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28 de julho de 2015

"Dois corpos, um quarto e a solidão para partilhar"

5 de julho de 2015

dear future self

Future is scary. And I'm afraid of every part of it.

So far, I've always knew how my life would be like. I had defined goals. I knew what kind of person I wanted to become. I knew how the next day would be like. I enjoyed being lost from time to time. I enjoyed being lost because I knew I would find myself afterwards. 
Now, I don't have an idea of what comes next.

Someone told me ''don't suffer so much. People like you don't end up in nothing''. And instead of feeling proud, I cried for 3 hours straight. I don't know anymore what is like to be ''someone like me''. I could easily be one of those who gives up into alchol. Or drugs, Or suicide. Sometimes I even imagine it. But there's always some kind of hidden force that pulls me back to reality. Like, next week there's a party I wanna go. Or, I wanna live to see my college years. I delay my death every day, even when we are all walking towards it at every step.

Future is scary, It's like something is coming - a change in the weather. A big storm. But you know, there's always a chance it is a bright sunny day.

''I can see clearly now, the rain is gone''...
You're a fighter boy, it's written in your existance
But you would give me the victory with no resistance.

I own the shiver your body offers
and without permission you walked into these troubled waters.

We were never ethical
but you have just the right amount of bad
to make a girl feel glad.

I can sense the way you see me
It's not real.
You think you love me,
but let me tell you,
you're wrong.

There's nothing here to like.
You won't find it searching through my bones.
You won't find it checking into my bruises.

You say my smile looks like vacations
and that my eyes take you to unknown destinations

I'm not a lottery ticket you can win.
I'm not a lucky strike that gazzes upon you
I'm not a wish you can ask in a shooting star
I'm a one way ticket in a destination you should be running from

And if this feeling has an end,
can you bring it?

And if this feeling has an end,
would you kill it?

I have loved you every since we first met. I have loved you with all I've got. I have loved you with whoever I was with. I have loved you with all these other boys and all these other tears and all these other drugs. It was always you.

Girls 1.0

You are a girl against one night stands because they make you feel you're an used object and you don't like when they touch your arm like they're entering a road where the final destination is your panties and that's okay.  

You're a girl and you're 18 and you're still a virgin and you want to save yourself to someone you love because you respect your body too much to let it be touched by hands that are not filled with love and caring and admirations towards it and that's okay. 

You're a girl that likes boys but doesn't like feelings, that likes sex but doesn't like attachment and prefers to be with someone every once in a while and feels comfortable in leaving when feelings arrive and that's okay.  

You are a girl that doesn't feel sexually attracted to anyone and doesn't see sex as a natural need and that's okay.  

You're a girl that met a guy in a bar and the chemistry between you two was undeniable and you went and had sex in the back seat of his Opel Astra while Ben Howard played in the radio and that's okay.  

You are okay. 

You'll be okay even after you think you wanted to go home with him only to regret it in the next morning and in the next month when he didn't return any of your calls.  

You'll be okay even after you explore your boundaries and find out what you dislike and what makes you feel comfortable and what makes your brain sored for one week for thinking about it so much.  

You'll be okay if you know deep down what you want and aren't willing to try to see if you'd change your mind.  

You'll be okay.  

You'll be okay even if you aren't any of these girls. 
You'll be okay if you are all this girls at once.  

None of this makes you 
slutty or 
easy or 
prude or 
cold blooded or 
a bitch or... 

None of this gives you a title. Sex isn't dirty, even when it is. Having several sexual partners is okay. Not wanting sex is okay. One night stands are okay. Last longing relationships are okay. Asexuality is okay. Experiences are okay.  

You cannot be defined by this. As long as you feel comfortable, do it. When you don't, please stop. If it's too late and you already regretted it, get over it. Forgive yourself. Heal. Be better. Discover.  
When you are okay with what you do, the only title they can give you is ''free''. 

28 de junho de 2015

Fool's gold

hopes and dreams are only hopes and dreams until you help them become your reality. i was hoping we would have changed with the times. somehow, some way kept up with the ripples and wrinkles in life, but it seems as though high tide has gotten the better of both you and i. and perhaps we were nothing but casualties in an unfair game of love and war; left to drift away at sea; sinking under the weight of our own shortcomings. set ablaze by our brethren like vikings.

 but i figured by now i would have been reborn, drifted somewhere ashore to start anew and love some more. i thought you would have hung up your jersey, quit doing bitches dirty. i thought you wouldn’t do to them all the things you’ve done to hurt me. war crimes for which you’re sure you’ll pay a price, in a distant reality not yet spawned. the approaching dawn tonight, three years too long. the final chord and the longest song ever recorded.

 let’s see. well that was my own fault, the hasteless night had me thinking crazy. how could have i have been so cruel to my baby? my foolish heart had my rationale in a half nelson from the start. who would have thought we’d have drifted so terribly far apart it’s united – we feel each other’s tessellations. how could we have been so shameless? mislabeled the nameless beauty that lingered in and around and all over our oneness. but that was then and i suppose this is now – but how?

 i’ve been jaded a shade so sea green i don’t even recognize my own reflection, don’t know the girl staring back at me – fuck, this is one hell of a lesson. i feel as though i’ve been dissected and laid out for everyone to see. oh captain, my captain, you’ve made such a fool of me. first maidy or lady, i would have never abandoned ship, but what you said went so… so be it. and so would went one long hard year you spent living rent free in my head, pirating my happiness. but i digress.

perhaps we’re in a time warp; perhaps i’ve gone mad; perhaps i’m drowning, but there’s no knowing. couldn’t tell you in which direction i am going. can’t distinguish the difference between sinking and floating. what’s a girl like me to do? do i ask for help or proudly struggle in deep waters?

 but maybe this is just what happens when captains abandon ship; maybe we deserve this ship; maybe we live as reminders in each other’s heads to never, not ever leave anyone for dead. for they will haunt you every last second of every last day. i’m tugboating a ghost ship with a crew so cruel they call themselves memories and they always fucking with me. and i try to ignore them but they come rushing, pouring inside my head. a constant reminder of the dead, whispering things to me that were left unsaid. the torment is ceaseless. my silent demons, my ailments, they’re help and i’m killing their captain who’s abandoned ship. is this, could it be my perpetual punishment? and yeah, i believe in second chances and advancements but these phantoms have got it out for me.

does it feel the same way on your end of the sea? can you sympathize with me? oh captain, my captain, do you still have an anchor? or are you too capsizing and diving into an ocean of emotions and compensating numbness with peculiar potions like your former first maidy? do we feel the same tug and pull from the same pale moon? do your tides rise and recede? does your crew, too, torment thee? we need some sort of way out. we need to find the lighthouse, a harbor where we can both dock these ships forever – forget about bad weather and the conditions of being who we once were.

MTV's Washington Heights

''more than friends, less than lovers''

23 de junho de 2015

E quando o sol se puser nos teus ombros outra vez,
E quando as estrelas te cantarem aos ouvidos outra vez,
E quando as tuas lágrimas caírem das nuvens outra vez,
E quando os teus segredos souberem a trovoadas,
E quando todas as palavras se misturarem como furacões,
Outra vez,

Vais lembrar-te que és feita de céu?