Partida

HÁ EXATOS 9 ANOS ELA PARTIA.

SINTO SUA FALTA, MÃEZINHA... OBRIGADA POR TUDO! ESTEJA BEM! OLHE POR MIM.

The mask in me

How much of ourselves is tame for us to become socially acceptable?
They say I'm a nice girl. I am intelligent and make friends easilly. But who is friendly and intelligent? Myself or the mask of me that I allow others to see?
They tell me I need to learn how to play. That I expose myself too much. That my feelings are always visible to anyone, and that if I want to relate to someone I need to learn not to expose myself. But the life I live without saying who I am is really mine or the one who someone imposes to me?
I want to declare my hatred, say my loves, exposing my soul. What would they do with it? Who would judge me? Those who are playing, or the people inside the players? I think that, on our own will, we have became pawns on a chessboard where few are those that determine the movements. And if someone does not abide by the condition of a pawn, it becomes a person who we admire. Why, then, we are pawns?
It is dawn and those are the thoughts that are making me turn and turn in bed before falling asleep. What does make us stand in line of the pre-set conduct instead of making us live by own will? We all have monsters inside us, and these need to be shackled lest, this way we won´t lose ourselves. But we have dreams too. What does make we arrest them?
If I love, I want to declare. If I hate, why pretending? I am tired of hearing "do not call him, you can't show you want him, because he will despise you." Sincerity, today, is judged as weakness. And it's true: we are punished for acting as the heart tells us. The council of not exposing is the demonstration of true friendship. But what is the veracity of a feeling that can not be declared, as if it is, won't be, obligatorily, corresponded?
I get tired of being human. I get tired of thinking. I get tired of playing. The evolution of the intellect takes us away from what makes us a creature of nature. Everything is game, everything has a second intention. What does life worth living disguising? On the other hand, what does bleeding inside is worth when what we can expect from the other is dissimulation? 'Cause we move so much in schemes we lose ourselves inside our own movements on the board. I'm afraid we can not start over. Or, if we succeed, would we knowhow to repeat the items and avoid what was considered wrong?
How many times I was criticized for that one phone call I've given or the message I've sent. I acted on impulse. "Impulse" term to become acceptable to others what, by definition, you should not have done. But why shouldn't I?.
Love me, hate me. If I can't be true to myself, how can I be with others? And if they don't want I get authentic and I relate to me as I am, what does the relationships and the living are worth?
I'm tired. Too tired. Maybe talking too much. Maybe thinking too much. But what would that be? Another reason to explain why I think as I think?

Bittersweet

She is a girl with no delicate poses, smiles not discreet and a mysterious look. She looks like a spoiled girl, has a touch of whimsy, a sensitive of a flower, a charming way of being, a touch of intuition and a tone of sweetness. She reflects lilac, a bright of a star, a restlessness, a lonely of an artist and an air of a wise scientist. She is intense and has a mania for feeling completely, for loving completely and being completely. Inside of her there is a foolish heart, which is always capable of loving and trusting again. She as that sweet taste of romantic girl and that sour taste of modern woman.

Falling in love again

And then I got that the point is that I live in love, and this way it must be...

In love for falling in love, for knowing and discovering, for revealing the intricacies that take you over your own reason, that take you beyond the second of reticences that permeates your audacious words. I fall in love for watching you revealing yourself, shy and bold, using expressions that make you blush, thinking about things you don't imagine thinking; but you do, and that alows you to conduce your fingers over your body, your pudency, 'till reaching  the keys of which, like me, you may have. But your propriety and furor transform you, letter by letter, and so they tell me, the fingers, where they had been, what they had seen, what they had done and what they don't want me to know, ever! I fall in love for watching you abandoning yourself in your own, delivering yourself with no reservations, no masks, no right terms... I fall in love for watching you unabashed and provocative, cruel, playing with me even aware, that you already are, beforehand, the winner.

 I fall in love for imagining where you are, and what you think about. I fall in love for thinking what touch your lips now: if other portion of lunch, if your softness of one more sip of wine, if the pen that follows your criativity.

I fall in love for being on your wait in the end of the day, not needing to say if mine was tiring or not, because, afterall, you'll come: and seen your smile, trying your smell, felling your touch, there is nothing else that matters to me.

So I hear you, and whatever is sharing the events or any other fact, I make myself as a partner and realize, again, why you are the one that completes me, and I ask myself why I am your choice.

And then I get that the point, about any other thing, is you.

While for me, it is only, surrendered, falling in love again.

Where is the problem?

It's them or me? 

That see everything fuzzy, death and uncolored?

Almost skeptically?

It's them or me?

That have the views disturbed by the clear

and run away scared from movement?

Are we or just me?

That see the world this way

with no protruding beginnings

genial ways

and happy endings?

So, let's try in an other way

Make up a new face

a new base, for now

a new fashion

let's cheer what ain't come

for them to come

and blossom

and make the day smile, who knows...

Let's forget what happened

to end

and blow my will

in yours, that I know, exists!

Gimme a second, plz

Inside me is a bunch of nothing. I haven't been thinking of fears, of ghosts... I have been thinking not even in love, to be honest. Inside of me there is breeze instead of wind. There is coconut water, instead of vodka. Inside of me is quiet, but I'll be able to hear - once in a while - a Chico Buarque's song in the background. Don't worry, nothing of this is lobotomy or the promess that here, inside, will always be like this, unlike, inside of me is never like this.

Inside of me is quiet for now, and only for this moment, I'm fine. So, I beg you, don't ask me to talk about it, don't ask me to explain it, 'cause this way, I'll get sick again.

Let me here, enjoy a bit of  myself and hers... which is here wirh me now...

Nice to meet you!

Nice to meet you, my name is Tamara.
And I start like this, being different from the name. Okay, nowadays not so different, but so, and without stress.
And though my name is not that common, the directions that my life is taking are... a lot.
Alone, by myself, sole. In solitude I start the story of a glorious life. A lifetime of present friends, accomplished dreams, smiles at dawn. By myself here I am. And at this point I don't know exactly who I should call friend, and it's not also that obvious who I dedicate my friendship.
The other day I was reflecting about my childhood... An internal talk, crazy, from who knows that miss the past only because the past is not the present. And it doesn't mean that the past had been wonderful, complete and beautiful... it's just it is past, and us, as nostalgic declared, have to magnify it - although big are just the dusty cobweabs of the past.
So funny I feel a nagging 90 years old when, in fact, I am not even a third of it. It's the sciatic that hurts, the head that failures, the heart that is petrified. Who said that the head things don't manifest on the body? Here I am as a proof that it's true. By the way, I am the proof of all findings that were necessary to create the Murphy's Law. Yep, I am exaggerated.
I get kind of dizzy to see myself abandoned, when I was the target of so many smiles in my directions - yes, being a teacher has its advantages -. So pathetic to see as people take different paths in life, as the time goes. More pathetic is feeling stuck when, apparently, all the rest of the world is walking...
It's time to walk then. Of love or hate, whatever. Bigger feelings won't move me anymore. I've promissed. Pos-graduations, superficiality, calculated movements, contained acts, false crying and laughing in the corner of the mouth. No cleavage, no talon, no gun in my mouth, no naturality. I'll become the girl that everyone calls NORMAL, and I'll say goodbye to the libidinous creature, egocentric, questioning and complex that I've created in myself. Purchased standards, to have one day, proud daddy, own house and car of the year, I can, finally say: "Today is my day".

--

I don't think so... I guess I will never be that one...
May I start it again?

... Nice to meet you, my name is Mary... afterall, even on TV was already said... Today is Mary's day...!