Explicando erros que nada importam no contexto

Isso aqui se tornou a minha privada, sentimental ou não, geralmente de vômitos e cagadas cheios de odio, tristeza e algumas lagrimas secas de amor. This has become my sentimental(or not) toilet bowl, usually vomit and shit filled with hate, sadness and some dry tears of love.

18.10.17

About the things that I will always remember to forget as a dead broken heart

"The world doesn't just disappear when you close your eyes, does it?"



I felt foolish and amazed about that day when I went to a concert and said to her I was there just because I knew she would be there. And then when I wasn't expecting, she came up to me and kissed me like there was no tomorrow, maybe she knew it already, that I would be there... but distance and short time made me realize that love is impossible, and she left me because her time here was over. That's what I always try to remember to forget. Am I being too sad?

The day before I started to date her I didn't know what I was thinking about when I said to her that we supposed to get married, and that was something memorable to forget... But it was real! I've never said anything that I wouldn't do or feel. However, those nights with her, hiding from her parents, and doing some foreplays was too valuable to think on something as good as it was. However and again distance made me feel shitty and hopeless that love went down the drain. Am I being too evasive?

I can't get enough of remembering those nights I spent on her house, sat on that straw chair spoted on the garage, she sat on my legs. Her mother watching TV on the living room, and we both quietly kissing and trying not make too much noise, those sloppy kisses that made my chin very wet and slippery, her curvy and hot body just fit in my arms like a puzzle that I get crazy just to think about solving it and we could spend the whole night there solving the best way to finish those sexy and romantic nights, my leg between hers, enjoying ourselves, but I was too sticky and her uncertanty and imaturity just got me crazy, too much crazy, crazy to remember to forget it. She left me, and left me to the north, and I stayed on her for years, she on the north and me on the south... Am I being too sexy and romantic?

About those messages that she sent me back them. She was far away and saying she missed me. Time passed and she was there again in the same city as I was, in my arms again, I never got tired of meeting her after work, it was too pleasure to think if I was tired after a long night of work, because I wasn't that tired, not for her. We used to take the tram back to my house at about 11pm, she used to wait in the living room, or just in the kitchen chatting with my house mates, awhile I take a shower, and them after that it was just a real wild and intense night with her, one of the most beautiful fluids exchanching between a man and a woman that I have ever seen and experienced. Her white skin full of freckles and her curly red hair was a gorgeous combination that I will alwayas remember to forget, and those nights was so wet and hot that I made her curly hair straight again... Am I being too sexual?

That night I met her to have some drinks, she took me to a high place, like an observatory or something like that and I actually felt high... She offered me to stay in her house that night and I couldn't say no because I was too far from my house. We started watching a movie at her house, she was in the other side of the sofa, and she asked me if I was okay, and I said "Yeah kind of, it could be better", then she asked why, and I answered "it would be better if I was closer to you" and because she thought I was feeling cold she said to me I could get closer to her, and we kissed for the rest of the night, I can't even remember what movie we started wacthing... That mature and grown up relationship made me a better person, and felt blessed to have her every morning for awhile but life is crazy in a way that comes up with the unexpected, letting me down or I did it to me, I don't know, I know I always try to remember to forget it... Am I being too wierdo?

I don't know if feel sad or happy about those days and nights I spent chatting with her for like hours on the phone, I used to cook awhile and she just preparing herself to sleep. She used to be my lifemate, a really good friend, maybe the only real girl friend that I've ever had. We used to talk about just everything, literally. Then what supposed to happen just happened and we date, we fall in love, we fought, we overcome, we overcome many times, we became strong and we came into a real and mature realtionship and we supposed to be togheter forever but things are not an ocean of roses and suddenly it was all over and broken. My lack of love as she said and her imaturity blew all over, leaving her many masks fall over and putting other ones, so how many more masks there will be? And we never chat the same way ever again, of course... However I believed in soulmates, but now I can not trust, I'm not that sure anymore, but I'm sure I've got to remember to forget all of this... Am I being too hopeless?



All those yesterdays I've said that every single time that I decide to give all myself to the love of my life I'd broke my heart in so many peaces that after I'd never said 'I love you' ever again, but every time that I fall in love I am that stupid guy who declare his love and never get matched, never gets back what love really deserves. Always at the 'wrong time' for loving someone? And again is there time for love? Is love doomed by time?

World become so fucking boring that I have seen people saying "stop making romantic things from people that treats you in a bad way". So if you turn things that make you sad into romantic 'poetry' anonymous declarations you are a dumb and not a poet or artist, for me every fucking body is an artist, every fucking body has sufered, not saying that all artists has to sufer to be an artist. But every fucking body is creative, and there is nothing wrong with that and for some reason some people never got a declaration or never were quoted in a poem or poetry or a simple text like that, it's because this person is full of internal complexes and think that no one can turn things into a romantic thing, well, people do and will continue doing it, so get over it.

I'm sick and tired of seeing people saying some bullshit of other people's life and feelings, so just get your shit togheter and live your fucking own life and feelings and stop saying what people should or not do with their feelings and life.

22.9.17

Amargura

Amargo. Um sabor, ou sentido que me persegue, está sempre presente. Até um certo ponto gosto de sentir, mas ja está saturando, ja está esgotando, ja está... amargurando. Amargurando os passos, que pisam em falso, pisam em cacos, cacos de amores esfarelados, onde piso no próprio ego pra engolir o amargo amor. Amargurando a língua, que reseca, que se arrasta e treme ao te ver mesmo sabendo que seu beijo é doce como mel, que voce não gosta. Amargurando a garganta, que diz palavras doces quando eu menos preciso. Amargurando a visão que penumbra, falida, que com dificuldades ve um futuro, só um futuro, de paz e amor. É cansativo essa jornada amarga que é o amor não correspondido, o amor ditado, mal interpretado, de ser trocado, largado, desrespeitado, desconsiderado, desfeito, enfraquecido, desmotivado, imparcial, que tem validade para alguns, desacreditado por motivos banais, sem chance alguma de "correção". Amargurando meus ouvidos com suas palavras desmotivadoras, palavras jogadas, palavras ditas sem pensar, palavras... Amargurando meus ouvidos em ouvir seus argumentos fracos, mesmo sabendo que voce é louca por massagear minhas orelhas... Amargurando os tatos (que um dia sentiu sua pele macia como uma donzela), de quando eu toco na tela, vejo seus imaturos atos.

Depois do amargo qualquer coisa é doce, até o acido da vida é.
Mas a vida é isso, um balde acido, amargo e com um finalzinho extremamente doce, mas não sei ate onde vai esse balde, quanto dura, e se vem sempre nessa proporcao e metida, mas é fato que coisas amargas nos fazem acreditar que um dia o doce virá a tona.