Why.

Why
I ask,
why.
Why so many walls
so many doors
trapdoors,
pitfalls,
why.

Why can't you
bear to listen
to simple words,

The simplest,
the truest of
words,

put together in
a
particular
sentence,


I love you.


Why, you keep clinging
to your closed doors,
to your misteries - even if
ther isn't a single one.

Why
you don't
trust me,

the one who feels,
the one who allows
himself to float a bit,
yet you yank my chain
and bring me back to the ground?


Is it fear? Of me?
You'd squash me like a bug,
you'd makemasnhed potatoed out of me,

No, it ain't fear.
at least not that one.
Do you fear to open the closed doors?
Face your past?

Please tell me it isn't why,
this isn't you, you know that,
Why
why why
why
why
why
why why why

Please,
just tell me
why.

Vivo?...

A poem!

Love sucks,

'cos it hurts,

and it hurts,

'cos it sucks.

Whitelisted and the gentle art of making enemies.

Yeah, the outcome of the whole debacle was good - everything has been explained and I 'm forgiven by my "special" friend.

Yet, in the mean time I'd discovered that I now possess an enemy. Well, who doesn't? Not many of us live without acquiring a few.

To quote Sir Winston Churchill, "If you're going through hell, keep going." And my favourite:

Blacklist.

Well, we were - I was, corrected - talking about how there is a first time for everything. I was feeling heartbroken, for the very first time.

Then it all changed when the "very special" friend I was talking about talked to me briefly through Fuckmyfacebook chat - she was denying me access. 

She was blacklisting me.

She told me that she needed "some time alone"  ---- does that sound familiar to anyone , if ever , out there?

I spent the rest of the fucking day trying to figure out what was that I did, for her to blacklist me.

I can't think of anything. I really can't.

You don't blaclist people without a reason. What was mine? What THE FUCK did I do wrong?

I still don't know.

Maybe I'll never know, at all.

I just can't think of anything offensive or idiotic that I did to her.

None. Is there really anything, She-wolf?

I took her friendship for granted. Maybe that was my mistake.

I dunno. All I know is that it changes everything.

Things will never be the same.

Everyone who's ever been blacklisted knows what I'm talking about.

Everyone.

If anyone reads this, yet.

A first time for everything.

It's true.  Fuck me, it's so fucking true.

There IS a first time for everything.

Fucking beautiful. Have you ever felt it? Experienced it?

The feeling of having your heart torn to pieces?

It's...fucking awful. And it fucking hurts, but not like the physical pain.

I'd rather have my fucking arm cut off with a saw, no anesthetic, than to feel this shit.

Suddenly you are with someone, who just leaves you in the dark, "to fight off her own demons by herself," something like that.

To me, it felt like seeing a person gave in and let himself be executed. No help. No, don't help me.

I've died a little today, yesterday, and will suffer during the whole goddamned weekend.

I'm lucky that I've got a shitload of rivotril. Clonazepan. I know that I won't be able to do a damned thing, seeing someone I cared about deliver herself to the darkness.

If you fell down a weel, and suddenly an outstretched arm reached down, what would you do?

Grab it and be free, or...do nothing at all? Deliver yourself to starvation, thist and death?

I'll never get this.

Never, ever.

And I should know, because I did it a lot in the past. Refused to be helped. And now the tables are turned, and I am the third party, observing the suffering.

And unable to do shit to help.

I am ripped apart. Torn to pieces. Hurting like a motherfucker...and yet, we wers so close, so....

"Don't help me. Don't try to help me."

I won't.

But I'll die along.

Every day, every hour.


I am  already dying.


And I don't even know why.

"Aprendam"

"Aprendam a ser sozinhos", disse a professora de pintura I, uma da mulheres mais picaretas que já tive o desprazer de ter aula com. 

Mas, às vezes, mesmo os mais picaretas extraem gemas escondidas do âmago da podridão de seu ser.

Esta foi a dela:

"Aprendam a ser sozinhos. Hoje você está com alguém, mas amanhã esta pessoa pode partir. Pode sumir, pode te pôr pra escanteio."

Sim...eu estava bem escolado na arte de ser sozinho. Aí apareceu alguém. Que ficou cada vez mais e mais presente em minha vida, que mais fui me afeiçoando.

E...de repente, se foi. 

Ontem foi a primeira noite de estar novamente "Sozinho no sótão." Não foi bom, pois como tudo nesta vida, a gente se apega a certas coisas. Pessoas. Lugares. Hábitos.

Bem...agora é retomar a vida do eterno sozinho. Refazer-me, reconstruir.

Não vou mentir. É uma merda. Mas... não foi vontade minha. Então, respeitarei a decisão. Não gosto de ficar saindo atrás, implorando. Num primeiro momento até fiz isso, mas não mais. É preciso respeitar a decisão alheia também.

Assim sendo, eis-me de volta ao nada. À vontade de que o dia acabe cada vez mais cedo.

Que assim seja.

...que assim seja.