quarta-feira, 2 de dezembro de 2009


I don't like showing fear. Doesn't matter what it is, doesn't matter what is involved. Or who is involved.
But there are moments. Moments of weakness, moments that you have to make yourself strong because there are people out there who need you to be strong. Who need you showing that you believe everything will turn out fine even if you are just like him. Even if you are just as scared.
I honestly don't know what makes me strong, or even if I'm strong. The only thing I know is that, when is necessary I show people a confidence I don't really have. I say everything will turn out fine, and I say I am sure that it's gonna be okay, and all I hope is that in the end, this promisse can actually be real. For them; For me.
I can tell you that I saw the whole movie going around my head all over again. I saw the traveling, and I saw the hospital. I saw the way my father hugged me, just like he did when he got home today. I saw the talk, and I heard the way they had to bring her back to life, almost as if for a minute, I had actually lost her. I heard the real story, and I saw that goodbye in my head all over again.
You wanna know the truth? The truth is, whatever happens I will deal with it, just like I did the other times. But the truth, the real truth is that what really scares me, what really makes me fear for the worse is knowing that I could have said more in that call. I could have told her what an incredible person she actually is, and how I hope that someday, I will be able to be at least half of what she is. I fear for our last conversation being me saying that everything will turn out fine and that is it. Sending her kisses and my prayers.
Because right now, all I can think about is her laugh. Or the way she talks, or the way she would be able to teach me something everyday, doesn't matter if she freaking finished her studies or not. The way she would try to teach me how to cook, just to see how I am horrible unless it comes to her pizzas. The way she would tell me stories from her childhood, or how her father came to Brasil.
To tell you the truth, another one as you can see, I hate show people how I am feeling, the way I am doing now. I hate the feeling of how weak I am and how I am being dramatic. But for her, I will show it again, and again. Because she deserves it. She deserves me hoping to see her one last time, and hoping to talk to her one last time. She deserves the way I will be sitting in that damn hospital for as long as I have to, until I need to leave because I am too smeally. Until I can see her. Even if it is just from a window.
I know it's too much hopes that I am asking for. But I don't care, because I will have hope until I can't anymore. Because she deserves us hoping for her. She deserves me hoping for her.
Because, once you see fear where you never expected; Once you see fear, in your father's eyes, all you can do is hope.
And that is what I will keep doing. Hoping.

Um comentário:

Marcelle disse...

you're not weak. trust me, you're anything but weak.
And I know she isn't either.
And I know that whatever you said to her was perfect. Even if you think you could have said more, sometimes whatever we say already means the world to others.
Hoping is what you do, what we do.
Hold on to it. And everything will be fine.