Perder?

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Os Amantes 1 e 2 – René Magritte 1928

Estarei a perder? Estarás a perder? Estaremos, ambos, a perder?  Poderá haver quem diga que sim, nomeadamente eu e tu.

Eu sei que estou a perder. Sei o que quero, e não posso ter. Sei que sonhar é para já o que me é permtido. Sei que te quis, quero e quererei.

Pelo caminho, o mundo já deu tanta volta. Já ficou de pernas para o ar e voltou a endireitar-se. Já esteve (muito) escuro e voltou a nascer o dia. Já me perdi e já me voltei a encontrar.

Eu sei que sim. Um dia. Mas, diz-me, porque é que tem que ser “um dia” e não pode ser amanhã? Parece que estou a ver e a ouvir “Porque não pode ser, também gostava mas não pode ser”.

Não pode ou não deve? Sabes dizer-me?

Eu sei, sou muito suspeito. E, permite-me que seja egoísta e convencido só por agora, eu mereço-te e tu mereces-me.

O “um dia” pode muito bem ser amanhã, ou depois de amanhã ou até para a semana. Só não quer que seja “um dia”. “Um dia” não é nada e eu estou cansado de promessas vazias e sonhos sem sentido e palavras sem saída. Não tuas. Da vida.

Eu sei o que estou a perder. Tempo. Tenho anos para recuperar. E não quero que seja “um dia”. Não precisa de ser amanhã. Ou depois de amanhã ou para a semana. Quero saber quando. Não queiras saber o quanto quero saber quando.

Temos uma história para contar. E ainda só escrevemos o primeiro capítulo.

Estou a perder, sim. Estou a “perder-te”, a perder tempo contigo. Guardar “isto tudo” para mim cansa.  “O que é ‘isto tudo’?” perguntas tu, como se aqui estivesses. Não sejas tonta. Tu sabes. Se calhar até melhor que eu…

I dreamed I was drowning in the river Thames

I dreamed I had nothing at all

Nothing but my own skin

I dreamed I was drifting on a howling wind

I dreamed I had nothing at all

Nothing but my own skin

Slipped away from your open hands into the river

Saw your face looking back at me

I saw my past and I saw my future

You take the pieces of the dreams that you have

‘Cause you don’t like the way they seem to be going

You cut them up and spread them out on the floor

You’re full of hope as you begin rearranging

Put it all back together

But anyway you look at things

Looks like the lovers are losing

I dreamed I was watching the young lover’s dance

I reached out to touch your hand but I was watching from a distance

We cling to love like a skidding car clings to a corner

I try to hold on to what we are, the more I squeeze the quicker we all are

You take the pieces of the dreams that you have

‘Cause you don’t like the way they seem to be going

You cut them up and spread them out on the floor

You’re full of hope as you begin rearranging

You take the pieces of the dreams that you have

‘Cause you don’t like the way they seem to be going

You cut them up and spread them out on the floor

You’re full of hope as you begin rearranging

Put it all back together

But anyway you look at things

Looks like the lovers are losing

You take the pieces of the dreams that you have

‘Cause you don’t like the way they seem to be going

You cut them up and spread them out on the floor

You’re full of hope as you begin rearranging

Put it all back together

But in the final reckoning

Looks like the lovers are losing

Anúncios

Caminhos

Pensamentos que derramo, sem saber. Imagens evocadas, do passado. Ideias, palavras que me surgem.

O meu caminho é feito contigo.

Pensar em ti, sentir-te ao meu lado (mesmo que não estejas), é-me quase tão natural como respirar.

É uma espécie de tortura. Pelos dias em que pensar em ti é uma espécie de cruel verdugo, algoz, carrasco, que se deleita com sofrimento alheio… Outros há em que é uma espécie rara de alegria.

Não sei (nunca soube) definir “isto”. É tão simples como é complexo. Branco como é negro, ou muitos tons de cinzento.

Sei somente que és tu. E eu. E esta barreira imaterial. Mas também sei, sinto, sonho, confesso – um dia seremos nós.

Vejo-te (ouço-te, toco-te, cheiro-te, saboreio-te…)
Como me vês. Mais ninguém existe.
Mais nada é importante.
Amo-te.
Como nunca amei outra.
Amo-te como nem sequer sei que consigo.
És a melhor, a única.
Não consigo mentir-te.
És a mulher da minha vida.
Vou ficar contigo.
Vou voltar para te ver. Todos os dias, como se fosse o primeiro (Lembras-te?).
Não és a mulher mais bonita do mundo. Não precisas de ser. Mas és. No meu.
Acredita.
É verdade. Não é só o que pensas que queres ouvir.

Sempre soube que um dia me arrependeria
De te ter dado quando não queria
E hoje penso que no faria, como tudo seria
Podia ser tão diferente
Mas não, escolhi nãoo te ter aqui
Não sentia que eras parte de mim
Agora penso o que será de ti
Foi em vão, foi em vão que me despedi
E agora penso que contigo seria mais feliz
O que será de ti
Sempre soube que um dia me arrependeria
De não ter ficado só porque não sabia
E hoje sonho com um futuro onde eu e tu somos um
Mas não, escolhi não te ter aqui
Não sentia que eras parte de mim
Agora penso o que será de ti
Foi em vão, foi em vão que me despedi
E agora penso que contigo seria mais feliz

Afterthought

Afterthought

How does one explain this? How does one convey the feeling of always being on the very edge of life, on the verge of toppling into nothing?

That’s how I feel. Like I’m going thtough this life shrouded in an armor of mist, darkness, absence of light. No one notices me. I’m just existing. I’m not living.

Is it me? Am I being an egomaniac? Why should people not live their lives without me? I know I shut myself away and let no one in, but it feels like no one cares. It feels that no one asks me how I am, how my day has been, how I’m holding up…? Even when they do, typical answers satisfy most inquiries into my well being, or lack thereof.

I don’t know. It’s hard to feel this way and still be labelled antisocial. That I may be and I don’t deny it. It’s just hard… To go on like this! I broke out of this prison before. This time I don’t want to. I don’t feel like it, yet I know I must…

I’m just tired. Tired of going through life like and afterthought, a wisp of cloud or smoke.

Maybe I don’t deserve anymore than this. maybe I brought this upon myself. Maybe I’m “doomed” to go on living like this…

I don’t know. Really, I don’t.

Void

It’s just a big old void.

No matter how much I want to tell you how I feel or what I feel or why I feel it… It seems like no amount of words I can ever use will even come close to describing this… Void.

And that’s if I actually knew how I feel. Because I don’t.

Sad? Sure I feel sad. Lonely, you can say that. Sort of left by the wayside. Living the same old way, every old day.

Same old helplessness. Same old bouts of despair and wondering just what the hell am I doing here? What’s my purpose? It all seems meaningless.

All this effort of being the best person I can be… What the fuck for? For whose benefit? Sure as hell ain’t mine! And sure as hell ain’t for anyone else’s!

I’m floating around the edges of life. Clinging on to the vague hope of… Something! Grasping at “dreams” that disappear like so many whisps of cloud. Holding on to… What?! What am I even holding to?!

Nobody seems to give a flying fuck anyway.

Am I selfish? Self centered? A motherfucking egomaniac who only cares about himself?

Maybe.

But nobody cares. Nobody notices. Nobody even looks at me twice.

I don’t know I feel. And I’m not good at expressing how I feel. And I know I tend to not want to burden people with my bullshit.

But hey… I think I deserve something more. I never ask for attention. Sure as fuck could do with some right about now, though!

Ask Yourself

Sento-me. O cansaço dos dias acumula-se, pesa na mente. Um peso surdo, um ruído de fundo. O menos dos meus problemas.

Não há resposta à pergunta que nem eu próprio sei qual é. Sinto-me invisível. Atravesso os dias como neblina. Ninguém me vê, ninguém me ouve, ninguém me sente.

Não há respostas. Não há perguntas. Ou há demasiadas perguntas e demasiadas respostas.

É esta a sensação de se ser inútil? Só mais um? Banal? Sei que já não fui (inútil, banal, só mais um). Sei que me sinto assim. E, hoje, ninguém me convence do contrário.

Já passei do ponto em que preciso que “alguém me salve”. Já passei do ponto me que preciso de alguém.

Estou além disso.

Numa indefinição. Numa falta de rumo. De sentido. De alegria. De vontade.

Sinto-me sozinho e às vezes parece que ninguém quer saber (principalmente eu).

Vivid Dreams

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It’s a sunny day. They’re both walking through the city, their city, their part of the city – filled with light, sunshine, the hustle and bustle of townspeople and tourists alike.

Shyly, surreptitiously he looks at her from the corner of his eye. Her flowing hair, the curve of her shoulder as it joins her (eminently kissable) neck, her bright eyes, the mischievous smile. “Damn, am I lucky or what?!” he says inwardly “I can’t believe I met her when I did how I did…”

He’s broken out of his revery by an intense pair of eyes staring straight at his, the imptient tap of a sneakered foot on the traditional cobblestones that line streets of their city, the placement of hands on hips and the words “Are you sleeping?! I’m talking to you! Let’s go have a drink!” briskly she turns and leads the way and it’s all he can do to follow.

They spend the whole afternoon together, marveling at their city. As if it’s the first time they see it. In a way it is, as they’ve never seen it together, through each other’s eyes. And they’ve found even more to bring them together.

As dusk arrives, followed swiftly by night, they head towards the river and have a seat on the grassy banks. Uncharacteristically, she chooses to sit close to him. And it does not go unnoticed.

As they talk he notices the subtle, covert, looks she throws his way. The fact that she uses every excuse to touch him. The increased brightness in her eyes as she smiles at him… “What’s going on?” he wonders as a whole swarm of butterflies start flapping around in his stomach. He can’t help but smile back at her, touch her back and he certainly doesn’t need an excuse to look at her, he just doesn’t hold back anymore.

They go back to walwalk through the streets of their town, the downtown buildings (now lit by streetlights) still glow with bright colors. Suddenly she reaches out and holds his hand. He flinches, almost recoils, as if an electric current had suddenly jolted up his arm, but manages to hold it together and entwines his fingers with hers.

They stop at a crosswalk light. She turns to face him. They look at each other right smack in the eyes for a second or two (that actually feels like forever, but in a good way). She steps closer to him. Unbelievably she steps even closer. And closer… And lays her head on his shoulder. He wraps his arms around her and holds on tight, as if for dear life.

“Damn, I must be dreaming!” he says out loud, as his hand finds its way to her hair, she giggles, sighs and says “Then it’s a fucking good dream, and I’m having too!” and cuddles up, even closer, to him…

Just then… The alarm clock goes off… I shut my eyes tight and try to go back, to dive back into that moment… It’s no use! I can’t get her back!

All I see is beautiful blood red hair, bright eyes, naughty smile, all I feel is the touch of her hand in mine, I can actually smell her around me, on me.

Vivid dreams are the worst some people say.

Allow me to fucking disagree!

Out here looking for the good life
Tongue in my cheek and your back in my knife
I keep pushing through, my eyes right on you
Everyone says you should get away, fast as you can
But I know you’ll stay, you never fall behind
It’s always on your mind
You’re somewhere I wanna go
Nice and swift as we take it slow
Well were on our way
Don’t never hesitate
I’ll hide in the dark in the back of your brain
And laugh a little louder as we go insane
No time to waste
I never come too late
If you don’t like it
Then try it
If you don’t like it
Then try it
Oh, I believe it when I see it
I’ll believe it when I see it
You’re a misfit and I’m your freak
Dance all night till our knees go weak
We could shut this place down
No one else is around
I try hard to understand
The crush of the world in the palm of your hand
You know we sit just right
Let’s run away from the night
If you don’t like it
Then try it
If you don’t like it
Then try it
Well babe, I believe it when I see it
I’ll believe it when I see it
Tongue in your cheek and back in my knife
Out here looking for the good life
Keep on pushing through, I got eyes on you
Baby, you know that we’re on our way
Misfit and freak every single day
Sittin’ ten feet tall, let’s go take it all
If you don’t like it
Then try it
If you don’t like it
Then try it
I know you can see it, I’ll believe it
You can see it, I believe it
We’re here for a moment
So let’s own it
For a moment, so let’s own it
It’s here for the taking
Why you waiting?
This good loving is worth making