Her big problem is that she insisted on seeking the fun of life in all. Everything had to have a clear purpose that would lead to happiness, that would make it easier even after now it was a chaos. She sat on the public transport bench, kind of moldy, and while all her cells repel the dirt, she was concentrating on the music from the iPod and tried to examine her life in that melody. That weird guy, sitting on the front seat smelled like sour sweat and his face was, hum, sour. She would first feel anger, feel hate, would have bias, but now... she was the weird. Now, she was the person who wakes up early, sleep late, eat wrong. The person who walks in the middle of the other and doesn't see anything, because she doesn't have time, because she is always in hurry and feeling tired, because she is starving, but not of food.
People spend their lives being afraid of dying, being afraid of loving and keeping inside of them, everything bad that happens, this way, they can, after, blame themselves for not being happy.
She used to call her boyfriend in the middle of the night, crying and not saying a word. Her pain was so confusing that was useless trying to explain. Her great emotions were shown in small words. She was afraid of everything go wrong, she was afraid 'coz the world could sort out what the fate pretend to be sure, she was afraid of the amount of fear she was feeling. She was afraid that he could just doesn't think it was worth anymore. And, after the fight, every rang the phone "sang", with no answer, was like her heart was getting smaller, compressed, squeezing in a short space, all the sensations that she carried there to live for a lifetime. And it was so unfair to her, everything going so compact.
But he also felt. He felt guilty because it wasn't the way the have planned, he wanted to solve what wasn't in their reach, he felt lack of power over his own life that, now, he seemed to have lost. And when his phone rang, he didn't want to answer, because he knew that from inside of it would come the crying, and, for him, was so unbearable to hear the only person who made him feeling alive, was dying.
But the thing is that the nights were so repeated, to give space to the days that were not seen. Everything was going so fast and "beaten". The eyes in the alarm, the tooth brush, the shoes on feet, from there to here everyday, the hands on the phone, the words that weren't supposed to be said, the crying that couldn't find other way, the head on the pillow. And the day started over again.
It didn't care if it was compassionate or angrily. It didn't matter how many things they said to hurt themselves, slowly, with the fear of not turning back anymore. It didn't care in which time zone they were or if the horoscope said that the only solution was to believe. What mattered is that they were tired, mute and a little dumb. They were afraid of the dark, but there was no place to light up. What mattered is that they discovered that we DO live with no love, but to live like this you suffer too much.
Her big problem is that she insisited on seeking the fun of life in all. And everything she had lived before, although it seemed to so easy, surely didn't make her smiling. And she knew she'd cry much more. She knew that maybe it wasn't close, that it wasn't exactlyin the reach of a hug or the happiness of a kiss, that explains everything. She knew she could've made the easiest choice and this way, she was sparing herself of several nights being awake, with the weight of the whole world separating her from the pillow, but what happens is that every time that his voice answered on the other side of the line, in each silence that filled all the empty of answers and in each end of day that, even without him, he was with her, she knew it.
Choosing between peace and love is the most important decision in life, but, in retrospect, what kind of peace would it be without his hands on her neck, the feet warming each other, the jealousy wars that used to end hot and humid with no enemy around? What would be of her life if not a slumpt, it wasn't for his life? And though it was hard and hurt louder than she could scream, she knew that the thing they had wasn't found in a bar, a restaurant or in the jokes smelling alcohol and dirty that came from the mouth of any other person around. What they had, had the strenght of a missing even when they were together, and this, any laugh could afford. Laughter was just too little.
Maybe then, she thought, it wasn't worth wanting to find just the laugh. She then remembered - closing her eyes, tired to look around - that when she thought of him, she didn't have time to find funny, she didn't have time to ask more nor even think that she was unhappy. Thinking of him was all smiles... Then, finally she understood what everybody means when say that WITH NO WAR, THERE IS NO PEACE.
