No final do Ano passado eu vi uma imagem que me marcou. Era quase Ano Novo, e estava assistindo o resumo do que aconteceu naquele ano, aquele em que, de repente, uma música parece falar pelo ano e os vídeos mostram 365 dias divididos em conquistas e tristezas. No final de todas aquelas imagens, de todo aquele desastre, eu reparei no fundo da câmera dois bombeiros no meio daquele buraco. Um deles chorava, e o outro lhe estendia a mão, e em meio a todo o caos, você via dois homens, os quais o mundo provavelmente veria como pessoas preparadas para qualquer acontecimento, abalados; surpresos; humanos. Eu não sei dizer o porquê, entre tudo o que eu vi, aquilo me trouxe lágrima aos olhos. Talvez seja até horrível pensar que antes disso, eu ainda não tinha chorado, mesmo estando com os olhos grudados na TV. E então o Ano foi embora e, de repente, centenas de pessoas estavam mortas, e quando eu achei que esse ia ser o momento inesquecível - e não de uma forma boa - deste ano, milhares de pessoas estavam mortas de novo. E de repente, o mundo parou. Parou para rezar por, pelo menos, uma pessoa viva, e parou para olhar homens e mulheres, pais e mães, filhos, netos, desesperados enquanto tentavam tirar os escombros que sufocavam um parente, ou um amigo, ou um desconhecido. Eu sei que é um assunto pesado, e eu sei que é um assunto que não acaba.
Mas ontem, enquanto eu assistia "Hope For Haiti Now", eu vi um homem que se recusou a sair de onde sua esposa estava, jurando que ela ainda estava por lá, e que viva ou morta, ele não sairia daquele lugar até encontrá-la. E quando ele a encontrou - viva e enterrada - a única coisa que ela disse pelo momento foi "Tell him, Live or Dead, I love him". E então o mundo parou de novo. E parou mais uma vez quando ela disse "Don't be afraid of death", enquanto os escombros a cobriam. E sorriu com ela, quando machucada, saiu daquele lugar cantando pela vida. Num momento de inexplicável tragédia, nós vemos uma inspiração, e nós vemos que amor, existe sim. Nós assistimos pela TV, alguns assistiram pessoalmente, e com toda a tragédia, eu vi o mundo se ver, como a muito tempo não se via, como iguais; humanos. Como aquele que podia estar lá, e como o homem que podia estar enterrando o filho. E depois que passa, não se consegue pensar em nada a não ser "Como eu sou idiota". Como eu sou idiota por ter reclamado em lavar a louça e como eu sou idiota por não querer estudar. Como eu sou idiota em estar sempre querendo mais, quando eu tenho tudo o que eu preciso aqui. E depois você pensa "Como eu queria estar lá, como eu queria poder ajudar com minhas próprias mãos".
Todo dia, nós encontramos pessoas com histórias que surpreendem, e todo dia, nós vemos ou conhecemos pessoas, que simplesmente não aceitam a palavra "Desistir" ou "Parar" no seu próprio vocabulário. E que estão sempre se mostrando mais fortes, e prontas para o que for necessário, não importa o acontecimento.
A verdade, é que talvez, nós devessemos nos preocupar mais em viver, do que em reclamar, ou do que desejar mais e mais.
As coisas podem acontecer num impusso, e aí, é tarde demais para prestar atenção no que você tem, e quem você tem.
O problema é só percebermos isso, quando algo que não pode ser medido em palavras acontece.
De repente, da vontade de viver por aqueles que não puderam.
De repente, somos iguais, braços dados ou não.
sábado, 23 de janeiro de 2010
quinta-feira, 7 de janeiro de 2010
When You Have to Stop being Selfish.
It was so loud, that you barelly could hear the sound of your own thoughts. You kept walking, first puting your shorts and then your sandals, and when your hand was free, it would go straight to your heart, like you were holding it, hoping that this way, it would make things better.
There was something about that moment, about the look she had in her eyes - one you were already familiar with - that made you hold yourself in front of that door, deciding or not if letting go and leaving would actually make things easier.
You learn when you are little that life can't be seen as the way you expect it. That the moments - the ones that keep you going- won't always be there, and that it's something you have to look for, because if you don't, they will never exist. They will never be real. And that, in those moments it's not up to your want, or your hopes, it's about doing the right thing. And between the right choice and the wrong, there is a lifetime. And once you have to face it, millions of thoughts, and millions of minutes you lived passes through you head. And also the ones you didn't yet.
Maybe that is what made you stay where you were. Maybe that is what set your mind and told you to stop being selfish and do what was right. Maybe that is what made you look in her eyes, and made you ask your biggest fear. Maybe that is what kept you still, and what left time hanging hoping for an answer, whatever it would be.
While you grow up, you learn what unhappiness means little by little. That, be unhappy, means that there wasn't a moment worth it, and that when you look behind you can't see laughter. There is a point where you realize that today won't always be happy, and it won't always be funny. And how you hope to pass throught it, is up to you.
Yesterday may have been full of laughter or full of cry, just how it can be tomorrow. You will never know. And to say you are unhappy means that you do know, and that you can't hope for a better day any longer.
Unhappiness is unfair, and unhappines is real just if you want it to be.
After you asked her, after the silence, you left that room and you went straight to your bedroom, and locked the door.
You sat in your bed, and you started trying to get your breath back.
That, right there, is the moment you realise that you will lose your breath again, without even knowing, without even hoping for a reason. And that, right there, is when you see you can cope, and you can go on, cause after everything is done and said, you can still get your breath back.
Doesn't matter how long it takes.
There was something about that moment, about the look she had in her eyes - one you were already familiar with - that made you hold yourself in front of that door, deciding or not if letting go and leaving would actually make things easier.
You learn when you are little that life can't be seen as the way you expect it. That the moments - the ones that keep you going- won't always be there, and that it's something you have to look for, because if you don't, they will never exist. They will never be real. And that, in those moments it's not up to your want, or your hopes, it's about doing the right thing. And between the right choice and the wrong, there is a lifetime. And once you have to face it, millions of thoughts, and millions of minutes you lived passes through you head. And also the ones you didn't yet.
Maybe that is what made you stay where you were. Maybe that is what set your mind and told you to stop being selfish and do what was right. Maybe that is what made you look in her eyes, and made you ask your biggest fear. Maybe that is what kept you still, and what left time hanging hoping for an answer, whatever it would be.
While you grow up, you learn what unhappiness means little by little. That, be unhappy, means that there wasn't a moment worth it, and that when you look behind you can't see laughter. There is a point where you realize that today won't always be happy, and it won't always be funny. And how you hope to pass throught it, is up to you.
Yesterday may have been full of laughter or full of cry, just how it can be tomorrow. You will never know. And to say you are unhappy means that you do know, and that you can't hope for a better day any longer.
Unhappiness is unfair, and unhappines is real just if you want it to be.
After you asked her, after the silence, you left that room and you went straight to your bedroom, and locked the door.
You sat in your bed, and you started trying to get your breath back.
That, right there, is the moment you realise that you will lose your breath again, without even knowing, without even hoping for a reason. And that, right there, is when you see you can cope, and you can go on, cause after everything is done and said, you can still get your breath back.
Doesn't matter how long it takes.
terça-feira, 29 de dezembro de 2009
YTN,
Eu queria dizer adeus. Acho que nada mais do que isso, só um adeus. Para falar a verdade, eu tentei começar essa carta umas dez vezes desde o primeiro dia de dezembro, talvez menos, talvez mais, mas eu não sabia como. Então eu acho que só vou dizer o básico, e o que eu queria desde o começo, Adeus.
Eu comecei esse ano não esperando nada para falar a verdade. Talvez algumas risadas, talvez alguns momentos ouvindo música no último, mas por motivos bobos, porque eu sou adolescente, e porque os hormônios estão a flor da pele. Pelo menos, é o que dizem.
Eu gosto de pensar que vivi esse ano, o máximo que pude. Quando eu lembro desse ano, eu lembro de risadas inacabaveis, eu lembro de histórias que provavelmente vão ficar comigo para sempre, eu lembro de conversas sérias, e eu lembro de conversas inexplicavelmente inúteis que fizeram minha noite. Eu lembro de uma zoff em que eu decidi aproveitar do jeito que eu não aproveitava haviam 3 anos, e eu lembro de como eu dancei, e ri, e cantei e tive o momento da minha vida. Quando eu lembro desse ano, é como se uma música rápida tocasse enquanto todos esses flashes passassem, e entre uns e outros eu vejo as partes que não foram tão boas.
Eu me vejo no hospital, eu me vejo naquele noite de chuva, sentava no sofá encarando a TV. Eu me vejo olhando para uma janela de vidro, rindo e mandando beijos quando o que eu mais queria era um abraço. Eu me vejo respirando fundo, e com o som no último, mas não pelos motivos que eu esperava.
É gostoso e cansativo olhar para esse ano. Eu brinquei, e eu deixei para lá coisas que não deviam mais importar ha muito tempo. Eu esqueci e eu guardei certas memórias. Eu ri, eu chorei, eu pulei, eu cai e eu dancei.
Você quer a verdade? Eu percebi que você, vem sem aviso e que muitas vezes nos faz tomar decisões as quais podemos nos arrepender pelo resto da vida, ou que podemos querer reviver exatamente a mesma coisa, para ter aquela sensação e aquele sentimento correndo dentro de nós de novo. Você vem, você fica um tempo, e passa.
Deixa marcas, deixa memórias, deixa lembranças, risadas e deixa força. Para um ano novo.
Para um recomeço. Para quando chegar na contagem zero daquele dia, nós queiramos um pouco mais, sonhemos um pouco mais, olhemos para trás e entre gargalhadas e lágrimas, digamos: Eu não mudaria um só minuto.
Então, eu já digo agora, e deixo claro tempo, que eu não posso mudar nada do que aconteceu. E que se pudesse, eu ainda não mudaria.
C.
Eu queria dizer adeus. Acho que nada mais do que isso, só um adeus. Para falar a verdade, eu tentei começar essa carta umas dez vezes desde o primeiro dia de dezembro, talvez menos, talvez mais, mas eu não sabia como. Então eu acho que só vou dizer o básico, e o que eu queria desde o começo, Adeus.
Eu comecei esse ano não esperando nada para falar a verdade. Talvez algumas risadas, talvez alguns momentos ouvindo música no último, mas por motivos bobos, porque eu sou adolescente, e porque os hormônios estão a flor da pele. Pelo menos, é o que dizem.
Eu gosto de pensar que vivi esse ano, o máximo que pude. Quando eu lembro desse ano, eu lembro de risadas inacabaveis, eu lembro de histórias que provavelmente vão ficar comigo para sempre, eu lembro de conversas sérias, e eu lembro de conversas inexplicavelmente inúteis que fizeram minha noite. Eu lembro de uma zoff em que eu decidi aproveitar do jeito que eu não aproveitava haviam 3 anos, e eu lembro de como eu dancei, e ri, e cantei e tive o momento da minha vida. Quando eu lembro desse ano, é como se uma música rápida tocasse enquanto todos esses flashes passassem, e entre uns e outros eu vejo as partes que não foram tão boas.
Eu me vejo no hospital, eu me vejo naquele noite de chuva, sentava no sofá encarando a TV. Eu me vejo olhando para uma janela de vidro, rindo e mandando beijos quando o que eu mais queria era um abraço. Eu me vejo respirando fundo, e com o som no último, mas não pelos motivos que eu esperava.
É gostoso e cansativo olhar para esse ano. Eu brinquei, e eu deixei para lá coisas que não deviam mais importar ha muito tempo. Eu esqueci e eu guardei certas memórias. Eu ri, eu chorei, eu pulei, eu cai e eu dancei.
Você quer a verdade? Eu percebi que você, vem sem aviso e que muitas vezes nos faz tomar decisões as quais podemos nos arrepender pelo resto da vida, ou que podemos querer reviver exatamente a mesma coisa, para ter aquela sensação e aquele sentimento correndo dentro de nós de novo. Você vem, você fica um tempo, e passa.
Deixa marcas, deixa memórias, deixa lembranças, risadas e deixa força. Para um ano novo.
Para um recomeço. Para quando chegar na contagem zero daquele dia, nós queiramos um pouco mais, sonhemos um pouco mais, olhemos para trás e entre gargalhadas e lágrimas, digamos: Eu não mudaria um só minuto.
Então, eu já digo agora, e deixo claro tempo, que eu não posso mudar nada do que aconteceu. E que se pudesse, eu ainda não mudaria.
C.
terça-feira, 15 de dezembro de 2009
An end.
The wind came and all you could think, was how cold the night had become. You kept trying to make it hotter and easier to breath, but It didn't work. It didn't get any simpler.
There you were, sitting on a bench, right in front of the hospital, with a full moon staring back at you, with trees whispering to the night. It was calm, in a way you had missed a lot in the last year. And you still couldn't breath. It seemed like there was something stuck in your throat, since the beggining, and you knew that you couldn't let go. Because once you did, there would be too many things lost to be ajusted. And you didn't have time to fix them.
''Hey''.
You had missed that smile. The way it would make you believe everything would be alright, even when it actually wouldn't. Like now.
''Hi''. You tried giving him a smile back, but all you could do was hold back those tears. Those twelve month tears.
'' I'm sorry. You know for...well, you know, don't you?''
''Yeah...I know''.
All you could do was stare at him, hoping for something, for any change in his eyes, like in those old days. Nothing.
When it became too much, you got your stare back at that hospital, where you should be, and where you couldn't stand the thought of going back.
'' I really am sorry, you know. It wasn't on the plans, on anyone plans actually, and I know that it wasn't speacelly on your plans. I wish I could have done something...I wish I could have done anything.''
When you looked again in his eyes, that look was there and before you knew it, he hugged you. He hugged you the way you wanted someone to have hugged you before. He hugged you telling everything you wanted in that hug, the way you wanted someone to have done at some point. He kept whispering how sorry he was, and he wouldn't stop saying how it was time to let go. Time to really let go.
All you did, was hug him back, with all the force you had inside of you. You kept the tears, promissing youself you wouldn't cry, that it wasn't the time, and that it wouldn't be right to do so. He got up to leave, and you got your eyes fixed back to the hospital waiting for him to go.
'' But...it sure was worth it...wasn't it?'' When you finally realised what he was talking about, you half smiled to him,
'' yeah...yeah, it was.''
He left, and you cried.
God, you cried.
There you were, sitting on a bench, right in front of the hospital, with a full moon staring back at you, with trees whispering to the night. It was calm, in a way you had missed a lot in the last year. And you still couldn't breath. It seemed like there was something stuck in your throat, since the beggining, and you knew that you couldn't let go. Because once you did, there would be too many things lost to be ajusted. And you didn't have time to fix them.
''Hey''.
You had missed that smile. The way it would make you believe everything would be alright, even when it actually wouldn't. Like now.
''Hi''. You tried giving him a smile back, but all you could do was hold back those tears. Those twelve month tears.
'' I'm sorry. You know for...well, you know, don't you?''
''Yeah...I know''.
All you could do was stare at him, hoping for something, for any change in his eyes, like in those old days. Nothing.
When it became too much, you got your stare back at that hospital, where you should be, and where you couldn't stand the thought of going back.
'' I really am sorry, you know. It wasn't on the plans, on anyone plans actually, and I know that it wasn't speacelly on your plans. I wish I could have done something...I wish I could have done anything.''
When you looked again in his eyes, that look was there and before you knew it, he hugged you. He hugged you the way you wanted someone to have hugged you before. He hugged you telling everything you wanted in that hug, the way you wanted someone to have done at some point. He kept whispering how sorry he was, and he wouldn't stop saying how it was time to let go. Time to really let go.
All you did, was hug him back, with all the force you had inside of you. You kept the tears, promissing youself you wouldn't cry, that it wasn't the time, and that it wouldn't be right to do so. He got up to leave, and you got your eyes fixed back to the hospital waiting for him to go.
'' But...it sure was worth it...wasn't it?'' When you finally realised what he was talking about, you half smiled to him,
'' yeah...yeah, it was.''
He left, and you cried.
God, you cried.
quarta-feira, 2 de dezembro de 2009
Hope.
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.
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.
terça-feira, 17 de novembro de 2009
Curtain's finally closing.
So...Hi.
Time really goes by, hã? Still feels like yesterday to me, something that I can barelly count in my fingers.
I don't know how to use the words. Or letters. Or anything for that matter. And I am deeply sorry if this will make no sense to you, or if at the end you won't actually understand anything I just said. Or why I just said it.
And to tell you the truth, I don't really know why I am doing this after so long. I just feel like I should, cause...well, if I knew the reason for that, I would let you know.
I can't really believe its been so long. I can't look at that old picture of us anymore, cause everytime I do, I feel like sitting in my bed, and keep holding it for as long as I can. Until my hands start hurting. Like something that should have stayed, and that I lost it. That we lost it.
I wish things wouldn't have happened the way they did. I wish the last time we talked, wouldn't have been that way, and that it wouldn't have been the last. I actually wish a lot of things.
I wish time wouldn't have runned the way it did, I wish some things wouldn't have happened. I wish that you were by my side when those things happened.
I wish I hadn't become so broken.
I can’t believe I don’t know how to start this. Or where to go with this. I can’t believe I have this one more wish, and that I have to go against it one more time. One last time. I can’t believe I have to say Goodbye to you. It’s ironic, isn’t it? How things work, how life work. How one moment you can’t stop laughing and in the blink of an eye, you lose track of who you are, or what you have to do. Of who you once were. Who you once wanted to be.
You told me once that Goodbyes don’t actually exist. Cause with goodbye, you let go and you go away. And after that, you simply forget. And nothing should be forgotten. And even though you kind of stole some, big, parts of this from Peter Pan, you changed it and made it your way. You made it your way, because it’s the way you would look at things. The way you would make my day better, when just minutes before everything sucked. The way it made me look for you every time I needed someone.
The thing is, sometimes it doesn’t work the way we want to. And sometimes, when it doesn’t work that way, we just have to go with what we have, and accept it. Say that, okay, I will go with that and in the end, even if it hurts, everything will turn out fine. Or at least we make ourselves believe in that, because it will keep hurting and it won’t go away just because you hope for an end. So, yeah, sometimes, even if we don’t want to, we have to say goodbye.
You need to know, that this is not easy for me, even if I am just writing it down. You need to know I tried my best at not having to say a goodbye. You need to know how much I wanted to end this letter with a ‘See you later’. You need to know why I am doing this. And all I can hope is that at some point, you will also understand.
I was cleaning my closet. I know, cleaning that dangerous thing? What does that have to do with anything? I found your letter. Yes, I kept because even thought it was you saying what I didn’t want to think about, it had you all over it. And that was enough for me to kept it, and every once in a while, read it again. The point is, I hadn’t read it in some time. Okay, actually a very long time. I guess what I am trying to say is that, you know when it comes to a point that something flashes into you suddenly and you feel like so much time has passed and you only came to realize that now? That you let so many things leave without even noticing and that you could have grabbed it with all the force you had and made something of it? Something good. I felt that when I read your letter again. When I read your letter one last time. Because after I sat in my bed, after I read it again, when I finished the last line, I felt something inside of me. Like It was okay again. Like I could go on, and it wouldn’t matter. That it was time to give myself something I lost a long time ago. Another chance. And you know, that it won’t happen until I say goodbye to you. You meant too much, was too much, made too much for me. It’s amazing to think that even after so many years, just reading your goodbye letter you helped me again. Made me realize who I am, what I lost, and what I will keep losing until I give another shot. Another try.
You just can’t help me forever. I have to walk with my own feet, because you are not here anymore, and it’s been this way for a very long time already. I have to prove something, I have to make sure I am capable to keep going, even if it means without you. Even if it means without you, at all.
So here I am. Saying goodbye to yesterday, to that day in the park with you, to the way you would look at me and make me smile, to the hopes of a tomorrow, to you.
There is a moment that we have to let go. I am letting go.
ps: Time is gone, and even if it means a final goodbye, I love you.
Time really goes by, hã? Still feels like yesterday to me, something that I can barelly count in my fingers.
I don't know how to use the words. Or letters. Or anything for that matter. And I am deeply sorry if this will make no sense to you, or if at the end you won't actually understand anything I just said. Or why I just said it.
And to tell you the truth, I don't really know why I am doing this after so long. I just feel like I should, cause...well, if I knew the reason for that, I would let you know.
I can't really believe its been so long. I can't look at that old picture of us anymore, cause everytime I do, I feel like sitting in my bed, and keep holding it for as long as I can. Until my hands start hurting. Like something that should have stayed, and that I lost it. That we lost it.
I wish things wouldn't have happened the way they did. I wish the last time we talked, wouldn't have been that way, and that it wouldn't have been the last. I actually wish a lot of things.
I wish time wouldn't have runned the way it did, I wish some things wouldn't have happened. I wish that you were by my side when those things happened.
I wish I hadn't become so broken.
I can’t believe I don’t know how to start this. Or where to go with this. I can’t believe I have this one more wish, and that I have to go against it one more time. One last time. I can’t believe I have to say Goodbye to you. It’s ironic, isn’t it? How things work, how life work. How one moment you can’t stop laughing and in the blink of an eye, you lose track of who you are, or what you have to do. Of who you once were. Who you once wanted to be.
You told me once that Goodbyes don’t actually exist. Cause with goodbye, you let go and you go away. And after that, you simply forget. And nothing should be forgotten. And even though you kind of stole some, big, parts of this from Peter Pan, you changed it and made it your way. You made it your way, because it’s the way you would look at things. The way you would make my day better, when just minutes before everything sucked. The way it made me look for you every time I needed someone.
The thing is, sometimes it doesn’t work the way we want to. And sometimes, when it doesn’t work that way, we just have to go with what we have, and accept it. Say that, okay, I will go with that and in the end, even if it hurts, everything will turn out fine. Or at least we make ourselves believe in that, because it will keep hurting and it won’t go away just because you hope for an end. So, yeah, sometimes, even if we don’t want to, we have to say goodbye.
You need to know, that this is not easy for me, even if I am just writing it down. You need to know I tried my best at not having to say a goodbye. You need to know how much I wanted to end this letter with a ‘See you later’. You need to know why I am doing this. And all I can hope is that at some point, you will also understand.
I was cleaning my closet. I know, cleaning that dangerous thing? What does that have to do with anything? I found your letter. Yes, I kept because even thought it was you saying what I didn’t want to think about, it had you all over it. And that was enough for me to kept it, and every once in a while, read it again. The point is, I hadn’t read it in some time. Okay, actually a very long time. I guess what I am trying to say is that, you know when it comes to a point that something flashes into you suddenly and you feel like so much time has passed and you only came to realize that now? That you let so many things leave without even noticing and that you could have grabbed it with all the force you had and made something of it? Something good. I felt that when I read your letter again. When I read your letter one last time. Because after I sat in my bed, after I read it again, when I finished the last line, I felt something inside of me. Like It was okay again. Like I could go on, and it wouldn’t matter. That it was time to give myself something I lost a long time ago. Another chance. And you know, that it won’t happen until I say goodbye to you. You meant too much, was too much, made too much for me. It’s amazing to think that even after so many years, just reading your goodbye letter you helped me again. Made me realize who I am, what I lost, and what I will keep losing until I give another shot. Another try.
You just can’t help me forever. I have to walk with my own feet, because you are not here anymore, and it’s been this way for a very long time already. I have to prove something, I have to make sure I am capable to keep going, even if it means without you. Even if it means without you, at all.
So here I am. Saying goodbye to yesterday, to that day in the park with you, to the way you would look at me and make me smile, to the hopes of a tomorrow, to you.
There is a moment that we have to let go. I am letting go.
ps: Time is gone, and even if it means a final goodbye, I love you.
quarta-feira, 4 de novembro de 2009
Sometimes we wish It wouldn't be a dream.
Eu só vi borrado. Tudo numa mistura de cores, que deixavam dificil identificar o local em que estava. E demorou um certo tempo para conseguir entender quem estava do meu lado, olhando para mim.
Aos poucos, as linhas foram se formando. E as cores se transformaram num parque. Eu quase ri, vendo como aquilo era ironico.
Não fazia 1 ano que eu havia estado nesse parque, e as lembranças eram de um sonho antigo, e de um desejo que, provavelmente, nunca aconteceria. E que nunca acontecerá.
Me surpreendi menos ainda, quando te vi, esperando que algo acontecesse, e esperando pelo momento certo para fazer o que o tinha feito vir até onde estava agora.
Eu olhei para o parque e respirei fundo. A última coisa que eu queria, era olhar nos seus olhos. E a última coisa que eu queria, era um reencontro.
Então a única coisa que fiz, foi segurar aquela sensação que tinha na garganta, de peso. Das coisas que foram deixadas de lado, e de que não foram faladas. E quando voltei meu olhar para você, esperando que tivesse sumido mais uma vez, você ainda estava no mesmo lugar, me olhando.
Eu não sei dizer o que aconteceu, nem como, mais tudo o que eu sei é que de repente, apareceu um garotinho de 13 anos na minha frente. Sem o boné roxo, mais sem dúvida, você de três anos atrás. Me olhou com aquele olhar que costumava me mandar quando alguma coisa incomodava. Eu só ouvi duas palavras.
- Me desculpe.
E então eu acordei.
Aos poucos, as linhas foram se formando. E as cores se transformaram num parque. Eu quase ri, vendo como aquilo era ironico.
Não fazia 1 ano que eu havia estado nesse parque, e as lembranças eram de um sonho antigo, e de um desejo que, provavelmente, nunca aconteceria. E que nunca acontecerá.
Me surpreendi menos ainda, quando te vi, esperando que algo acontecesse, e esperando pelo momento certo para fazer o que o tinha feito vir até onde estava agora.
Eu olhei para o parque e respirei fundo. A última coisa que eu queria, era olhar nos seus olhos. E a última coisa que eu queria, era um reencontro.
Então a única coisa que fiz, foi segurar aquela sensação que tinha na garganta, de peso. Das coisas que foram deixadas de lado, e de que não foram faladas. E quando voltei meu olhar para você, esperando que tivesse sumido mais uma vez, você ainda estava no mesmo lugar, me olhando.
Eu não sei dizer o que aconteceu, nem como, mais tudo o que eu sei é que de repente, apareceu um garotinho de 13 anos na minha frente. Sem o boné roxo, mais sem dúvida, você de três anos atrás. Me olhou com aquele olhar que costumava me mandar quando alguma coisa incomodava. Eu só ouvi duas palavras.
- Me desculpe.
E então eu acordei.
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