pedaço do gato

...or maybe I just needed that, you know? Maybe I needed to get in touch with this horrible affection and get some sort of cathartic closure. I needed to cry my disbelief out in order to relief the pressure inside. Better out than in. And maybe this is over now. This theory makes sense, which gets it instantly doomed too. But to feel as I feel today makes perfect sense on a reality where I literally just got out of the deep and cold waters of love where I almost drowned to death. It would be crazy to go for a swim 5 minutes later. I have to wait now. Waiting isn't something I have to do, though. Waiting is not doing anything, anything at all. To lie on the floor in absolute silence, to refuse words and feelings. Waiting is refusal. And I'll wait.

I'm in physical pain. It's not just a metaphore, I'm not talking about a psychological suffering. My heart hurts, or at least something somewhere near the heart region, something hurts. It hurts when I breathe, it hurts when I laugh. Poetic, isn't it? And although I'd say breathing is quite important, laughing is almost more important to me. I laugh in the face of danger, I'm Simba again. Humor is my original and ultimate defense against every threat that flies towards me. I joke about shit, that's how I roll. That's how my repression works, how I avoid getting in touch with hurtful things. I can't joke about you, though. Can't repress this, it's an open wound. I'm desperate. I need help. Give it time , I know. I've been here before, we've been here before. It will get better. But right now, I'd rather have a tree branch on fire shoved up my ass than this. I'm already fucked.

I was pushed to get into the line, almost forced by the context. I didn't fight back either, a good part of me wanted to try it. Everyone's talking about how amazing it is but I don't take nobody else's opinion, I wanted to see it for myself. But every step I took toward it was easier than the other, soon enough I was skipping my way to the cars. It was my turn, I had decided it.  As I sat down on the car, I didn't have time to fasten my seatbelt. The thing was flying up the tracks before I could do anything about it. The speed, the excitment rushing through my veins, the heart beating as fast as can be. Tears flying up my face with every hill we'd go down, the world with its brightest colors everytime we'd go up again. The loops drove me insane and I could barely understand anything because life kept changing so fast, I couldn't keep track no more. And then we came to an abrupt stop. It took me a while to adjust to the world again. My head k...

Jardineira, seu trampo é excelente. Parabéns. Enfia a pá no coração da terra e remexe em tudo, revira e deixa ela irreconhecível, até pra ela mesma. Aí sai. Vai embora viver sua vida, deixa a terra lá. Fodida e semeada. Porque você, Jardineira, não saiu sem deixar uma sementinha ali. Que puta trampo! Parabéns. Daí veio a chuva, que foi uma enxurrada. Parecia que nunca mais ia parar de chover. Eu falei pra ela, Jardineira, que sempre que choveu, parou. Parou. Há quem diga que sua semente foi embora com a água, com o tempo, com o sol que voltou a aparecer. Mas você não brinca em serviço, Jardineira. Você volta. Sai lá da casa do caralho e volta. Sai do topo da torre mais alta do castelo mais lindo do mais encantador conto de fadas e volta. Volta, né Jardineira? Volta pra regar sua plantinha. A gente sabe que não tem chuva que lave e leve o que se planta em santa terra. Você também sabe, não é possível que não saiba, seria muita inocência, quase burrice. E você não é burra não, né Jard...

I went there because I had to. I didn’t want to. I did all the things I had to do. For you. I didn’t want to. I want you to be good. I missed you. The whole time I was dying, I missed you. It hurted me. I kissed them. I thought of you. I had to. I love you. I left. It was over. When will this be over? When will you come over? I'm over you. And under. I love you. You left me. You kept me with you. You kept her too. I love you. I cried. You'd die. I don't mind. It hurts. It kills me. It's fine. I don't mind. I love you. I miss you. Under my blanket. Under no circunstance I'd hurt you. I'd love you. We would have been great. We could have been great. We're back. And I love you. More.