Everyone’s got their couple. Everyone’s got a love, a passion, whatever you want to call it. Everyone’s got someone. The movie was great, seeing my friends was amazing. DeNiro playing that Travis character made me wonder a lot. It was insanely great to hear someone else’s thoughts. It opens the world/mind of a bored man who decides to become a taxi driver… with a little bit of a taste for suicidal. However, despite of all that deep and sad wondering, I was able to enjoy it.
You know, I wanna talk about that. This actual girl? It’s complicated. I like her, I mean, she’s alright. But, I’ve been feeling so careless and lonely… and she’s so lovable and lovely. It feels nice to be with her, to hug her, to kiss her. There’s only one thing: I’m not sure about all that. You see, if I am at another party and she’s not around, obviously I’ll want to find someone else for the night. You know what I mean? I want liberty, but I don’t know until when.
Oh, I’m happy, by the way. This is not supposed to be a sad text or a stressless essay. Just wanted to let off some steam. Sometimes I still feel like writing, y’know, I like writing. It feels good for my soul.
I don’t like things the way they are right now. You see, I can barely put myself into words. I’m confused. It is like I’ve been away from home for years, and I still haven’t used my self to this routine. My friends are far from me, my head’s lost and my sanity has vanished away. Everything is awkward. Fights and arguings doesn’t seem to leave this house… ever. Besides, I’ve been feeling too much alone. I miss the sincere kisses and the “IDGAF to what people think if I’m in love with her or not”. I miss the little talks for big hours straight. But, truth is I’ve found sincerity last night, next to her. It came like we were old friends, you know, with a closure so comfortable that both of us didn’t want to leave that couch.
I don’t know how i’m supposed to get over all this shit. Looks like every moment everything is changing, but in fact, all this just stays the same. Every time. Every day. Every year. And every now and then I still wonder “when does this nightmare will have an end?”. I can hear she crying. I can hear he yelling. I can feel the suffering. But I don’t think I’ll be able to feel my heart beating for much longer. Not with all that crap going on.
A gente sabe quando ta pronto pra enfrentar o passado. A gente sabe quando vai conseguir resgatar aquela sacola do fundo do armário sem medo. Mas medo do quê? De que tudo voltasse. Mas quando a gente enfrenta, fica mais fácil perceber que o passado, apesar de ter tido erros, foi mais do que certo.
É incrível como eu lembro de tudo. Cada fase, cada detalhe, cada segundo… E o erro foi meu. No momento em que eu mais precisava dela e ela de mim, eu fui o único a perder. O que podia ter sido, o que podia ter continuado, o que tinha tudo pra dar certo, eu explodi. Eu estraguei por motivo nenhum. Ela não merecia em momento algum que eu fizesse isso à ela. E depois de anos foi que eu percebi a minha estupidez.
A melhor parte são as cartas. Sinceras, reconfortantes, apaixonantes e poéticas. O jeito dela de organizar as frases e as palavras. Tudo tão dócil e com o teor poético tão alto. Sim, sou homem e gosto de ganhar cartas de amor. Da vontade de voltar no tempo e escrever pra ela de novo, ser poético e ver a reação dela ao ler. Eu era muito idiota, com as ideias muita imaturas.
Não deixo de pensar se volto atrás ou não. Por um lado eu sinto muito a falta, mas não sei se confundo isso com a carência. É algo pra se levar em conta.
Não interessa, essas camisetas vão ter de ser usadas, os cd’s vão ter de ser ouvidos e os bilhetes vão ter de ser guardados. Não me sinto na liberdade de me desfazer de toda e qualquer lembrança. Valeu muito a pena enquanto durou.