letter, a story or just some scribbles gathered on a cold December night, when loneliness seemed to be the only thing I can feel.

I thought (foolishly) that the wall I carefully put up 8 years ago will protect me, but it seems that even the strongest barriers fall at one point.

I realized this year that my “cold-hearted bitch” façade is just that, a façade, and that scares me, because I have never been particularly good at controlling my feelings and emotions.

You felt that, me losing my control on a warm summer night, when overcome with a stupid jealousy I wrote to you, wishing you a good life next to a non-existent wife. You told me “You have issues” and you were probably right.

My friends say that I am  fool for giving you so many chances, my mother says I should understand that some aspect of your life are more complicated and that’s why you need space.

Honestly I don’t know what to believe……………………………………………………………….

What I know with certainty is that despite my better judgment, despite my crumbling wall, I fell in love with you… or at least that’s what I believe. It’s been so long since I have allowed myself the possibility to think that, so I’m not sure what my feelings are.

But what I do know with certainty is that my heart breaks a little more every time you refuse to see me, every time you disappear, every time you don’t me over because “your place is a mess”.

Then all of a sudden you appear and I can finally breathe again.

I vividly remember all the moments that brought me here and I wonder if there was ever any chance of me getting away from you or if this was a little test from the Universe, to show me that my wall was just a silly thing, a house made of straw that you can easily blow away.

You’ve been on my mind for more than a year and in my life for the last 8 months.

I remember those first messages we exchanged, how I giggled like a teenage girl, so impressed with you and the way you were.

Fast forward a few months and here you are again, popping up in my life and silly me being polite, answering your messages, but still we didn’t see each other.

Fast forward a couple of months and suddenly it’s May 2015 and you want to see me no matter what, so you come to see a movie with me and my friends and the world seemed a good place finally. And then, that same week we go shopping and we skip like 20 relationship steps and I feel like I’ve known you my whole life and being with you is the most natural thing in the world.

Needless to say, the sex was great. We broke the couch that first night and it was one the best nights of my life!

Keeping up with the intense rhythm of our relationship, that same weekend I celebrated my birthday and you got to meet my sister and my friends and I was floating on clouds, being so happy that everything seemed to fit perfectly. You fitted in with me and my friends but then Sunday came and my little bubble of happiness was busted. You said you were going to go meet some friends and come back to me, but it took you weeks to come back.

I understand your life was complicated, but all I needed was a few messages and reassurances that I can still be part of your life.

So here we are to that summer night when I went crazy and wrote you that message that caused yet another “break”.

Fast forward a couple of months to September when you appeared again, but I was busy getting ready for my high school reunion so I decided to just be polite and keep it friendly, but in October you wanted to see me and somehow I was so spellbound by you that I decided to ignore my instincts and let you back in all over again. That’s when things got interesting… you decided to tell me your real name… You can’t imagine how hurt I was by the fact that while you were busy wowing me, you couldn’t trust me with your real name.

But silly me, I ignored this too, because of what I felt and how I felt with you.

You were honest with me, told me about your ex-fiancé and I wanted everything to be ok, so I was relaxed for a while, we made plans and I was happy.

But then you disappeared again, and I can’t sleep at night when you’re not with me and I’m afraid to tell you I miss you so much sometimes that it gets hard to breathe. With every passing day, I think it’s somehow my fault that you don’t want to see me so I wait, I hope and for now all I want is for you to come home to me, get undressed and sit naked in my bathroom while we shower and talk about our day.


*this letter has been written on the 3rd of December 2015


About love in all it's glory · For the mind and soul · Thoughts and more

Grief – a few thoughts about it

I know that I am not a mother, or even wife, barely a girlfriend, but I got that call… That horrible, heart shattering call that puts your life in a complete spin and nothing makes sense anymore…

It doesn’t matter if it’s in the middle of the night or the middle of the day, it doesn’t even matter if the bearer of the horrible news tries to make the blow softer or they just throw the information at you. The effect is the same… pure and raw despair!

And the worst feeling in the world is the horrible premonition when the conversation starts… “I have to tell you something…” and you know, you just know and your knees go weak and your heart sinks and you can’t think anymore…

Don’t let anyone tell you grief is not necessary or that person you lost wouldn’t want you to feel like this…

You have the right to feel everything that you are feeling and you have the right to fall to pieces… How else will you discover the glue to put you back together? No one can “fix it”, no one can “take it away” and trust me it never goes away, no matter how much you try.

It’s been 3 years since that moment and I will find myself walking down the street and thinking how much I want her to see me now, to look at me with that look of pure adoration and tell me I am the best and the brightest and the one that deserves to have the castle.

But she will never tell me all that again and I will forever wonder what I could have done better, how I would have said goodbye, how I would have……

It never goes away, the grief is a part of my life that reminds me never to take anything and anyone for granted, but I have a good support system and if I ever find the courage to talk about it, I know someone will listen and be there for me….

But for now I will keep my eyes shut and nothing will be able to hurt me….

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De pe internet culese :)

La un search pe google banal despre cumnati, grade de rudenie si altele am dat peste aceasta perla: v-o redau cuvant cu cuvant, ca si scrisul ajuta la efect! 🙂


sunt indragostita de fratele sotului meu,e pacat dk as vrea sa fiu cu el?

sun cu un barbat de 5 ani am o fetita cu el de 1,5 si de 3 ani sunt indragostita de fratele sotului meu,cu cat incerc sa il uit mai mult ma indragostesc, nu stiu ce sa mai ma fac,si el ma iubeste si chiar am avut relati de 2,3 ori pe an.

RASPUNS  de la kawa

poi…dk tot ti-ai traso cu cumnatul tau, la ce mai pusesi intrebarea?
nu cumva trebuia sa ti-o pui (pe intrebare) inainte de ,,fericitul eveniment,,?
stiai k in biblie scrie k, atunci cand ii moare barbatul, fratele lui (al barbatului) tre sa se ocupe (inclusiv sexos) de nevasta lu`fratele mort?
acuma sper sa nu intelegi sa-l omori pe barbatul tau, k sa ramai cu fratele lui!!
da` te faci si tu k nu ai inteles bine ce scria in biblie si extinzi valabilitatea celor scrise acolo si in timpul vietii sotului!

Speram ca biata femeie a gasit o rezolvare la aceasta dilema si a reusit sa aleaga un barbat 🙂 daca doriti sa vedeti comentarii ulterioare gasiti toata conversatia de pe forum aici

About love in all it's glory · Campanie · For the mind and soul · Stories of all sorts · Stuff · Thoughts and more


Some books are not easy to categorize. For example Me before you written by Jojo Moyes is a book about love, but not the classical romance with the expected ending. It tested my patience, my psychological knowledge and last, but not least my capacity to hold it together 🙂 Wonderful characters and wonderful storytelling make it easy for this book to have a big impact on anyone reading it. And the biggest lesson I learned from this book is that “You know, you can only actually help someone who wants to be helped”, and we all need to respect that.

‘So … ’

‘You’re not going to –’

‘I’m not going to try and change your mind.’

‘If you’re here, you accept it’s my choice. This is the first thing I’ve been in control of since the accident.’

‘I know.’

And there it was. He knew it, and I knew it. There was nothing left for me to do.

Do you know how hard it is to say nothing? When every atom of you strains to do the opposite? I had practiced not saying anything the whole way from the airport, and it was still nearly killing me. I nodded. When I finally spoke, my voice was a small, broken thing. What emerged was the only thing I could safely say.

‘I missed you.’

He seemed to relax then. ‘Come over here.’ And then, when I hesitated. ‘Please. Come on. Right here, on the bed. Right next to me.’

I realized then that there was actual relief in his expression. That he was pleased to see me in a way he wasn’t actually going to be able to say. And I told myself that it was going to have to be enough. I would do the thing he had asked for. That would have to be enough.

I lay down on the bed beside him and I placed my arm across him. I rested my head on his chest, letting my body absorb the gentle rise and fall of it. I could feel the faint pressure of Will’s fingertips on my back, his warm breath in my hair. I closed my eyes, breathing in the scent of him, still the same expensive cedar-wood smell, despite the bland freshness of the room, the slightly disturbing scent of disinfectant underneath. I tried not to think of anything at all. I just tried to be, tried to absorb the man I loved through osmosis, tried to imprint what I had left of him on myself. I did not speak. And then I heard his voice. I was so close to him that when he spoke it seemed to vibrate gently through me.

‘Hey, Clark,’ he said. ‘Tell me something good.’

I stared out of the window at the bright-blue Swiss sky and I told him a story of two people. Two people who shouldn’t have met, and who didn’t like each other much when they did, but who found they were the only two people in the world who could possibly have understood each other. And I told him of the adventures they had, the places they had gone, and the things I had seen that I had never expected to. I conjured for him electric skies and iridescent seas and evenings full of laughter and silly jokes. I drew a world for him, a world far from a Swiss industrial estate, a world in which he was still somehow the person he had wanted to be. I drew the world he had created for me, full of wonder and possibility. I let him know a hurt had been mended in a way that he couldn’t have known, and for that alone there would always be a piece of me indebted to him. And as I spoke I knew these would be the most important words I would ever say and that it was important that they were the right words, that they were not propaganda, an attempt to change his mind, but respectful of what Will had said.

I told him something good.

Time slowed, and stilled. It was just the two of us, me murmuring in the empty, sunlit room. Will didn’t say much. He didn’t answer back, or add a dry comment, or scoff. He nodded occasionally, his head pressed against mine, and murmured, or let out a small sound that could have been satisfaction at another good memory.

‘It has been,’ I told him, ‘the best six months of my entire life.’

There was a long silence.

‘Funnily enough, Clark, mine too.’

And then, just like that, my heart broke. My face crumpled, my composure went and I held him tightly and I stopped caring that he could feel the shudder of my sobbing body because grief swamped me.