Do me a favour

...
Well I'd crumble completely if you said "bye",
But then I did it anyway everytime you failed to reply.
I can still tell what it feels like to have your hands slide down my back
And your eyes, locked in mine...

I'm going back to 505...

[Baú] 3 de março de 2010

Não é por passares toda a vida a mentalizares-te que vais morrer que, na tua hora, vais aceitar melhor a Morte. Isso só vai fazer com que não aproveites a tua vida.

Também não é por te convenceres que todos te vão abandonar e que ninguém gosta verdadeiramente de ti que, um dia quando alguém revelar que não gosta de ti e te deixar, vais aceitar melhor esse facto e vais sofrer menos. Apenas vais sentir que não aproveitaste o resto do tempo com todos os outros que gostam de ti e, entretanto, afastaste-te. Há sempre quem não goste muito de nós; há sempre quem não nos veja como o seu melhor amigo. Mas enquanto não se reveralem, trata todos os que gostas como se eles também gostassem assim tanto de ti, pois esse será o caso de alguns (mesmo que não seja de todos). E eles vão ver que fazem mal em não gostar assim de ti.

[Baú] Algures por 2009

À procura de algo totalmente não relacionado, saltou-me ao caminho um conjunto de textos que escrevi no tempo da Maria Cachucha, mais precisamente no tempo em que escrevia algumas coisas bastante boas com alguma regularidade (e em que também não fazia muita coisa efectivamente para realizar o que quer que fosse; é um trade-off).

De qualquer maneira, pensei que, destes textos, dois ou três têm ideias realmente interessantes, à parte da escrita datada e menos "madura", e que valia a pena documentar. Ao fim e ao cabo, trata-se daquilo que eu sou, das peças que me definem quer eu tenha 15, 20 ou 25 anos ou mais; aquilo que nos torna melhores e nos incentiva deve ser sempre realçado.

Por isso ficam aqui duas peças saídas directamente do baú, com a respectiva data, directamente para o arquivo indelével da internet.

I am angry [also posted on reddit/r/offmychest]

I am angry. I am very angry. Oh, I'm so f* angry for everything, and you are just the beginning of it.

For years and years and since I can remember myself as a person, since I moved out of my confort space where I lived a peaceful and happy childhood, I have been tormented by this f* anger, always burning in my chest. And always for the same f* reason: being an outcast. People I had to turn to for socialization, the only ones around, always put me aside of their personal matters because I wasn't "cool". Because of this I tried to fit in, to be "normal", I even came to the point of wanting to be stupid like them because I could see they envied my having better grades. I grew accustomed to mirror the other person's attitude as an attempt to be someone they would like to hang around with. I was always helpful and kind whenever I felt confortable enough to speak, on the rare moments when I didn't feel like I would be despised or told to shut up. I got used to living in the shadow and to experience others' victories as my own, to be genuinely happy for them.

That's all a big, messy mountain of crap.

I always knew I wasn't worse than anyone else (from a moral point of view; each of us has virtues to be cherished and reasons to be loved for). That's why I was able to stand up, again and again, after mediocre people tried to push me to the ground. That's why I was able to regain some love for myself after seeing myself as nothing but a piece of meat because some pedo tried to have his way when I was eleven. That's why I mentally spit in all their faces and moved on to try and find people more like me, educated people that would have some more sense to them. It took me a while, but I found some of them. One is my best girl friend; another one is you.

You have no reason to know this but since you're not listening I'll tell you. Liking a person is both the holiest miracle I can hope for and the the most dreadful nightmare to me. Because I don't often find people I truly like, let aside even love, I hold on to them as hard as I can; no one wants to live alone. But also because of some other thing I can't seem to understand, these people almost never seem to reciprocate in the same manner; that is, liking me any better than the average friend. And that f* kills me, and it's been killing me for ages now. That's why I stayed with an emotionally disturbed and abusive boyfriend, my first and only to date: because it may have been obcession on his part, but it felt like love. "Felt" is the key word, because it's such a novelty to me, feeling such a strong emotion on the other part. You couldn't have known, of course, that because of him and the two "dates" I had after him I was left in such a despairing state of mind that I became depressed, and sought profissional help for something I had sworn to myself I could take care of: my well being and my choices.

And in the first moment when I was finally able, after a year a half of dark skies, rain and internal storms, to open my eyes again for the beauty outside and inside of me, I laid my eyes on you. You were plain. Only, you know, I was horny, like girls have a right to be sometimes. So I took a secong glance. And a third. And I listened. And I sat with you for four hours straight in the train listening to your fascinating stories of wildlife adeventures, scyfy-WWI books and conspiracy theories on Mars chocolates. I noticed you have amazing eyes, much like mine. I noticed we share an incredible amount of tastes. We talked a lot that weekend, you and I, even though there were other people. I wouldn't have needed all that vodka to lay on the bed beside you, trying to get closer and closer, as everyone else slept and you told me about the fantastic features of your smartphone (I'm assuming now you're phone is smarter than you). You don't know this, but I'm not a slut. I've wanted to be with you since that night because I feel something for you, and it's been a long while since that happened.

Now I did all I could to get your attention. You can imagine the flutter in my chest when I saw you had messaged me first in facebook (wow, feeling so 15yo all of a sudden). I felt great when you suggested we go out (only I couldn't then, work still has to be done and you can't have that much importance in my life but, oh, what am I saying? It appears you do now), and I felt even better when you accepted my invitation and we were together for 10hours straight... I never invite people out. And I sure as hell never intended to be the one leaving you with a token of me (that little flower I carried around all day). But I did, because I wanted you to notice me. Because I felt like I was worth knowing, and I knew that you'd like me if you knew me. I still do, and that's why I haven't given up, even after you've shown no regret in having to decline my invitation for a camping trip with the rest of the guys, which I was looking forward to so very much.

I still try to find a way to talk to you and ask you out, because I know you're so different in facebook than you are in real life (and because, like me, you're not able to lie for such a petty thing as this), but god f* damn it I haven't got a clue what the f* is going on here. I am angry because you don't give me any time to express myself, but you're still a nice guy. I'm angry because I feel like I have no reason to be angry at you and you still f* me up completely! I don't want to go back to my anxiety pills but at this rate I will have to. F, man... Just a f little chance, an opening. I'm worthy.
I'm also angry because you didn't eat the pie I baked for the rehearsal the other day, but I'll let that go if you prove worthy of it.


For all of you thinking of commenting along the lines of «just face it girl, he's not into you, you have to move on, blah blah blah»: not really the kind of support I'm looking for. Actually, I'm not even sure I'm looking for support. I just posted this because I was f* tired of all this stuff in my chest, all the frustration and despair and pain and loneliness, and it seems seeing a psychologist isn't helping as much as I hoped. So that's it Reddit. Do you want some pie?

Please please please let me get what I want

...

Take all the dogs in the world with you
And all the hapiness too.
Leave only misery and despair
So I'll have everything to compare
The old days and the ones I'll get anew.

Une petite pièce

"Qu'est-ce que vous voulez?"
Je ne sais pas que je veux.
Je veux toi.
Et c'est tout.

A letter I would write

       Dear Sexy Spartan (a.k.a. the Batman)

Life's been good. Actually, more than that, life's been very good, considering I have one. 
Saying it like this may seem redundant, like it doesn't make any sense -- why would I be writing, or rather how, if I weren't alive? But there's a tricky question. You see, I've found one can still do a lot of living things and yet be so separated from the living world like heaven from the sea. It is the strangest feeling in the world: eating, breathing, speaking, with not so much as a gust of wind stirring inside. All will, all aspiration, all desire, dead. And only one question remaining: how to light up a candle that's been blown out, without a source of fire, with no flame? So this is where I was a couple of moons ago, until something unexpected happened.

Now you may not believe this story, as I think many wouldn't, but I trust you have the open-mindedness it takes to reach that point somewhere inside our minds, between the dreamy state and the stargazing, where everything is possible. If you choose to believe, I'll ask you to wake up that childish spirit you usually wear so gracefully and sit with him by the window, because this story begins in the skies. It begins at the place where everything, every molecule, avery atom and yes, every one of the greatest dreams, started.

There was a star, you know. This really bright, always glistening star. And it was mine. Not that I had any claim over it or anything, I just had always had the feeling that it looked brighter to me than to anyone else. And like all the stuff we own, it would go missing sometimes. I couldn't find it every day, sometimes I could go for weeks without looking at it; even if I looked very carefully it was nowhere to be seen. But it was alright since I knew, just knew it, that it was my star, my own personal little light in the universe and it would still be there when I really needed, even if I couldn't see it. 
Until the day there was a shower... A metheor shower, they call it. I didn't make a wish then; I usually did, and then it would come back to me in such a distorted form I almost wished I hadn't called for it. This time, like I said, it was different. There was nothing I wanted to ask for, nothing particularly strong worth wishing. And that was when I noticed, with a sinking feeling in my chest, that my star had fallen. It had plummeted through the sky and crashed down on Earth, somewhere distant where I couldn't reach it. I had lost my star, my guidance in the skies, the one that would always be there. In that moment, I was completely and cosmically alone. Only some time later did I think that maybe I had gotten it all wrong. Maybe my star hadn't crashed down; maybe it had landed. Fallen through the air and landed softly at the sea shore, or at a grass field, or maybe even at a big city. There was just no way of knowing where it could have been. At this moment, though there was something lightening up inside me already, I had no idea of just how close my star had landed, or how much it still shone.

By now, you're probably wondering what does a shooting star have to do with the state of despair and (I think) almost depression I was in before, so I'll try and quicky get to the point where it should start making some sense. 

Let's skip to a couple of days later, specifically to the day when I first saw my star. Yes, that's right: I saw it. At first, it was just a flicker, I almost didn't recognize it. But then I managed to get a proper look and saw it flashing in my direction... A fixed point in space and time radiating tremendous amounts of energy towards me... No, not just me. That tiny point on the surface of the Earth was the epicenter of something much bigger, something I cannot understand entirely even today. I know one thing, though, today: that from that moment, that infinitesimal flicker of light brought my flame back to life.
Astronomers say that stars are the birthplace of the universe; that, from them, everything was created, everything was born. I felt as if a starlight had made me reborn. After what felt like centuries of darkness, devoid of feeling, taste, sound or colour, I was revived like a coal touched by the wind. At the beginning, I could still not see what was ahead, what way should I turn, but I felt that I would find a path. I felt there was more than blood running through my veins now, that there was a little life too, and the precursor of something I would later find to be hope. Above all, I knew enough about myself to be certain I wouldn't let something so precious slip through my fingers again.
So far, I haven't. It hasn't always been peachy, let's face it. I could have backed down a million times between then and now. Only that flicker of light I saw, that positive energy, that gravity I felt, it wouldn't let me forgive myself for not trying, for not insisting. It's in my name, after all, isn't it? You said it: Battle. A name, an action and an order. Because I know that light, heat, it's just energy; it doesn't pick you up from the ground. But it makes you want to do it, gives you strength, something to focus on. Most of the time, that's all you need: a point, a bearing. Like a star in the night sky. You may not even want to go in that direction, but at least you know which way is up and down, front and rear, North and South. And then everything else follows.

Today, I haven't reached a stage where I can definitely say "I'm proud for having done this and that", but I'm walking a path, making my way and learning to build another base, another level in my life. Most of all, I'm forever grateful to that wonderful starlight which, completely unknowing, grounded me on Earth again and reminded me why it's such a fantastic journey to live in the real world. I know it was my work that made it happen, but this inspiration made it possible.

Dear P. (you may have noticed how much I love some of yous aliases), in the event that you're reading this lame piece of bad writing (I've done worse, maybe it's not so bad), I have to say that it's been amazing to be able to talk to you. Your cheerful yet quiet manner of perceiving the world and living in it is simply contagious and I've found myself even liking dogs better (it's something you could be proud of if you know my history with them). I think we, as in people in general, would be a lot healthier with some more of that attitude of yours.
You've been a very good company indeed. The world you live in is simply fascinating and I'm so glad I can get to know some of it (always the curiosity!). Believe me when I say I'm feeling so fortunate to have met you! It makes me hope there's still some truly good people in the world.

So be well, be Happy, be you :) Always

xxx