You’re chained.

When you told me you loved me, did you really think I fully believed in what you were saying? Was it me the immature one? As you spat those words I imagined if you would ever know what really love feels like. If anybody had ever said those three words for you as though they really meant it.
Why did your mouth shake that much when you said that? What were you so afraid of? Didn’t you expect me to say that back? Guess what – I’m still wondering if anybody will ever say they love you back like they mean it – I said that back and I didn’t mean it. Was it what you wanted?

When you asked me to be your valentine was it me who you wanted or was it just someone to be with? Were you really that hopeless for love? Because I could barely understand why you asked it so fast. Didn’t you think we would last long? If you’re so insecure why you always told me contrariwise? Maybe you thought that if you could convince me, you would certainly convince yourself.
There you are being immature again. You just fooled yourself once again, sweetie. And I’m no sorry for you.

At that time I should’ve already got you – my turn to admit I was foolish – but I thought you’d grow up. – Now I’m sorry for myself.
When you said all those beautiful words and made all those unreliable promises, who did you think you were tricking? Did you really think it was me? For Christ’s sake! I wonder if you’ll ever be this stubborn.

When you told me you didn’t love me anymore did you thought I’d hide under the bed and cry all night long like you a child? Yeah. What a heartbreaker! My heart is still in pieces and I wonder if it will ever be glued back together again.

I still have some things left to tell you, but it’s not worth mentioning.
I think you’ll never change until you realize that your off-white lies don’t fool anyone except yourself.

(Text written by http://www.ignaciojafoi.blogspot.com/and me.)

There’s no pain, you’re receding.

Não, hoje minhas palavras não esbanjarão pesar e não retratarão o passado de forma a lamentar.
Talvez de uma vez por todas eu tenha assimilado que não é tão difícil assim ir embora sem olhar pra trás, sem pestanejar uma vez sequer. E talvez isso me doa porque ser dramática é algo que me apetece.
O amor acaba.
Quando me diziam isso meus olhos arregalavam e eu me questionava, incrédula, como assim o amor acaba?
Como alguém consegue ser tão apático a ponto de dizer palavras insípidas sobre alguém que um dia ansiou?
Talvez eu estivesse vivendo em uma utopia onde nenhum indivíduo é capaz de subsistir sem verter sangue. Onde dilacerar a carne e o espírito só cessaria quando não houvessem mais pulsações.
E talvez eu tenha sangrado com tanta veemência que fui expulsa da minha própria utopia para que eu encarasse a realidade de uma vez por todas e percebesse que talvez a vida não fosse de toda uma amargura incessante.

Vi em ti a beleza etérea do que é existente.

Meus olhos abriram para a madrugada e meus pensamentos dissiparam entre a escuridão. Nada absolutamente pensado eu seria capaz de suportar aquela noite.
Me tomaste em teus braços firmes e mapeaste meu corpo fazendo-me transceder as limitações dos extremos sul e norte.
Lascivo.
Senti na carne a sensação de ludibriar-me inescrupulosamente.
Tu sorriste despretensiosamente e teus olhos fitaram os meus de forma tão intensa que acreditei por um momento que tu eras veraz.

Eras?

|01:14:30| Sinto-me sufocar em meio a multidão de palavras que querem ser expulsas do meu íntimo. Reprimir meus sentimentos dói como se cada pedaço do meu corpo tivesse sido retralhado. E fora. Inúmeras vezes.
I’m done.
Caminharemos por sentidos opostos, então?
I’m done.

Re-visto-me.

Tirou-me a inocência, arrancou-me a dignidade e me fez sangrar.
Maldito libido púdico, fez-me tirar as vestes depois de alguns goles, ouvir sussurros eloqüentes e envolver-me em teu corpo quente.
Os sentimentos já haviam sido esquecidos àquela hora, somente os desejos da carne importavam.
Amor? Afeto? Nada disso fazia sentido. A verdade é que queríamos ter a noite mais prazerosa da nossa juventude e nada mais importava.
Olhei pela janela e já era hora. A madrugada já estava desfeita e vi teu corpo lívido perdido entre os cobertores e lençóis amarrotados, sua respiração estava relaxada. Parecia até inocente, não perverso como esteve nas últimas quatro horas. Não havia mais respirações ofegantes misturadas com gemidos oprimidos.
Fitei-o mais uma vez. A última.
Pintei os olhos cansados com cajal preto e a boca em tom provocante, penteei os cabelos desgrenhados com os dedos e acendi um cigarro.
Eu poderia ficar ali pelo resto da vida, se quisesse… Mas juntei meu orgulho e fechei a porta.

I don’t want him to be gone.

The lights shine the dark sky on, it’s cold and the silence makes me feel empty.
I lay on the sand and I stare at the sky, remembering the way he sings, so softly, breaking  the chords distractively, staring at nowhere and involving me each song.
It makes me feel alive, complete.
The sky is darker now, but I can see through it. All I see are blurried memories of good old days.
I feel the pain of missing someone through my veins and it hurts even worse when I wonder how would my life be if I didn’t have him, if the songs couldn’t be sang, if there was nothing left to say, nothing left to remember and nothing left to miss.

J’aime.

Who do you trust?

Trusting someone takes lots of things.
I never trusted anyone. I guess I’ve always been too selfish for that.
Everytime I let myself trust someone a bit, they’d hurt me behind my back. It was always like this.
It came a time of my life that I didn’t even try to trust anyone and I didn’t even care about them.
But… things change. And I’m finally glad they do.
When I thought I was too damaged to ever feel anything again, he showed up.
As if he didn’t want anything, he healed me.
He made me believe that I can trust again. That loving is a good thing.
He’s probably what was missing before… and now I have it.