domingo, 28 de fevereiro de 2010

Chaos - Estação Silêncio


I was thinking about that old saying: 'is not accidentally that people come and stay in our lives'... is not like I belive in fate or something, but for some strange, odd reason this is a thought that keeps bothering me...

It's like... I know that there's no such thing as 'things happen for a reason'... but you know that feeling when you clean your stuff, you wash your face after a long-during sleep, when after that, everything kind of seems to make you feel better?! Is like that... I don't know if this make any sense to anyone of you, I don't even know if this makes sense to me, but when I do this stuff, when I wake up and wash my face, when that feeling of getting better, getting to feel my own touch again gets to me... it's inevitable to me to think of people who come and go in our lives... in my life, actually.

I do believe in forgiveness and I do believe in setting things up, right... this is part of my 'happily after ever' sort of way... this is part of me. But I also have this strange feeling, belief, or whatever, that somethings never change. Like I said before, a long time ago- we try to change people and things around us, but we sometimes forget that we are responsable for nothing else but ourselves and our ways-to-be, our own issues. The hard thing is, sometimes, we tend to forget this... and then, even without noticing, we make a huge mistake, once and once again... we hurt ourselves trying to be demi-gods and heroes, trying to make somebody else realize something that is only true to ourselves... and sometimes, we hurt ourselves trying to figure if we are as important and as valiable to someone as this one is to us. And then, when we realize the truth , when the bell rings, we sometimes act like blind people... trying not to understand, or to see that we only are as important as we wish to be. I would dare to say that this is what hurts the most. And this hurts exatcly because we can't change anything or anyone, no matter how hard we wish to.

No matter how hard we try to get things right, how hard we try to ask for someone forgiveness, or how many nights you spend awake, trying to understand whatever is happening... this is not as important to anyone else than is to you. Certain things do not change... somethings, once lost cannot be found, cannot be taken back. And is up to you to accept it!

Acceptance. Whether in grieving or not, whether in changing or not... this is something you have to rely on.
Moving on. Whether is hard or easy... this is something you have to be close to.

... and sometimes, no matter how hard we wash our faces, or clean our stuff, like trying to clean our own lives... we still cannot forget and move on.

...and after all that, after cleanning out all the mess... I still cannot forget your face, like you own yourself, in the middle of all that, such a tough, big ego... when everybody else recognize themselves as lies.

Ninna... sometimes I cannot be a lie, I cannot be as small as big as my wishing point is.

To someone who did not cross my life, but for just passing by it... kept me thinking about how hard is to me speaking in the 1st person.


[imagem tirada do blog 'Sea of Shoes']

terça-feira, 9 de fevereiro de 2010

Get off, Jack!

"E eis que assim, numa pincelada, num blush ou um quezinho mais de batom no lugar errado, a menina desaparece... eis que no meio dos grandes, a que se escondia agora graceja e ri e até pula, num gesto e num grito esganiçado, vergonhoso... sem dúvida, vergonhoso!"

... mesmo que valha a pena lembrar do que foi, do que fica e do que sem mais nem menos se expõe, nessa mente cheia de distúrbios e macetes descabidos, que são chamados por ai de cacoetes e manias esdrúxulas que incapacitam o sujeito. Ai, essas velhas terapias de corredor e bambu!

Sim, eu sou estranha... e serei assim estranha até o entardecer... quando um segredinho, uma confissão nada bem vinda pega de surpresa uma mente ingênua e cheia de preceitos... Sou estranha, terapeuta... e prefiro mesmo ser, sem essas de melhor amiga e confidente. Sou aquela palavrinha engasgada, sorrateira e odiada... com um H bem maiúsculo e cheia de garfadas. Ai! Nem tudo é assim tão normal.

E nem seria, ou haveria de ter um planejamento para ser, já que os dias derretiam ao sol, quando em vista de miragens, criava-se desconforto majestal e curiosa desconfiança com os pensamentos a noite, a impressão que uma cena ao volante deixara... Essa estranhez esquisita... coisinhas de sujeitos cheios de cacoetes e pre(con)ceitos.

Os dias derreteriam ao sol, enquanto na saleta apertada e afastada de tudo... dava-se imensos e constrangedores pulinhos de alívio... um mês torto chegara ao fim, mesmo travestido de palhaços maranhenses com bonecas em punho...

SAIU!... e novamente um presidente negro subiria ao posto pela primeira vez. E foi tudo festa... antes que o desconforto batesse na porta carregada.

E já que falaram do que faz bem... pra mim, além de todas as encrencas e álibis e palavras esquivas... o pulo na piscina, a chefe louca a fazer truques com os pés, os olhares malévolos à mera menção de um nome raramente visto, os pulinhos constrangedores e pequenas danças 'countries', uma escapada rápida - quando outros imaginariam médicos falando inglês... um olho atento a qualquer movimento suspeito à porta.

E foi... tudo depois do grito, do pulo, do mau humor, da falta e de uma notícia bem mal-vinda...

E para encerrar o dia e a 'estranhez' de sujeitos estranhos...

hit the road, jack... and don't you come back no more!

...e quanto a este post, nem eu sei o que foi.

Ninna... the meanest old woman that i've ever seen.