Ex-amor*

 

… e eu, que não tenho por costume ouvir sambas, acabei hipnotizada por essa letra.

 

“Ex-amor…

Gostaria que tu soubesses

O quanto que eu sofri

Ao ter que me afastar de ti

Não chorei**

Como louca até sorri

Mas no fundo só eu sei das angústias que senti…

Sempre sonhamos com o mais eterno amor

Infelizmente, eu lamento, mas não deu

Nos desgastamos, transformando tudo em dor

Mas, mesmo assim, eu acredito que valeu

Quando a saudade bate forte

É envolvente

E eu me possuo, e é na sua intenção

Com a minha cuca naqueles momentos quentes

Em que se acelerava o meu coração…”

 

 

 

* Talvez tenha mudado um pouco o formato ou a roupagem, mas não o sentimento.

“What’s in a name? That, which we call a rose, by any other name, would smell as sweet” (William Shakespeare)

* * Me acabei em água e sal muitas vezes, na verdade, haha. Mas acho que, hoje em dia, apesar das ocasionais “recaídas” e bads (tipo a dessa semana), já posso dizer que estou melhor.

Anúncios

Muddy Waters

From time to time I ask myself if I’m broken beyond repair.

And I always get to the conclusion that I actually am — but, somehow, I still have some hope I’ll be able to live on. After all, I’m still “stuck” here, so I might as well live (or survive, at least).

Yeah; I’m still alive. I guess.

* * *

Last Friday we have lost someone we actually cared about.

A father, a husband, an uncle, a godfather, a friend, a brother, a brother-in-law, a teammate, a… funny how many things we can be, huh.

When death takes someone away, that is it. It hurts for those who stay, but not anymore for the person — if they actually had time to feel.

Despair may strike us — whether it is for a second or for the rest of our lives — , and, for a while, it seems like there’s no way to move on.

If we want to keep at least a little bit of our sanity and dignity, we may have to force ourselves; trying to keep good memories, or to remember the last time we spoke and had a good time… those seem like the best options. If it’s possible, I mean.

I talked to him on his birthday, and, even though I couldn’t make it to the party that was probably going on, I naturally (?!) thought I would still be able to see him.

Yet, exactly one month after, he left us. And I only understood that when I remembered when we last met; dinner and laughs, and now sobs. What a… shock.

At 3pm, that was it; the other faces on the tomb moved me, for different reasons. I wonder when I’ll (have to go there and) see his again.

He won’t come back; none of them will.

He will me missed by many.

I died a little (more) as well.

* * *

He traveled shortly after he forcedly had lunch with us, on my birthday.

And he only came back, also forcedly, after he realized things were too serious for still having hope (and I don’t mean just for that death).

I exploded; I was exhausted, after spending the whole night there, and after all his lies. Shortly after the funeral he traveled again.

I don’t remember when was the last time we have actually spoken or had a good time. There’s nothing to hold on to anymore.

And there’s no comeback from this as well.

Who will actually miss him?! I won’t; not anymore.

I died a lot as well.

* * *

“(…) I will ask you for mercy
I will come to you blind
What you’ll see is the worst me
Not the last of my kind

Oooo—o—oh
In the muddy water we’re falling
Oooo—o—oh
In the muddy water we’re crawling
Holds me down
Hold me now
Sold me out
In the muddy waters we’re falling…”