Dear God, must really know what he does.

Maybe heaven was an angel short,

or maybe the saints needed a blessing.

Today the world has a smile missing,

Less one flower that made it prettier.

But I am trully glad I got to see her,

And while she was in it, the world was a better place,

our lives were full of grace.

Rest in peace, my sweet friend. For you today I shed some tears, but in your memories smiles will always prevail. ‘Cause they are just like you, so sweet and beautiful (and because you always brought them with you, wherever you were).

God must be really wise, ’cause he takes away the ones that are gonna be missed the most,

but before that he give them to the world to show us how amazing life can be.

And all we can do is enjoy while they are around and admire them with all their joy,

and hope to meet them again when our time comes.

é um sorriso com uma lágrima,

Uma saudade, uma lembrança

É uma esperança sem perspectivas,

Sem nenhuma expectativa de realização.

(this post is inspired by this song and the things that went through my mind during my walk home)

Maybe I just wished to be a little more than a beautiful painting hanging on your wall of memories. Or maybe it is that I wanted you to be more than just a ghost of some feeling I’ve had.

Last night I was laughing so honestly, so naturally. And then I realized I was not thinking about you so far, I’ve realized I was so alive. But it did not feel wrong. You asked me to forgive you, and even though I don’t believe there is anything to be forgiven, I decided to do so. You have asked me to let go of you, ’cause you were no longer into me, you’re heart was so far away it would be impossible for me to reach. A good memory I’d become, you said to me.

You have asked for forgiven, and to forgive is (most times) to forget. So here we are, you are forgiven and it seems soon you’ll be forgotten, even if that is not what I wished it to be. But it is as it has to be. And I don’t think it makes that great a difference, since you have already forgotten me.

(Don’t wanna seek so I may find…and I have been so oftentimes finding things I don’t wanna see)

And now it seemed her voice was gone. For as much as she tried n sound would come out of her. There seemed to be no will or no effort for that. The music was also gone.

Just like sometime before her eyes had stopped seeing things they would picture in beautiful images. And before that her hands would stop tracing fine lines. Even before that she had lost all the words to her poetry. It seemed that each time one of them left a bit of her magic was gone.

She looked herself in the mirror, that spark in her eyes was not there anymore. It was not the first time. It would not be the last time, she knew it. It was just one more time. No one has ever died of lack of spark, she thought to herself. Actually this need for a spark was just some nonsense invented in the 16th or 17th century by someone who was trying to convince people that emotions mattered, she believed. And they did matter, but not that much.

Now she was standing before that tall aging wall. All the times before this one she had believed that the wall had fallen broken into pieces. Now she’d realized that it had always been there, strong and still. It had cracks and stains, scratches and names and all sort of marks, but it was there still. Looking closer into it, she realized that where some names used to be (those ones she thought had caused the wall to crumble) there were just missing paint, and she could see the grayish-white plaster from behind them. Some were bigger, some were deeper, depending on the importance she had given them. This new one was the smallest, and also the cutest, she thought.

For the first time she had decided there would be no drama, no hate or bad feelings. There was no need for it. There were tears for the first day, and then the mourning time was over and life was moving on. She caught herself thinking of all the good thinks that had happened, and she could only smile and be thankful for them. When a thought of pain for never having them again came close to her mind, she would just convince herself that it was great that they had been there, but they had to be gone for new things to come. It was always like this, one has to go for others to arrive.

Sometimes she would think on how she would miss all those talks and the way they made her smile. But then she just looked at all the other blank spaces on the wall and remembered that all of them had given her smiles, but she did not miss them after a while. After sometime they made no difference at all. She would just get used to not having it, and then it would be gone. There seemed to be nothing left to say.

She had decided not to talk about it anymore, even if she still thought of it, but when it happened she would just sweep the thought away. She knew things were just as important as she made them, and this time she was trying to give it just as much importance as she believed it could have.

Looking at the wall again she had decided it was time for a change. She had decided to repaint the missing parts, but not in the same color of the wall.She did not want to erase her past, she did not want to cover all the lessons learnt so far. She did not want to pretend that they had not been important as a part of her life so far. She cleaned the wall so that the paint would fix better, and started painting each hole in a different shade. By the end of the day the old wall looked like a garden, like a beautiful painting in an art gallery. She was pleased and decided it should always be like this, for every new missing piece there would always be a new color to remind her that every good thing that ends leaves some beauty behind.

Just wanted to tell you that your love has a price I can’t afford.

Just wanted you to know that your loving is just like a rope around my neck,

and that it’s grip is too tight.

Just wanted to tell you that I’m tired of trying to keep my balance,

and that I’m slipping off the edge.

But as I try to say it, the words keep choking in my throat while the tears fill up my eyes.

Just wanted you to know that I’m tired of chosing between who I am and who you like.

Lá se iam as tantas da manhã e ela ainda sentia o perfume em sua pele. Manter a atenção em mais um dia de trabalho parecia impossível, tudo o que ela conseguia desejar era o reencontro. Lá pela hora do café ela percebeu que estava sonhando acordada enquanto seus colegas tentavam conversar sobre qualquer assunto desinteressante. Nada mais ocupava a sua cabeça além daquela doce lembrança.

Na hora do almoço era como se suas mãos pudessem sentir o toque daquelas vestes. Seus olhos semicerrados não a permitiam ver mais nada. A realidade parecia deveras enfadonha comparada a recordação da  noite anterior, tudo o que ela desejava era poder voltar àquele aconchego agradável.

Lá pelo meio da tarde, em uma reunião morosa com seu chefe e equipe era como se algo a tirasse da cadeira. Cada vez mais ela desejava voltar para casa, a expectativa crescia dentro dela. Ela não conseguia mais controlar seus atos, os dedos tamborilavam na mesa, os olhos fugiam, os pé inquietos. Toda aquela agitação e o tempo parecia se arrastar. Sua mente mais uma vez vagava para aquele quarto.

No fim do expediente juntou suas coisas com ansiedade. Saiu correndo de forma atrapalhada, quase perdeu as chaves do carro. No trânsito seu humor oscilava entre a felicidade de estar voltando e a sensação de que nada se movia. Faltava pouco, mas não chegava nunca. De tão distraída quase bateu o carro, levou um xingão de alguns motoristas. Nada daquilo importava, agora ela estava mais perto a cada segundo daquilo que tinha esperado por todo o dia.

Entrou em casa, fechou a porta atrás de si e suspirou. Caminhou lentamente pela casa, tentando fazer o mínimo de barulho possível. Pelo caminho foi deixando bolsa, sapatos, meias, casacos, camisa e tudo que lhe parecia excessivo. Por fim soltou os cabelos e balançou a cabeça, finalmente se sentia confortável. Adentrou então o quarto e seu rosto se iluminou. Lá estava seu objeto de desejo, ali estavam todos os seus sonhos do dia, ao fim a espera tinha acabado. Ainda arrumado do mesmo jeito que ela se lembrava, como visto pela última vez ao sair. Ela se aproximou lentamente e tocou suavemente com os dedos, então puxou as cobertas e finalmente atendeu seu desejo de retomar a noite anterior. Ali estava ela, deitada confortavelmente em sua cama. Nada no mundo poderia ser mais satisfatório. Esparramou-se pelas cobertas, fechou os olhos e finalmente se entregou a seus sonhos.

(E se vocês queriam romance, deveriam ter buscado em outro lugar. Esse blog não tem espaço pra essas coisas! XD)

E no meio do turbilhão, as palavras sumiram.

No meio de todo aquele barulho existiu o silêncio. Um profundo silêncio externo, daqueles que só surgem quando o cérebro precisa repensar e analisar cada palavra antes de concluir que vale apena pronunciá-las. Existia sim muito a dizer, mas vontade nenhuma de realmente fazê-lo. Existia a dúvida sobre o efeito que estas palavras causariam. Existia o medo de reações exageradas e discursos precipitados. Existia a indecisão entre tentar acalmar a mente e colocar um fim a tudo ou continuar tentando por não ter certeza da realidade.

Tudo o que se passava pela mente nos últimos dias eram conclusões superficiais retiradas de coisas não vistas. Todas as suposições eram provenientes de um passado infeliz, aquela velha mania de tentar enquadrar todas as situações em outras já vividas. Em sua cabeça ecoavam aquelas palavras ditas há tanto tempo, e elas eram impostas como verdades absolutas. Mas nem mesmo ela acreditava em verdades absolutas. Era a falta de respostas que fazia com que ela titubeasse. As vezes elas vinham e eram um misto de corte e carinho aos olhos dela. Por vezes ela concluiu que deveria parar de tentar. E então percebeu que o tempo estava passado de pressa, mas que ainda assim não era tempo o suficiente pra concluir nada. Lembrou que não podia deduzir respostas por palavras não ditas, e nem entender silêncio como algo pessoal. Lembrou que as pessoas tinham seu próprio tempo, suas próprias vidas, problemas e preocupações, e que as vezes a ausência não queria dizer algo contra ela, mas que a vida estava seguindo seus próprios passos.

Por último ela aprendeu que não poderia enquadrar coisas excepcionais em atitudes corriqueiras. Aprendeu que elas não foram feitas para a banalidade do dia a dia, da rotina. As coisas especiais deveriam ser mantidas assim, elas não precisavam de cuidados intensivos nem de tanto zêlo, elas precisavam era de ar para respirar, de tempo para existir. Elas não eram para ser vividas todo dia, mas para serem lembradas para sempre.

Com uma última ponderada sobre tudo ela concluiu que as palavras tinham partido. Levado com elas toda aquela inquietação que só a impaciência traz. As coisas estavam voltando ao seu lugar. Ela não podia controlar as coisas especiais, então ela decidiu deixar que elas decidissem quando deveriam acontecer. E sem mais nenhuma palavra ela fechou aquela gaveta cheia de fotos, cartas e lembranças, esperando que algum dia ela pudesse ainda acrescentar algum novo item ali, mas sabendo que se não fosse possível já tinha coisas em abundância para relembrar.

Pass me one of those pills that make me blue and let’s just pretend that our lives are miserable in ways they never will be, and they never should be.

“Locked inside your head, do you realise the things you say never make sense? We could sit here and laugh, but we don’t know the half of it in your defense.”

I could just say I miss you, but that wouldn’t change anything, so I choose just to hear your words and hope that they really mean, that they could be. I just try to get the meanings out of it and leave all the poetry behind. That’s how it should sound.

I wish I could say it is not fair, but the truth is that it is just as fair as it can be.

My mind wonders through this empty windows. A pretty picture for a photograph, just as lifeless as a memory can look. Was it all worth the effort? for sure it was. And it was as real, as honest and as humble as it could have ever been.

“see the look on my face, i’m staying too long in one place. But every time I try to leave I afind I keep on stalling…”

And life seems still even though it is moving in its own natural pace. I cannot hurry time, even if everything inside tells me to run away. I should just accept this is reality and keep to it, but still my mind fades to other places.

“Do you remember that night when I had to play your angel saving your soul? Even though you were holding on tight part of you was taken by your demons below and with no more to lose you said you feel like a bruise on a beautiful body. And all the damage you do is so honest and true, I don’t wanna feel sorry for you.”

You tell me things but I can no longer trust if they’re true. I can no longer know if it is what it is or if it is just your mind see things where there is nothing. I miss you, I surely do. I knew I would from the day you told me you would leave. But I never knew it would be so hard to find you when I needed the most. Still I was there for you, and now I’m here, trying to learn and let go.

So much has changed, everything is still the same. This house, this walls, this brain that tries to bring me down when I know there is nothing wrong. This feeling that I don’t belong even when I know that I can’t leave any soon. I’m no longer a part of it, but I’m still here, and they ask me to be and to take part, even when I just want to be elsewhere.

And so to myself I turn, having nothing else to say to those who want to listen, but having a whole life to tell to those who are nowhere to be seen. I am nowhere to be found, but still I’m here waiting for your words, waiting for something to change, waiting for my trust to come back, or whatever time brings.

(“Take this bottle…and just walk away…” Even is I would rather just share a bottle with all of you.)

“…Now I see it in my visions that my eyes are seeing twice: once for every expectation and once for what I realise.”