metamorphosis 2

i wish i could be a better person.
i am not. i am hoplessly flawed.
there are things far worse than what i am in. And yet what do i feel?
i feel numb.
people are losing their loved ones.
people are racing to provide for a good life.
people are suffering.
people are dieing.
i feel numb.

i wish i could be a better person. but i fail.
i can't see. i can't put into perspective. i can't.
i fail.

some people would kill for this.
i feel numb.

i wish i could be better. I am not.
I'm at the end of my tether.
i am not better.
i am.
endlessly flawed...


V

metamorphosis 1

"Life. My life. I try to express it in words. What I feel, how I am trapped somewhere up the river stream and can't swim to shore. My heart wakes up clogged as if my breath was long gone, lost.
I am lost, i guess you can put it that way. I try to remember the last time I laught with real pleasure and not some facked emotion. And it all comes back to the same point, a unifying place where time and space where suspended under a closed look. A close up if you wish to called it so. I would give anything to stand still in those moments. They are my compass.

Anyone hearing me might perceive me as strange, odd and mostly unfair. I lead a good life. At least to what society describes as a good life. And yet I seem to feel unsatisfied.
Since birth everything seems designed for you, until the day you learn how to draw on your own, with your own paints, your own pencils and you get this insatiable need to look for the shape of things and capture it. Or at least look for shapes that make sense for you, your way of drawing, your way of seeing things, feeling them.

I guess I am a troubled mind. When everyone is worried about economic crisis, I worry about another crisis, is humanity just a sum of things? What about soul? Can we keep it or will we have to lose it along the way to survive? Do we need everything? If we have nothing are we less in the eyes of society? Can't I just be, with no specific purpose?

I have had my moments of clarity. I long for the day when I can pace myslef without being pushed in a certain direction. I just want to feel free, be able to savour each moment without feeling the burden of sacrifice. Others sacrificed for me, I need to return the favour. But how much more can I take?

I feel time closing in on me and I can't breath.

If we cry do you not see our tears? If we scream do you not hear? If we fall will you not see us on the ground? What else can a fellow man feel so it can be left alone, in his journey?

We fight and we struggle everyday for a shape drawn in a moment of our own.

My blank page, my words, my feelings, my life.
My life to live.

Where to? I go...."



V

T de Tristeza

Corri pelos corredores, perdi o fôlego ao subir as escadas. Procurei os números nas portas. Queria vê-la. Queria encontrá-la. Andava a fugir. Evitei visitá-la naquele quarto desde que soube que ficou doente. Não queria descobrir que a imagem que revivia na minha cabeça, noite após noite, de alguém cheia de vida, estava agora sumida. Não queria ver o quanto sofria. Não queria reconhecer nos seus olhos a sensação de inutilidade.

Recuperei o fôlego. Corri pelo corredor a dentro. Perguntei a uma enfermeira onde era o quarto. Fiquei por momentos fixada no rosto da enfermeira, parecia o rosto de outra pessoa que me conheceu ou conhecia. Olhei para a placa que tinha ao peito mas não consegui ler o nome. Aquele sorriso que estranho. Imediatamente sacudi a tentativa de localizar aquela mulher na minha cabeça. Corri para o quarto. Segundo andar. Entro de rompante. Cai-me tudo.

A imagem que temia era real. Estava confinada a uma cadeira, fingia-se de forte nas palavras, na postura do corpo, mas os olhos traiam-na. Enchiam-se de lágrimas quando alguma parte na conversa a relembrava da condição em que estava agora, de como não podiam depender dela.
Tentei dizer-lhe que não devia ter medo de parar. De parar e pedir ajuda. Era a vez dela.

Não sei se consegui, provavelmente não. Tentei que as minhas palavras de apoio não me traíssem, mas sentia na minha garganta a hesitação, o jeito trémulo de quando se está prestes a chorar. Mas o choro engasgou-se. Nenhuma lágima caiu. Apenas se acumularam nos meus olhos.

Como um segundo na vida pode fazer a diferença. Como a vida num segundo se transforma.
Como neste instante o meu T é de Tristeza...


V

B for Beauty

Normal things.
Simples things.
Waking up.
Drinking coffee.
Saying Good Morning or I Love You.
Normal things.
Simple things.
like this song.

simply beautiful.