Ás vezes a vida mete-nos à frente um monte de coisas
possíveis, desde sonhos, a decisões importantes, a caminhos mais longos que nos
dão uma maior bagagem. Nessa encruzilhada que ontem nos parecia ter uma
resposta consistente e palpável, se é que que podemos medir a densidade das
palavras, hoje trata-se de um beco de emoções que teremos de atravessar-. Hoje
com a minha mala bem cheia, de todas aquelas experiências que só alguns olhos
captam, e só alguns corações vivem, parto na esperança de me encontrar do outro
lado do beco, de encontrar o eu. Será uma luta desigual, não podemos querer
descobrir quem somos, no inicio da viagem, mas é uma combate de forças. Custa-me
me sentir que já me descobri e no entanto faltar-me algo, por isso caminharei. Parada
deixou de resultar, fico perdida rapidamente nos meus pensamentos, nas minhas
histórias imaginadas, que em criança fluíam com as brincadeiras, e agora se
prendem e entrelaçam como amarras que me impedem de avançar. Sonho porque
nesses sonhos solares, consigo comandar o rumo das coisas, e criar os finais
que eu própria sentir serem os certos. Assusta-me a falta de controlo, que por
mais peso que traga na minha bagagem, todos os quilos de vida não serão nunca
suficientes para combater o inesperado. O inesperado fará parte do caminho pelo
túnel das emoções. Quando pensamos estar livres do passado ele volta constantemente
mesmo que não se pense, ele arranja maneira de como uma hera, trepar o muro no
nosso coração e encher-nos de dúvidas, o passado aquele passado de criança
pequena que tanto tenta sobrepor-se a mim, numa de aviso, ou quem sabe de
finalmente verdadeiras respostas. Tenho de o enfrentar, mas não sei bem de que
lado lutar, quem disse que tudo o que irei ver, será construtivo, enriquecedor,
libertador? A ânsia que me persegue diz-me que será avassalador, doloroso e
talvez destrutivo. E no entanto será que mesmo sendo negro não me libertará? Tantos
quilos de bagagem que não sei do que se trata, quilos e quilos de coisas que
sinto sem razão para tal, tanto bem e tanto medo do mal. O túnel das emoções
avisa que precisarei de mantimentos, coisas no fundo da mala, e começo a
questionar-me, se virei bem na encruzilhada. A descoberta do ser, levará ao
descoberto histórias enterradas, ficarei eu acabada?
Friday, April 27, 2012
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
O eu
Nem sempre digo as coisas da melhor maneira, não gosto de ouvir um não, sou resmungona irritante e perco-me facilmente em divagações sobre o porquê disto e daquilo, sobre a vida e sobre os momentos que muitas vezes ficam por explicar.
Sou rebelde no sentido puro da palavra, não gosto de regras. Repugno a rotina e sou amante do espontâneo do real e também do sonho. Sou pouco e às vezes quase nada em comparação com o que penso e sinto. A matéria, isto que vocês vêm nada é que eu não saiba ignorar, ultrapassar. Rendo-me ao abraço de um desconhecido e firo-me facilmente com as palavras de um amigo.
Sou inconstante incoerente e muitas vezes sentimental, choro e torno a chorar como quisesse competir com os oceanos. Grito também, e quando as lágrimas e os gritos se esgotam rio à gargalhada como se a razão do choro se apagasse na sonoridade da alegria. Sou poeta de papel nas horas vagas e poeta de coração na vida. Vejo beleza onde as pessoas vêem objectos e figuras, vejo o belo no escuro, e o escuro mais belo de sempre, quando fecho os olhos e posso sonhar.
Quero tudo e mais alguma coisa, não de concreto mas feito de fantasias e desejos, quero ser mais e mais e nem sempre o mais se alcança. Não sou insatisfeita, antes pelo contrário, as pequenas alegrias como de uma manhã de sol são mais que suficientes para me por a sorrir. Gosto de observar as pessoas, de as entender, gosto de tocar, sentir. Apesar de estar sempre a falar, sempre achei que não é com a boca que realmente se fala. Eu falo com as mãos, com olhos, com o corpo.
Nunca fui de me agarrar, odeio sentir-me presa. Gosto da liberdade do querer e fazer, da independência dos actos não pensados, da surpresa, da libertação. Gosto da fuga, dos momentos que queremos que durem e passam a correr enquanto nós os tentamos agarrar. Gosto de amar, gosto mas sem limites, sem regras, sem pensamento. Gosto de amar mesmo se não o for de volta. Gosto do cheiro da luz da presença do amor. Mas quando me prendem eu fujo.
Sou simplesmente assim, cheia de camadas que se sobrepõem indefinidamente. Cheia de marcos e marcas, e ainda espaços por escrever. Fecho-me e abro-me tantas vezes quanto o bater de umas asas. Sou inquieta e raramente permaneço. Sou explosão e logo a seguir aquela paz que ninguém compreende.
Acima de tudo, sou real, estou aqui e sempre estarei porque como já disse pretendo permanecer. Não tentem compreender-me, não tentem estudar-me, decifrar-me, levem-me com vocês e eu serei sempre o melhor de mim, porque vos amo.
Sou rebelde no sentido puro da palavra, não gosto de regras. Repugno a rotina e sou amante do espontâneo do real e também do sonho. Sou pouco e às vezes quase nada em comparação com o que penso e sinto. A matéria, isto que vocês vêm nada é que eu não saiba ignorar, ultrapassar. Rendo-me ao abraço de um desconhecido e firo-me facilmente com as palavras de um amigo.
Sou inconstante incoerente e muitas vezes sentimental, choro e torno a chorar como quisesse competir com os oceanos. Grito também, e quando as lágrimas e os gritos se esgotam rio à gargalhada como se a razão do choro se apagasse na sonoridade da alegria. Sou poeta de papel nas horas vagas e poeta de coração na vida. Vejo beleza onde as pessoas vêem objectos e figuras, vejo o belo no escuro, e o escuro mais belo de sempre, quando fecho os olhos e posso sonhar.
Quero tudo e mais alguma coisa, não de concreto mas feito de fantasias e desejos, quero ser mais e mais e nem sempre o mais se alcança. Não sou insatisfeita, antes pelo contrário, as pequenas alegrias como de uma manhã de sol são mais que suficientes para me por a sorrir. Gosto de observar as pessoas, de as entender, gosto de tocar, sentir. Apesar de estar sempre a falar, sempre achei que não é com a boca que realmente se fala. Eu falo com as mãos, com olhos, com o corpo.
Nunca fui de me agarrar, odeio sentir-me presa. Gosto da liberdade do querer e fazer, da independência dos actos não pensados, da surpresa, da libertação. Gosto da fuga, dos momentos que queremos que durem e passam a correr enquanto nós os tentamos agarrar. Gosto de amar, gosto mas sem limites, sem regras, sem pensamento. Gosto de amar mesmo se não o for de volta. Gosto do cheiro da luz da presença do amor. Mas quando me prendem eu fujo.
Sou simplesmente assim, cheia de camadas que se sobrepõem indefinidamente. Cheia de marcos e marcas, e ainda espaços por escrever. Fecho-me e abro-me tantas vezes quanto o bater de umas asas. Sou inquieta e raramente permaneço. Sou explosão e logo a seguir aquela paz que ninguém compreende.
Acima de tudo, sou real, estou aqui e sempre estarei porque como já disse pretendo permanecer. Não tentem compreender-me, não tentem estudar-me, decifrar-me, levem-me com vocês e eu serei sempre o melhor de mim, porque vos amo.
...
Procurei o sol.
Nele vieram dias, momentos e emoções felizes, veio a esperança, a verdadeira simplicidade das situações inexplicáveis que nos prendem apenas àquele presente. Queria tudo e o sol cumpria cada um dos meus desejos, era fácil, bastava-lhe brilhar e logo os meus olhos respondiam a cada reflexo, a cada movimento de rotação da terra, nós rodávamos também. Numa roda de desejos, corpo contra corpo, mente contra mente, coração sobre coração, nisso ambos sabíamos ser um para o outro, um brilho não apagava o outro, apesar da distância inconclusiva que nos separava, havia um ponto em que nos podíamos encontrar sempre, todos os dias no pico da madrugada e antes do anoitecer, ele descia à Terra e eu corria ao seu encontro livre, espontaneamente e sem hesitar.
Não pensávamos no futuro. Para quê fazê-lo? Havia apenas a certeza de que todos ”os nasceres e pores” do dia bastavam, eram todos momentos, os únicos momentos em que não duvidávamos de nada
Mas a noite sempre vinha.
E eu ficava sozinha, vinha o escuro e as dúvidas e a incoerência de pensamentos que me faziam, não ter certezas sobre o sol. Tão distante, tão perto e no fundo tão longe. Uma barreira física e imortal de razões nos separavam de tudo aquilo que nos unia em todas aquelas alturas do dia. Era noite, e na escuridão senti-me só pela primeira vez. A Lua tentava fazer-me companhia, aguentar-se comigo até ao amanhecer. Mas eu apenas fechava os olhos, porque a melhor maneira de enfrentar a escuridão, era através do meu querer, torná-la total.
Os dias e as noites seguiam-se, e os o amanheceres eram tão ou menos suficientes, que cada vez que a noite chegava. Os desejos eram substituídos pela necessidade de ter, pelo precisar de cada sensação fora da horas, viver cada emoção de cada vez tornou se doloroso, ter o sol mas não ter deixou de ser suficiente.
Mas quem podia imaginar algo diferente? O Sol, só no seu nome era tudo menos de alguém, era o brilho para todos e sempre seria assim, e eu poderia sempre amá-lo poderia sempre olhá-lo todos os dias, vê-lo e senti-lo como toda a gente o sentia, e o calor bastava. O Sol nunca poderia ser meu, e eu nunca poderia querer ser dele.
O Sol apenas se entregava à Lua, de anos a anos, noite e dia, um eclipse único, uma entrega total.
Nele vieram dias, momentos e emoções felizes, veio a esperança, a verdadeira simplicidade das situações inexplicáveis que nos prendem apenas àquele presente. Queria tudo e o sol cumpria cada um dos meus desejos, era fácil, bastava-lhe brilhar e logo os meus olhos respondiam a cada reflexo, a cada movimento de rotação da terra, nós rodávamos também. Numa roda de desejos, corpo contra corpo, mente contra mente, coração sobre coração, nisso ambos sabíamos ser um para o outro, um brilho não apagava o outro, apesar da distância inconclusiva que nos separava, havia um ponto em que nos podíamos encontrar sempre, todos os dias no pico da madrugada e antes do anoitecer, ele descia à Terra e eu corria ao seu encontro livre, espontaneamente e sem hesitar.
Não pensávamos no futuro. Para quê fazê-lo? Havia apenas a certeza de que todos ”os nasceres e pores” do dia bastavam, eram todos momentos, os únicos momentos em que não duvidávamos de nada
Mas a noite sempre vinha.
E eu ficava sozinha, vinha o escuro e as dúvidas e a incoerência de pensamentos que me faziam, não ter certezas sobre o sol. Tão distante, tão perto e no fundo tão longe. Uma barreira física e imortal de razões nos separavam de tudo aquilo que nos unia em todas aquelas alturas do dia. Era noite, e na escuridão senti-me só pela primeira vez. A Lua tentava fazer-me companhia, aguentar-se comigo até ao amanhecer. Mas eu apenas fechava os olhos, porque a melhor maneira de enfrentar a escuridão, era através do meu querer, torná-la total.
Os dias e as noites seguiam-se, e os o amanheceres eram tão ou menos suficientes, que cada vez que a noite chegava. Os desejos eram substituídos pela necessidade de ter, pelo precisar de cada sensação fora da horas, viver cada emoção de cada vez tornou se doloroso, ter o sol mas não ter deixou de ser suficiente.
Mas quem podia imaginar algo diferente? O Sol, só no seu nome era tudo menos de alguém, era o brilho para todos e sempre seria assim, e eu poderia sempre amá-lo poderia sempre olhá-lo todos os dias, vê-lo e senti-lo como toda a gente o sentia, e o calor bastava. O Sol nunca poderia ser meu, e eu nunca poderia querer ser dele.
O Sol apenas se entregava à Lua, de anos a anos, noite e dia, um eclipse único, uma entrega total.
Um rosto na estação
7h30 e mais uma manhã de loucura nos comboios de Lisboa, não vejo rostos, vejo caras removidas de expressão, marcadas pela rotina, pela eterna insatisfação de um dia-a-dia que se prolonga e se perde na brisa gélida que traz um novo amanhecer.
É um novo dia, e com este não vieram coisas novas, nem emoções, nem projectos nem a satisfação de um simples sorriso. Na estação milhares de pessoas se cruzam alheias ao que as rodeia, como máquinas percorrem um caminho que já não conhecem, que decoraram na esperança de lembrar e esquecer se assim o desejarem. Já não se conhecem, não têm espaço para o fazer, perdidas em memórias vazias, sem substância, sem verdadeiro conteúdo. Prisioneiros do seu próprio silêncio.
O barulho é imenso, e no entanto nada se diz. As palavras memorizadas forçam a sua saída e no entanto soam a pouco.
Faltam 15 dias para o Natal, e as pessoas estão vestidas de preto. A televisão preenchida de anúncios, apelando ao consumismo e ignorando a essência da ocasião, não é mais do que um espelho da estação dos comboios. Em que ponto da nossa história deixámos de querer saber?
As ruas de Lisboa enchem-se de luzes e cantos se ouvem, mascarando os rostos, inventando uma alegria à muito esquecido.
Em cada esquina um canto, em cada canto um rosto, um verdadeiro rosto suplicando por uma esmola, pedindo ajuda. Mas as caras não respondem, submersas no seu mundo da estação dos comboios, esquecendo-se de si mesmos, dos outros, e do quanto eles também, necessitam de ajuda.
É um novo dia, e com este não vieram coisas novas, nem emoções, nem projectos nem a satisfação de um simples sorriso. Na estação milhares de pessoas se cruzam alheias ao que as rodeia, como máquinas percorrem um caminho que já não conhecem, que decoraram na esperança de lembrar e esquecer se assim o desejarem. Já não se conhecem, não têm espaço para o fazer, perdidas em memórias vazias, sem substância, sem verdadeiro conteúdo. Prisioneiros do seu próprio silêncio.
O barulho é imenso, e no entanto nada se diz. As palavras memorizadas forçam a sua saída e no entanto soam a pouco.
Faltam 15 dias para o Natal, e as pessoas estão vestidas de preto. A televisão preenchida de anúncios, apelando ao consumismo e ignorando a essência da ocasião, não é mais do que um espelho da estação dos comboios. Em que ponto da nossa história deixámos de querer saber?
As ruas de Lisboa enchem-se de luzes e cantos se ouvem, mascarando os rostos, inventando uma alegria à muito esquecido.
Em cada esquina um canto, em cada canto um rosto, um verdadeiro rosto suplicando por uma esmola, pedindo ajuda. Mas as caras não respondem, submersas no seu mundo da estação dos comboios, esquecendo-se de si mesmos, dos outros, e do quanto eles também, necessitam de ajuda.
Friday, December 3, 2010
When Silence Comes
Once upon a time there was a girl, who fell in love with a boy, he brought her pain, he brought her shame. She was naked, filled with sorrow, trapped in her turtle's shell.
Time passed and she grew stronger, she kept herself from feeling anything any longer.
Strange days arrived, she promissed to her friends never to fall in love again, she flew from every boy, stood away from every date. She was happy, she was kind, she had friends she wanted to fly. Big dreams moved her foward, big heart gave her peace, but where was love?
Part of her wanted it all, great love, a bunch of kids, the other part was too hurt to accept even the possibility of feeling anything close to passion, to fire.
She looked arround and felt horribly alone, everyone was in love everyone could go home to someone. But she couldn't, she wouldn't, she was scared. And soon she forgot all about love.
So many people kept trying to remind her, but no one was capable to awake that part of her heart, "it was safer this way" she thought.
Safe or not silence came.
It was cold,, restless, and it pulled her away from the world, cause love was to strong for her to ignore, so silence she prefered and stoped caring anymore.
Then he came, with his silly walk, and fast talk, he put her in her place, and there was no grace about him, he was careless of what would come next, living the moment, facing the fear, she tried stopping love but it was to late, and he was to near. She fell and got up, stood in front of him, looked him in the eyes, and she felt powerless. She knew from that moment on that the fight was over, love had won. She was still scared, but also hoppeful, she dreamed a new dream, and ther was love, and dates, and friendship, there was him and that was simply enough.~
He came, and took the silence away.
Time passed and she grew stronger, she kept herself from feeling anything any longer.
Strange days arrived, she promissed to her friends never to fall in love again, she flew from every boy, stood away from every date. She was happy, she was kind, she had friends she wanted to fly. Big dreams moved her foward, big heart gave her peace, but where was love?
Part of her wanted it all, great love, a bunch of kids, the other part was too hurt to accept even the possibility of feeling anything close to passion, to fire.
She looked arround and felt horribly alone, everyone was in love everyone could go home to someone. But she couldn't, she wouldn't, she was scared. And soon she forgot all about love.
So many people kept trying to remind her, but no one was capable to awake that part of her heart, "it was safer this way" she thought.
Safe or not silence came.
It was cold,, restless, and it pulled her away from the world, cause love was to strong for her to ignore, so silence she prefered and stoped caring anymore.
Then he came, with his silly walk, and fast talk, he put her in her place, and there was no grace about him, he was careless of what would come next, living the moment, facing the fear, she tried stopping love but it was to late, and he was to near. She fell and got up, stood in front of him, looked him in the eyes, and she felt powerless. She knew from that moment on that the fight was over, love had won. She was still scared, but also hoppeful, she dreamed a new dream, and ther was love, and dates, and friendship, there was him and that was simply enough.~
He came, and took the silence away.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Another chance
Who hasn’t felt crazy about someone, that from the beginning you knew you couldn’t ever have? I guess we all love the thrill of the chase, and I thought for sometime that I could look away from love, and just feel the fire and the adrenaline of wanting and desiring a boy just for the game, for a moment witch lasted about an hour, I thought that I could get away with being a player, for the excitement of making people fall for me though I was not in love with them.
The truth is that I was foolish enough to think, that I could make myself, the girl who always falls in love with the wrong kind of players, become one of them. Why would I ever want to change you may ask: I was tired of being played.
Did I want revenge? Yeah, at the beginning I thought that was it, but now I know that I just didn’t want to feel that everything that had happen was my fault, that I wasn’t good enough.
Well, I was.
I’ve always believed in fairytales, although I haven’t experienced one, I just have a need to believe in all those “happy ever afters”. After feeling the pain of a broken heart, I know that all the glue in the world can’t erase what I had felt in that hot summer day, but I could accept the pain and move forward, cause I never stopped wondering what would come next, and I knew I had to think that what ever that was, it resumed itself to another test.
I passed it, with distinction, and I knew there wasn’t any other way, so even when I felt like a storm was forming all around, when everybody was afraid of talking about it out loud, I knew it had nothing to do with me, I was at peace.
So now, when someone asks me, If I’m alright, I just nod, smile and say: I have been for a while now.
The only game I’ll ever play in a world of players, is the game where I always win, the game of falling in love, never play for something in between. Sometimes a broken hearted girl is just another person with the chance of falling in love once more.
The truth is that I was foolish enough to think, that I could make myself, the girl who always falls in love with the wrong kind of players, become one of them. Why would I ever want to change you may ask: I was tired of being played.
Did I want revenge? Yeah, at the beginning I thought that was it, but now I know that I just didn’t want to feel that everything that had happen was my fault, that I wasn’t good enough.
Well, I was.
I’ve always believed in fairytales, although I haven’t experienced one, I just have a need to believe in all those “happy ever afters”. After feeling the pain of a broken heart, I know that all the glue in the world can’t erase what I had felt in that hot summer day, but I could accept the pain and move forward, cause I never stopped wondering what would come next, and I knew I had to think that what ever that was, it resumed itself to another test.
I passed it, with distinction, and I knew there wasn’t any other way, so even when I felt like a storm was forming all around, when everybody was afraid of talking about it out loud, I knew it had nothing to do with me, I was at peace.
So now, when someone asks me, If I’m alright, I just nod, smile and say: I have been for a while now.
The only game I’ll ever play in a world of players, is the game where I always win, the game of falling in love, never play for something in between. Sometimes a broken hearted girl is just another person with the chance of falling in love once more.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Love Actually
Yeah, we've all seen that movie a dozen times, and still I can't help but to smile and cry everytime.. Love is true, love happens, it comes slowly, while sparks are still flying and it arrives to stay. Can't let go, can't stop it from spreading, and soon enough we're all finding it hard to breath, we're all aching to live.. It hurts, it kills, it gives life, and all of a sudden it takes it away too.
I think I kind of stumbled into it.
It scared me at first, because I had never felt something so powerfull. Everything was different this time, nothing like the first one, this time all the love I felt was hidden, disguised as friendship, or even better, it grew out from a friendship to something that words can never explain. It was beautiful just because it felt like something that grew, and became stronger as the time passed and as we got to know each other. Wrong, right, never taught of that, not for a second, I just lived it. Wrong move.
He was perfect. I'm not talking about his looks, he was cute, with eyes that could kill me in a second, but that was not it. He was, and still is one of the most beautiful persons I know, on the inside. He's kind, fun to have arround, always enjoying life. Hardworker, peaceful, brave and most of all his heart is priceless. I knew I had found the only guy who could really fufill me, and for a second that felt like an eternity I was happy.. Me! Happy! Even I know how awkard those two words look together. I fell into his arms, and believed it was forever. I wasn't thinking about the future, but forever seemed to fit my perfect fantasy. Then again, wrong thinking..
It wasn't perfect, it wasn't true, it had nothing to do with forever.. I wasn't faking, but aparently, he was trying to forget someone and realised we were a mistake. It was so clichê, that I couldn't believe it. I could see the movie clip rolling, but I was standing still, facing the facts, the truth that all the actors seemed to already know.. Maybe I should've read the script.
Now I just wish I could go back, and keep myself from feeling, because I just don't know how to stop, the movie is ending, and he'll probably have his happy ending, but what about me? Is there a happy something ine the end of my story?
Can't possibly know, so I'll let the movie rolle, the leading man stay with his girl, and me, I'll stand behind the scenes, playing the extra on the love story of the man of my dreams.
I think I kind of stumbled into it.
It scared me at first, because I had never felt something so powerfull. Everything was different this time, nothing like the first one, this time all the love I felt was hidden, disguised as friendship, or even better, it grew out from a friendship to something that words can never explain. It was beautiful just because it felt like something that grew, and became stronger as the time passed and as we got to know each other. Wrong, right, never taught of that, not for a second, I just lived it. Wrong move.
He was perfect. I'm not talking about his looks, he was cute, with eyes that could kill me in a second, but that was not it. He was, and still is one of the most beautiful persons I know, on the inside. He's kind, fun to have arround, always enjoying life. Hardworker, peaceful, brave and most of all his heart is priceless. I knew I had found the only guy who could really fufill me, and for a second that felt like an eternity I was happy.. Me! Happy! Even I know how awkard those two words look together. I fell into his arms, and believed it was forever. I wasn't thinking about the future, but forever seemed to fit my perfect fantasy. Then again, wrong thinking..
It wasn't perfect, it wasn't true, it had nothing to do with forever.. I wasn't faking, but aparently, he was trying to forget someone and realised we were a mistake. It was so clichê, that I couldn't believe it. I could see the movie clip rolling, but I was standing still, facing the facts, the truth that all the actors seemed to already know.. Maybe I should've read the script.
Now I just wish I could go back, and keep myself from feeling, because I just don't know how to stop, the movie is ending, and he'll probably have his happy ending, but what about me? Is there a happy something ine the end of my story?
Can't possibly know, so I'll let the movie rolle, the leading man stay with his girl, and me, I'll stand behind the scenes, playing the extra on the love story of the man of my dreams.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
A Touch of Truth
Everyone knows I only write when I'm sad, everyone knows there's only one person capable of making me mad. I haven't written in months, because I believe there are some feelings, some stories that aren't meant to be told.
My story is the same old one: girl falls for the wrong guy believing he's the right one, he shows her all the wonders in the world, takes her to fly in his magic carpet, tells her verything about Upendi, buys her the perfect crystal shoes, takes her to the ball in his white horse.. And leaves her in the midle of the final dance for the much prettier Cinderella..
The end is close, and as much as I wanted to delay this moment, I knew there could never be a happy ending, or at least not one that involved "and they lived happily ever after". I finaly discovered everything he tried to hide, all his dirt, and it hurt. I believed in someone that wasn't real, I believed in him for everything he made me feel, but he also taught me better, he taught me to see behind his lies, he taught me to stop believing in every try. I told him everything he wasn't expecting to hear, and for the first time I wasn't the one filled up with fear.. I knew I was the only person who could see him for what he really was, and from that moment on everything got worse. I don't know if it's regret, shame or some other feeling with no name, but our eyes don't find each other anymore, our conversations are nothing like before, and we don't walk towards each other, more, less, nothing, everything, how come there is never a midle term for us?
While writing the las paragraph I was thinking about what my conclusion should be, and I got to a fantastic finding: I'm clueless. All this time I thought that I knew everything that was going on, I could put all my feeling into paper, but now everything seems stuck, between what I should be saying, what I feel, and all that I do. All I wanted was to make him come true, turn him into what I thought he should've been for me, but then he wouldn't be him, and this wouldn't be called "a love story with an uncommon ending for the girld that sould've realize that the guy didn't belong to her fairytale".
It took one hour to write this, usually it takes fifteen minutes, which means that he still owns so much of my time, he's still with me although he was never mine.
My story is the same old one: girl falls for the wrong guy believing he's the right one, he shows her all the wonders in the world, takes her to fly in his magic carpet, tells her verything about Upendi, buys her the perfect crystal shoes, takes her to the ball in his white horse.. And leaves her in the midle of the final dance for the much prettier Cinderella..
The end is close, and as much as I wanted to delay this moment, I knew there could never be a happy ending, or at least not one that involved "and they lived happily ever after". I finaly discovered everything he tried to hide, all his dirt, and it hurt. I believed in someone that wasn't real, I believed in him for everything he made me feel, but he also taught me better, he taught me to see behind his lies, he taught me to stop believing in every try. I told him everything he wasn't expecting to hear, and for the first time I wasn't the one filled up with fear.. I knew I was the only person who could see him for what he really was, and from that moment on everything got worse. I don't know if it's regret, shame or some other feeling with no name, but our eyes don't find each other anymore, our conversations are nothing like before, and we don't walk towards each other, more, less, nothing, everything, how come there is never a midle term for us?
While writing the las paragraph I was thinking about what my conclusion should be, and I got to a fantastic finding: I'm clueless. All this time I thought that I knew everything that was going on, I could put all my feeling into paper, but now everything seems stuck, between what I should be saying, what I feel, and all that I do. All I wanted was to make him come true, turn him into what I thought he should've been for me, but then he wouldn't be him, and this wouldn't be called "a love story with an uncommon ending for the girld that sould've realize that the guy didn't belong to her fairytale".
It took one hour to write this, usually it takes fifteen minutes, which means that he still owns so much of my time, he's still with me although he was never mine.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Make you mine
I wake up every morning,
Yet prisoner of my dreams of you,
When walking to school I always pray,
That somehow they'll come true..
You arrive,
Unaware of the way you shine,
Careless of how you always look so fine...
You walk as if you own the place,
So perfectly that you make me want to look away,
Hoping you won't see the imperfections of my face.
But I still stop,
Stare,
And wait,
With the ilusion that you'll look at me today...
Somehow in the middle of those thoughts,
My eyes meet yours,
And it always makes me guess,
Is it true or just an accident in all that mess?
I never have enough time to get an answer,
You move towards me like a perfect dancer,
You hug me like you've known me for a long time,
The only thing you don't know,
Is that I would give anything to make you mine ...
Yet prisoner of my dreams of you,
When walking to school I always pray,
That somehow they'll come true..
You arrive,
Unaware of the way you shine,
Careless of how you always look so fine...
You walk as if you own the place,
So perfectly that you make me want to look away,
Hoping you won't see the imperfections of my face.
But I still stop,
Stare,
And wait,
With the ilusion that you'll look at me today...
Somehow in the middle of those thoughts,
My eyes meet yours,
And it always makes me guess,
Is it true or just an accident in all that mess?
I never have enough time to get an answer,
You move towards me like a perfect dancer,
You hug me like you've known me for a long time,
The only thing you don't know,
Is that I would give anything to make you mine ...
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
We lost it
Oceans of fears,
A bucket full of tears,
Nothing more to say,
Not one thing keeping us this way..
You better close your eyes,
Cause everytime I'll pass by you
It's gonna hurt everything I won't do!
Cause there's all we are,
And all we we used to be,
And right now you're just keeping me from being free..
I look back and nothing's like before,
Everything's changed,
And now I'm here strong,
You're on top of the world and still so wrong..
I'm right were I'm supposed to me,
Down here,
Looking for all the pieces of me.
And while you're up there,
Enjoying the ride of your life,
I'll be watching you it's only fair..
Cause when it ends,
You'll look for me everywhere,
And there won't be no one to stare!
"We were meant to be, supposed to be, but we lost it"
A bucket full of tears,
Nothing more to say,
Not one thing keeping us this way..
You better close your eyes,
Cause everytime I'll pass by you
It's gonna hurt everything I won't do!
Cause there's all we are,
And all we we used to be,
And right now you're just keeping me from being free..
I look back and nothing's like before,
Everything's changed,
And now I'm here strong,
You're on top of the world and still so wrong..
I'm right were I'm supposed to me,
Down here,
Looking for all the pieces of me.
And while you're up there,
Enjoying the ride of your life,
I'll be watching you it's only fair..
Cause when it ends,
You'll look for me everywhere,
And there won't be no one to stare!
"We were meant to be, supposed to be, but we lost it"
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