Vader, you’re not my father.

It’s funny how you can be an untouchable, unbreakable, invincible warrior to everyone that’s around you, but there is always that one person that can get you trembling with a word. Even the thought of it leaves you literally, physically, shaking. That someone that ignites your anxiety and makes you feel like your going to explode at any second. To me, this thing is my father.

The ugly giant wallet that I used to call father and tried to forgive and teach and improve with each passing day is my weak spot. And nowadays, unsatisfied with fucking up my mental health and giving me all sorts of anxiety problems driven by childhood traumas, he decided to fuck up mine and my brother/mother’s life just a little bit more. And the worst part is that it is not even his fault: he got mentally ill. Full time one hundred percent asylum material. Not making sense and not understanding a word, taking meds for schizophrenia and bipolar disorder, going from full optimistically happy to fifteen days on a row depressed and locked inside a room sad.

How can you ask someone that just got in his twenties to carry a luggage that heavy? Maybe I’m a warrior, but I’m not a war tank, not a cargo. There is only so much I can carry. But these events and life and daily routine and breathing and sleeping less than six hours a night and feeling like the world is gonna explode once every fifty seconds are all just constant reminders that I can take it all and I will get over this.

The only way out is through it. And believe me, in two years this won’t matter.

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Shattering Glasses

Hoje, eu comecei meu dia quebrando um recipiente de vidro de meio litro. Sem querer, como se algo propulsionasse o objeto para longe de minhas mãos. Como se toda a tensão, frustração e angústia dos últimos dias estivessem acumuladas na marmita que carrego comigo todos os dias, junto com minhas seis horas desumanas de sono, quatro horas desumanas de trânsito e quarenta e oito horas semanais de jornada de trabalho/estudo. Junto com meus traumas de infância e a bagagem emocional e responsável de um homem digno da crise de meia-idade. Ao invés de começar o dia estressado antes mesmo de sair de casa e enfrentar as loucuras da sociedade moderna, recorri ao saber das antigas civilizações, que acreditavam que a quebra de vidros e porcelanas estavam ligadas ao descarrego de energias negativas.

O segredo é entender que não podemos controlar tudo o que ocorre ao nosso redor, mas podemos mudar a maneira que interpretamos.

and then you wake up in the middle of the night, feeling alone in the world. for that few hours, you can’t sleep, you can’t run, you can’t hide. it seems that even though you have an amazing boyfriend, that is just probably getting drinks with his friends, an amazing job, that can’t save you on the weekends, an amazing body, that can be seen when the lights are out, and amazing friends, already asleep, you can’t and you won’t ever have it all. because good enough is not good enough for you and because embracing the world will one day make you explode. how can you try again and again to wrap your arms around something that’s bigger than you, bigger than everyone? in the silence of the pitch black night, the only place you can find solace is the same that’s been there for you for the past decades: be it in your countryside town or in this huge city, your writing never abandons you. it never sleeps. it is more of you than you actually understand, for it has no arms and no boundaries, for it is part of everything and everyone you ever did or will do.

don’t forget about the writer’s blood that runs through your veins.

Projeto de Férias

A palavra do tempo livre será: Autoconhecimento.

Afinal, porque não aproveitar a fase de crescimento e início de vida adulta para crescer e amadurecer, aproveitando verdadeiramente?

Projetos para as férias:

  1. Escrever as experiências mais incríveis no Grook (my one and only green book)
  2. Realizar uma imersão nas mais diversas religiões e conhecimentos esotéricos
  3. Ler algum livro sobre investimento
  4. Fazer um curso diferente
  5. Ter uma experiência de trabalho
  6. Fazer uma viagem
  7. Ler Freud
  8. Ver Extr@s
  9. Aperfeiçoar minhas habilidades no Excel (vide email Raíssa)
  10. Aprender a fazer barra de calça jeans
  11. Visitar Nova Friburgo
  12. Começar Francês
  13. Estudar pelo menos uma matéria do próximo semestre
  14. Ganhar dinheiro de alguma maneira adicional

“I’m happy you’re saying that, because… I mean, I always feel like a freak, because I’m never able to move on like… this! You know. People just have an affair, or even entire relationships… they break up and they forget! They move on like they would have changed brand of cereals! I feel I was never able to forget anyone I’ve been with. Because each person have… their own, specific qualities. You can never replace anyone. What is lost is lost. Each relationship, when it ends, really damages me. I never fully recover. That’s why I’m very careful with getting involved, because… It hurts too much! Even getting laid! I actually don’t do that… I will miss on the other person the most mundane things. Like I’m obsessed with little things. Maybe I’m crazy, but… when I was a little girl, my mom told me that I was always late to school. One day she followed me to see why. I was looking at chestnuts falling from the trees, rolling on the sidewalk, or… ants crossing the road, the way a leaf casts a shadow on a tree trunk… Little things. I think it’s the same with people. I see in them little details, so specific to each of them, that move me, and that I miss, and… will always miss. You can never replace anyone, because everyone is made of such beautiful specific details. Like I remember the way, your beard has a bit of red in it. And how the sun was making it glow, that… that morning, right before you left. I remember that, and… I missed it! I’m really crazy, right?” – Before Sunset

No futuro será mais fácil sonhar

Epílogo

Tenho uma coisa a te dizer, querida. A porta de madeira abre e você larga a mão da maçaneta, terminando o nó do próprio roupão de seda. Meus fios de cabelo não fazem esforço para impedir as gotas de chuva que insistem em cair. Minhas roupas estão molhadas e você está aí, meu bem, tão perto.

Eu começo a te dizer todas as coisas que percebi enquanto pegava essa chuva. Ah, meu bem, tudo é tão simples agora, por que eu complicaria? Não há pessoas gritando, correndo, se empurrando ou chorando na rua, não há carro acelerando no sinal amarelo. Não precisamos tentar entender os motivos que levam dois aviões a se chocarem contra os prédios porque isso já não acontece mais. Os idosos andam com seus cães na rua pela manhã e há adultos que ignoram a pressa para acompanhá-los segurando suas mãos enquanto caminham pela faixa de pedestre…

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There’s no love in Rio.

The city lights sparkle with every roar of the sea. The white sand helps the ocean to reflect the shining moon, and lots of people are smiling and partying, pretending, specially to themselves, that they’re happy. That they’re full. Only they’re not and they will never be. The nightlife is as overpopulated and chaotic as the daily one, or the traffic, if that matters. There’s sweat, there’s pride, there’s sex somewhere in this mix, but there’s no love, no respect, no true feeling. People don’t have time for that kind of bullshit nowadays. Coffee steam mixes up with the cigarrete smoke, and so do the feelings of my old self with this new one.

There’s no love in Rio.

(Or maybe there’s just no love in me.)