quinta-feira, 3 de fevereiro de 2011

When you have to let it out.

You were tired. More than anything that day, you were tired.
It was hard explaining what you really had, when not even you knew. You felt messy. Maybe that would be the word you were looking for - messy. Or, maybe, complicated, mad, frustrated, none seemed enough.
You couldn't put words in order. You couldn't say what you were actually thinking and you didn't know how to put that in paper. It felt like anything you read was talking to you, your thoughts and you were mad, all the freaking time. And, suddenly, you found yourself lost. Just lost.
Getting lost, you realised, was much easier than staying in the same place, no matter how familiar and known that place was. You also realised that, once you got lost, that feeling would not leave, it would have strong moments and weak moments; moments you didn't realise it was there and moments that it was all you realised. It left you tired; angry; frustrated. More than anything, it left you angry. And that itself would be by your side every day, choosing all the wrong moments it could to make you let it out. It made you want to say things you knew you shouldn't and couldn't, without caring about consequences or anything, for the matter.
But you couldn't say anything. All you could do was let the feeling inside of you stay, because, for a while, there was nothing you can do.
When someone finally looked at you, hugged you and told you that, even if things were going to be alright, even though it would all pass, even if you knew that yourself, there was nothing wrong to let that out, you looked at him with eyes of someone who needed to be told to stop and go back; you looked at him with eyes of gratitude. You looked at him with eyes full of tears.
And you let go.
And how much you cried.