Seis e meia da manhã acordou. Fingiu ter levantado por dez minutos. Viu a hora. Realmente levantou. Colocou uma blusa e logo depois uma calça. Olhou para sua reflexão no espelho. Viu que seu cabelo não tinha solução e desceu as escadas. Abriu a porta do quintal. Seu cachorro sentou ao seu lado enquanto você tomava leite. Brincou com ele. Subiu para seu quarto. Escovou os dentes. Colocou seu all star. Ligou seu Ipod. Entrou no carro. Seguiu para a escola.
Duas aulas. Seu professor de história faltou. Intervalo. Risadas. Sinal. As duas classes se juntam. Bagunça. Um pouco de desconforto. Intervalo. Subiu nas cadeiras para poder sair de onde estava. Risadas. Salgado e Coca - Cola. Conversas. Sinal. Duas últimas aulas. Sinal.
Esperou sua mãe. Foi para casa. Arrumou suas coisas e foi para a aula de música. Aula prática. Foi pegar o caderno com sua irmã. Deixou seu celular no toque psicose para que ela passasse vergonha. Voltou para aula prática. Música. Desceu para aula teórica. Encontrou seus amigos. O celular tocou e sua irmã passou vergonha. Conversas. Risadas. Histórias de professores. Perdeu a aula teórica. Viu seu amigo correndo desesperado para a rodoviária. Risadas. Lembranças. Não viu o tal cara que um dia te deixou meio boba. Não se importou. Foi esperar sua mãe em frente a escola. Ela chegou. Entrou no carro. Ligou o Ipod. Deixou só um fone no ouvido para poder ouvir sua mãe. Descobriu que mais uma aluna dela estava com leucemia. Vinte e quatro anos. Seis anos haviam se passado desde que sua mãe deu aula para aquela menina. Ela ainda lembrava exatamente quem era. Falou sobre a menina. Filha de uma funcionária que trabalhava com ela. Olhou para fora do carro. Viu que a grama continuava a mesma de ontem. Viu que o rio continuava na mesma altura que um mês atrás. Viu que as árvores ainda estavam no mesmo lugar em que sempre estiveram. Pensou na menina. Pensou nos pais da menina. Pensou na vida que a menina nunca terá. Pensou em como dentro de um circulo tudo mudou. Pensou em como fora dele, tudo continuava igual. Nada de diferente. Pensou na menina e em como fora do carro tudo continuava como era antes. Pensou em como o seu dia havia sido igual a outras sextas - feiras. Na sua rotina. Pensou na menina na cama do hospital enquanto você vivia sua rotina.
Não achou justo.
sexta-feira, 27 de agosto de 2010
sexta-feira, 30 de julho de 2010
Let It Be.
A part of me always thought that, at some point, It would end. That some things are not meant to always happen, that some moments are not meant to keep hurting. That some memories, are supposed to be forgotten over time and that, there is a limit for a heart to be broken. The truth? There is not. A heart can be broken over and over again. There is not a limit. It just goes on. By the same person, over and over again, time after time. Then, by someone else. By a moment. By a memorie. It never stops.
The funny part about a heart with no limits is that you can not let it bother you. If you do, there will always be someone who finds you weak, even if this someone was never alone. By this point, It doesn't matter for how long you have been by yourself or even if someday you actually had someone, you have to not care, so this way - in other people's eyes - you are not wrong.
Another funny part about a heart with no limits is that, after some time, it's not about you not letting anyone in. It's about not knowing how. The first time you do it to protect yourself. The second, for fear. The third, for missing words. And, suddenly, no matter how much you try to let yourself go, you have no idea where to begin.
Another detail - one used to hold you still - is that memories hunt you. They hunt you by songs, and by looks and even by colors. They hunt you until what you was forced to forget comes back. And it always comes back. No matter how much you try not to. That is another important detail - It will never be up to you.
One thing people should know is that a heart is like a map. Leaving a place does not mean you have never been there before. If you look at the end of the map, the part where you once were and had been forgotten, is still there. It only means you took another step. You moved from where you were before. But that place, it's marked, because it happened. And, some way, it's still there. Like a scar. And despite of what people say, time do not heal a scar but, somehow, even the angriest scars gets smaller and smaller until you can barelly see it at all. The only thing that stays is the memorie of how painful it was. Also, after so long walking, there is a time that when you look at the map and see where you have been once, you can not remember how to feel that way being where you are now.
Finally, there is the moment where you get to the end of the road. You are at your destination and that is it. Thing is, that part, in the beggining, can not feel alright with this just being it. With keeping getting your heart broken by the same person. With only meeting the wrong ones. All you can think is that there must be a limit for a heart to be broken so many times. That one place, can not keep you from trusting and going and trying. That a scar can not stay there and stop you every single time. And because of this thought, you take another rode, a leap of faith. Because you know that limits don't exist. Because you know that there is no safety net. Because you know, that in just one wrong turn, It can all go down again. Because you know how much it hurt each time, and how it can hurt again, even more. But you go. You go to give yourself another shot. You go until you can't see the rode behind you anymore. You go until there is only the map there to remind you the places you crossed and more important, that you actually crossed them.
"And when the broken hearted people living in the world agree, There will be an answer, let it be... For though they may be parted, There is still a chance that they will see... There will be an answer let it be... Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be... There will be an answer, let it be..."
The funny part about a heart with no limits is that you can not let it bother you. If you do, there will always be someone who finds you weak, even if this someone was never alone. By this point, It doesn't matter for how long you have been by yourself or even if someday you actually had someone, you have to not care, so this way - in other people's eyes - you are not wrong.
Another funny part about a heart with no limits is that, after some time, it's not about you not letting anyone in. It's about not knowing how. The first time you do it to protect yourself. The second, for fear. The third, for missing words. And, suddenly, no matter how much you try to let yourself go, you have no idea where to begin.
Another detail - one used to hold you still - is that memories hunt you. They hunt you by songs, and by looks and even by colors. They hunt you until what you was forced to forget comes back. And it always comes back. No matter how much you try not to. That is another important detail - It will never be up to you.
One thing people should know is that a heart is like a map. Leaving a place does not mean you have never been there before. If you look at the end of the map, the part where you once were and had been forgotten, is still there. It only means you took another step. You moved from where you were before. But that place, it's marked, because it happened. And, some way, it's still there. Like a scar. And despite of what people say, time do not heal a scar but, somehow, even the angriest scars gets smaller and smaller until you can barelly see it at all. The only thing that stays is the memorie of how painful it was. Also, after so long walking, there is a time that when you look at the map and see where you have been once, you can not remember how to feel that way being where you are now.
Finally, there is the moment where you get to the end of the road. You are at your destination and that is it. Thing is, that part, in the beggining, can not feel alright with this just being it. With keeping getting your heart broken by the same person. With only meeting the wrong ones. All you can think is that there must be a limit for a heart to be broken so many times. That one place, can not keep you from trusting and going and trying. That a scar can not stay there and stop you every single time. And because of this thought, you take another rode, a leap of faith. Because you know that limits don't exist. Because you know that there is no safety net. Because you know, that in just one wrong turn, It can all go down again. Because you know how much it hurt each time, and how it can hurt again, even more. But you go. You go to give yourself another shot. You go until you can't see the rode behind you anymore. You go until there is only the map there to remind you the places you crossed and more important, that you actually crossed them.
"And when the broken hearted people living in the world agree, There will be an answer, let it be... For though they may be parted, There is still a chance that they will see... There will be an answer let it be... Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be... There will be an answer, let it be..."
quarta-feira, 28 de julho de 2010
You right there and I, right here.
Eu já nem sei mais quanto tempo faz. Eu cansei de contar. Eu cansei de saber. E em algum momento, eu parei de me importar. O ironico é que, o que me incomoda, como incomodava antes, era exatamente esse fato. Ainda é, exatamente esse fato - O tempo.
Ele passou, e toda a história, todos os momentos, passaram junto com ele. Vieram e foram, como é para ser.
Sabe qual o problema? Você me fez insegura. Você veio, você ficou e eu achei que seria isso, não existiria um adeus, pelo menos, não com você. E foi exatamente o contrário. Existiu um adeus. Existiu um adeus que me deixou marcas, e existiu um adeus que eu mantive comigo por muito tempo. Um adeus que eu não queria aceitar. Um adeus que foi decisão sua e, depois de um tempo, se tornou também decisão minha.
Eu não te odeio, eu quero deixar isso claro. Eu te amei um dia, e eu acho que os acontecimentos não foram graves a ponto de todo aquele sentimento que eu tinha por você virar ódio. Mas eles também não viraram afeição. Eles não viraram carinho. Eles, infelizmente, viraram raiva. E viraram medo. Mais do que tudo, eles viraram medo. Medo do de novo. Medo do replay. Medo de assistir a mesma cena, viver a mesma cena e, mais uma vez, não poder fazer nada diferente.
É essa a parte que eu realmente odeio em você. O que você me fez. Como, por mais que não sobre sentimento nenhum meu por você, você ainda consiga ser aquele a me trazer insegurança. O problema é que, todas as vezes que você se aproxima de alguém próximo a mim, eu tenho a sensação de que eu vou perder essa pessoa. Eu tenho a sensação de que você vai tirar essa pessoa de mim, por mais ridículo que isso soe. E, acredite, eu sei o quão ridículo isso soa e é. Mas não passa. Esse medo de você levar quem puder embora, não passa.
Esse é o grande problema. Eu quero você lá e eu aqui. Eu quero que as pessoas parem de achar que eu ainda tenho uma paixão escondida por você, eu quero que entendão que não é paixão, é medo. Eu não quero soar uma grande egoísta quando penso em não querer dividir.
Eu quero que esse medo passe como o tempo passou; como você passou. Só isso.
Você lá e eu aqui. Como estabelecemos a muito tempo.
Ele passou, e toda a história, todos os momentos, passaram junto com ele. Vieram e foram, como é para ser.
Sabe qual o problema? Você me fez insegura. Você veio, você ficou e eu achei que seria isso, não existiria um adeus, pelo menos, não com você. E foi exatamente o contrário. Existiu um adeus. Existiu um adeus que me deixou marcas, e existiu um adeus que eu mantive comigo por muito tempo. Um adeus que eu não queria aceitar. Um adeus que foi decisão sua e, depois de um tempo, se tornou também decisão minha.
Eu não te odeio, eu quero deixar isso claro. Eu te amei um dia, e eu acho que os acontecimentos não foram graves a ponto de todo aquele sentimento que eu tinha por você virar ódio. Mas eles também não viraram afeição. Eles não viraram carinho. Eles, infelizmente, viraram raiva. E viraram medo. Mais do que tudo, eles viraram medo. Medo do de novo. Medo do replay. Medo de assistir a mesma cena, viver a mesma cena e, mais uma vez, não poder fazer nada diferente.
É essa a parte que eu realmente odeio em você. O que você me fez. Como, por mais que não sobre sentimento nenhum meu por você, você ainda consiga ser aquele a me trazer insegurança. O problema é que, todas as vezes que você se aproxima de alguém próximo a mim, eu tenho a sensação de que eu vou perder essa pessoa. Eu tenho a sensação de que você vai tirar essa pessoa de mim, por mais ridículo que isso soe. E, acredite, eu sei o quão ridículo isso soa e é. Mas não passa. Esse medo de você levar quem puder embora, não passa.
Esse é o grande problema. Eu quero você lá e eu aqui. Eu quero que as pessoas parem de achar que eu ainda tenho uma paixão escondida por você, eu quero que entendão que não é paixão, é medo. Eu não quero soar uma grande egoísta quando penso em não querer dividir.
Eu quero que esse medo passe como o tempo passou; como você passou. Só isso.
Você lá e eu aqui. Como estabelecemos a muito tempo.
sexta-feira, 11 de junho de 2010
Dear Juliet,
I am not sure what this means. And I am not sure what I am doing here. I don't know why I am doing this, but I felt I had to.
People usually laugh when I tell them this, but when I was four or five, I would watch as much as I could my parent's marriage. It was either The little mermaid, or that old tape. Thing is, the reason I watched it wasn't for the romance. I loved the music - It wasn't the usual, traditional one - it had a soft beat. I loved how everytime I was watching it, my mother would start telling about what the hell had that woman done with her hair - There were flowers everywhere. I loved to watch how the groom - my father - would look at the bride - my mother. That look is what kept me on my feet fifteen years later. Because of that tape, every time I am at a wedding I can't help but look at the groom at the end of the aisle in the very moment the bride comes in. Doesn't matter how silly it is, or it means. It's actually the only part of the wedding I like - when they look at each other in a way where there's only both in the room with a lifetime time waiting for them.
I read once that love is being able to listen the laugh during the storm. That love, is when your half wears different kinds of socks and you find it adorable. That, love, is when you lick the whole yogurt and he laughs at you, licking it off of your nose. That love is when two flowers open, when the sky turns dark and when the rain falls and the two halfs keep themselves as one. At some point, that sounded simple. Hard, but simple.
I have only been in love once.
Did I tell you how much I love Ice Cream? I love Ice Cream. I call it the food of Gods. My favorite is flocus. Ice Cream is like my pizza - I can't not have it - But it's more necessary. I don't feel always the need to have it - like I do with pizza - but when I am not okay, it's what makes everything better.
I loved him more than Flocus' Ice Cream. I loved the way he smiled, I loved the way he talked, I loved the way I felt when he was around even if I never admited out loud. I loved how everything felt alright just with him being close. I loved the feeling of being in love at the same time I hated. I loved him.
But loving someone isn't enough sometimes. Sometimes it's just a feeling and even though it hurts so much, you have to make yourself let go. And I did. It actually felt good. I could look at him and don't feel anything, at all. I could pass by him and not need to look into his eyes. My heart wouldn't beat so fast anymore. My hands didn't sweat so much every time he was near. I could keep myself together with no problem.
Thing is, time passed and I forgot what the feeling of being in love is. I know what happens, and what I will probably feel if it happens again, but I don't remember the feeling. I can't replay it in my head anymore. I can't know exactly what it is like to be in love anymore. And I miss that. I miss the smiles and I miss the stealing looks. I miss what those things meant. I miss what those things would make happen inside of me. I miss the butterflies. And today, I am so full of walls, I don't actually let myself feel those things anymore. I protect myself. And this...well, this is wrong.
I felt that kind of love one day. It may have been platonic, but I did. The kind that keeps you going. That makes you wanna go to school to see his eyes one more time. The kind that, just to think of him with someone else, you feel something you never thought you could. The kind that you would do everything to have just one more conversation with him. One more smile. One more hug.
So, I guess I admire you, Juliet. Cause, at the same time you can be everything I hate, you are also everything I hope in people. You didn't give up. You didn't stop yourself. People are so afraid of loving today, of getting hurt, or of hurting people, that they simply forget to feel. To let go. To give themselves a chance. To let themselves fall in love. To give time for it to happen.
I once heard that in the end, you won't think about all the money you made, or how you had the perfect job. You will think about who was by your side. And, probably, that is true.
For that, here is the thing - I still believe in love. Maybe not the happilly ever after, but I believe in love. It got hard for me at one point to believe, It just didn't feel real anymore. When everything around you falls apart, and you are still alone (in that kind of way), it's not easy to keep believing. But I do. I believe that there are people who love each other and I believe that, even though thinking there is someone out there who completes you is a complete lie - No one should carry such a heavy position in your life - I believe that there are people who complement the other; People that are already complete without needing anyone to do that and when they find someone, that person is a plus. I believe people who have a world of chances to someone else.
I believe giving youself a chance is always valid. And I believe that it's never too late. I believe you have to tell the people you love that you do love them, before it's too late, doesn't matter if that makes you feel vulnerable. I believe second chances won't hold itselfs there forever and you have to grab it before it's too late. I believe 'too late' and 'What if' are things that will mean a lifetime of questions if you don't give it a chance. I believe heartbreaks are worth it when it means you at least tried. I believe sometimes you have to take the risk or else the line creep up on you, and before you know it, you are standing on the other side. I believe belief is necessary. I believe being careful is important. I believe that those novel things - of marrying after only being together for weeks, because they believe they found their soulmates - is crap. I believe love has its own time.
Most important, I believe I love Yous are forever. People change, feelings change, but when you loved someone once, it's there. A different kind of love, but its still love.
I believe that you don't need to always think about tomorrow or what it means when you are with someone. I believe in just being there, and smelling his cologne and remembering his taste.
I believe goodbyes sometimes are necessary.
I believe writting a letter to someone who does not exist is - crazy - but something that makes you look around and see things maybe a little better.
I believe I will have my evangeline. I believe happy endings or magnifics endings don't make a story the best ever told. And despite everything, I believe the greatest story ever told, is our own.
C.
People usually laugh when I tell them this, but when I was four or five, I would watch as much as I could my parent's marriage. It was either The little mermaid, or that old tape. Thing is, the reason I watched it wasn't for the romance. I loved the music - It wasn't the usual, traditional one - it had a soft beat. I loved how everytime I was watching it, my mother would start telling about what the hell had that woman done with her hair - There were flowers everywhere. I loved to watch how the groom - my father - would look at the bride - my mother. That look is what kept me on my feet fifteen years later. Because of that tape, every time I am at a wedding I can't help but look at the groom at the end of the aisle in the very moment the bride comes in. Doesn't matter how silly it is, or it means. It's actually the only part of the wedding I like - when they look at each other in a way where there's only both in the room with a lifetime time waiting for them.
I read once that love is being able to listen the laugh during the storm. That love, is when your half wears different kinds of socks and you find it adorable. That, love, is when you lick the whole yogurt and he laughs at you, licking it off of your nose. That love is when two flowers open, when the sky turns dark and when the rain falls and the two halfs keep themselves as one. At some point, that sounded simple. Hard, but simple.
I have only been in love once.
Did I tell you how much I love Ice Cream? I love Ice Cream. I call it the food of Gods. My favorite is flocus. Ice Cream is like my pizza - I can't not have it - But it's more necessary. I don't feel always the need to have it - like I do with pizza - but when I am not okay, it's what makes everything better.
I loved him more than Flocus' Ice Cream. I loved the way he smiled, I loved the way he talked, I loved the way I felt when he was around even if I never admited out loud. I loved how everything felt alright just with him being close. I loved the feeling of being in love at the same time I hated. I loved him.
But loving someone isn't enough sometimes. Sometimes it's just a feeling and even though it hurts so much, you have to make yourself let go. And I did. It actually felt good. I could look at him and don't feel anything, at all. I could pass by him and not need to look into his eyes. My heart wouldn't beat so fast anymore. My hands didn't sweat so much every time he was near. I could keep myself together with no problem.
Thing is, time passed and I forgot what the feeling of being in love is. I know what happens, and what I will probably feel if it happens again, but I don't remember the feeling. I can't replay it in my head anymore. I can't know exactly what it is like to be in love anymore. And I miss that. I miss the smiles and I miss the stealing looks. I miss what those things meant. I miss what those things would make happen inside of me. I miss the butterflies. And today, I am so full of walls, I don't actually let myself feel those things anymore. I protect myself. And this...well, this is wrong.
I felt that kind of love one day. It may have been platonic, but I did. The kind that keeps you going. That makes you wanna go to school to see his eyes one more time. The kind that, just to think of him with someone else, you feel something you never thought you could. The kind that you would do everything to have just one more conversation with him. One more smile. One more hug.
So, I guess I admire you, Juliet. Cause, at the same time you can be everything I hate, you are also everything I hope in people. You didn't give up. You didn't stop yourself. People are so afraid of loving today, of getting hurt, or of hurting people, that they simply forget to feel. To let go. To give themselves a chance. To let themselves fall in love. To give time for it to happen.
I once heard that in the end, you won't think about all the money you made, or how you had the perfect job. You will think about who was by your side. And, probably, that is true.
For that, here is the thing - I still believe in love. Maybe not the happilly ever after, but I believe in love. It got hard for me at one point to believe, It just didn't feel real anymore. When everything around you falls apart, and you are still alone (in that kind of way), it's not easy to keep believing. But I do. I believe that there are people who love each other and I believe that, even though thinking there is someone out there who completes you is a complete lie - No one should carry such a heavy position in your life - I believe that there are people who complement the other; People that are already complete without needing anyone to do that and when they find someone, that person is a plus. I believe people who have a world of chances to someone else.
I believe giving youself a chance is always valid. And I believe that it's never too late. I believe you have to tell the people you love that you do love them, before it's too late, doesn't matter if that makes you feel vulnerable. I believe second chances won't hold itselfs there forever and you have to grab it before it's too late. I believe 'too late' and 'What if' are things that will mean a lifetime of questions if you don't give it a chance. I believe heartbreaks are worth it when it means you at least tried. I believe sometimes you have to take the risk or else the line creep up on you, and before you know it, you are standing on the other side. I believe belief is necessary. I believe being careful is important. I believe that those novel things - of marrying after only being together for weeks, because they believe they found their soulmates - is crap. I believe love has its own time.
Most important, I believe I love Yous are forever. People change, feelings change, but when you loved someone once, it's there. A different kind of love, but its still love.
I believe that you don't need to always think about tomorrow or what it means when you are with someone. I believe in just being there, and smelling his cologne and remembering his taste.
I believe goodbyes sometimes are necessary.
I believe writting a letter to someone who does not exist is - crazy - but something that makes you look around and see things maybe a little better.
I believe I will have my evangeline. I believe happy endings or magnifics endings don't make a story the best ever told. And despite everything, I believe the greatest story ever told, is our own.
C.
domingo, 6 de junho de 2010
Home.
Quando eu era pequena, eu nunca havia entendido muito bem porque alguém gostaria do para sempre. Muito menos, porque alguém desejaria o para sempre. Eu lembro de sempre esperar pelo novo, por algo que surpreendesse e que tornasse os dias ainda mais inesperados. O que eu percebo hoje é que, para mim, naquela época, o para sempre estava incluido, eu só nunca me dei conta de que ele estava lá.
O tempo passou e de repente, o para sempre, se tornou necessário. Como algo que precisava continuar lá e que nunca mudaria. Que se manteria. Por mais piegas que isso soe.
A verdade? Eu quero o para sempre. Eu não quero lembrar que o amanhã vem, e que o hoje não será para sempre. Que, em dez anos, tudo pode mudar. Ou então em um mês; seis meses.
Eu quero as risadas para sempre. Eu quero o mato, eu quero os churrascos, eu quero as brincadeiras de bobinho, eu quero a correria, eu quero os tombos, eu quero fugir de vacas e touros, eu quero os jogos de final de ano, eu quero o caderno, eu quero as salas de aula, eu quero a godiva e eu quero os cinemas. Eu quero as festas que fazem com que eu me sinta um completo peixe fora d'água, eu quero as apresentações, eu quero as brincadeiras, as viagens, minha família. Para sempre.
Eu quero as coisas que me fizeram, me definiram, aqui, do meu lado. Eu quero olhar para trás e vê-las e eu quero olhar para frente e continuar sendo capaz de vê-las. Eu não quero o incerto. Eu quero aquilo que faz com que eu me sinta em casa. Eu não tenho medo do futuro. Mas, nesse momento, eu não quero o futuro.
Eu quero o Para Sempre. Eu quero que o tempo se mantenha. Eu não quero que ele passe. Eu quero o Pó mágico. Peter Pan? Sininho? Alguém?
O tempo passou e de repente, o para sempre, se tornou necessário. Como algo que precisava continuar lá e que nunca mudaria. Que se manteria. Por mais piegas que isso soe.
A verdade? Eu quero o para sempre. Eu não quero lembrar que o amanhã vem, e que o hoje não será para sempre. Que, em dez anos, tudo pode mudar. Ou então em um mês; seis meses.
Eu quero as risadas para sempre. Eu quero o mato, eu quero os churrascos, eu quero as brincadeiras de bobinho, eu quero a correria, eu quero os tombos, eu quero fugir de vacas e touros, eu quero os jogos de final de ano, eu quero o caderno, eu quero as salas de aula, eu quero a godiva e eu quero os cinemas. Eu quero as festas que fazem com que eu me sinta um completo peixe fora d'água, eu quero as apresentações, eu quero as brincadeiras, as viagens, minha família. Para sempre.
Eu quero as coisas que me fizeram, me definiram, aqui, do meu lado. Eu quero olhar para trás e vê-las e eu quero olhar para frente e continuar sendo capaz de vê-las. Eu não quero o incerto. Eu quero aquilo que faz com que eu me sinta em casa. Eu não tenho medo do futuro. Mas, nesse momento, eu não quero o futuro.
Eu quero o Para Sempre. Eu quero que o tempo se mantenha. Eu não quero que ele passe. Eu quero o Pó mágico. Peter Pan? Sininho? Alguém?
domingo, 11 de abril de 2010
What should have been said.
I can't talk.
What happened? Why don't you say anything?
I can't talk. Anything about what?
When did this happen?
I can't talk. Nothing happened.
Why did you cry?
I'm weak. Hormones.
Why don't you just let go?
I just can't let you down. Let go of what?
How are you gonna be okay if you don't let yourself feel?
I don't know. I do feel.
Why can't you just say what is wrong?
I don't know how. There is nothing wrong.
You need to live one day after the other.
I already do. Ok.
Was there something that made you like this?
Yes. No.
Is there anything I can do?
Yes. No.
That is it? Then, I guess I am gonna go now.
No. Please, stay. Sure.
Bye then.
I am sorry. See ya.
You know, whenever you need to, just talk to me, okay?
I can't talk. How the hell am I supposed to re-learn now? I just want you to hug me.
I just want you to hug me, and never let go. Of course.
Bye.
I...Bye.
What happened? Why don't you say anything?
I can't talk. Anything about what?
When did this happen?
I can't talk. Nothing happened.
Why did you cry?
I'm weak. Hormones.
Why don't you just let go?
I just can't let you down. Let go of what?
How are you gonna be okay if you don't let yourself feel?
I don't know. I do feel.
Why can't you just say what is wrong?
I don't know how. There is nothing wrong.
You need to live one day after the other.
I already do. Ok.
Was there something that made you like this?
Yes. No.
Is there anything I can do?
Yes. No.
That is it? Then, I guess I am gonna go now.
No. Please, stay. Sure.
Bye then.
I am sorry. See ya.
You know, whenever you need to, just talk to me, okay?
I can't talk. How the hell am I supposed to re-learn now? I just want you to hug me.
I just want you to hug me, and never let go. Of course.
Bye.
I...Bye.
quarta-feira, 31 de março de 2010
You just Jump.
The storm's all about who you become, and how you dance in the rain. You go, go, go, and never stops. Never look behind. But after all, why would you? It always gets you somewhere. Even if it's not the prettiest place. You are always a different person that you were when the storm began. And maybe...just maybe..that is already worth it enough.
"Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step. There's no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That's the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.
And you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You'll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.
And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about." — Haruki Murakami
"Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step. There's no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That's the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.
And you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You'll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.
And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about." — Haruki Murakami
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