sobre passado e algo que...eu ainda não sei.

Quando se lembrar,

BEÃM(!): ele está ali,

Novamente, na tua frente

E tu acabaste de bater de cara no muro, nele.

Parece que ele está ali como teste.

O que tu fez?

O que tu fará?

Parece que ele está ali como incentivo.

Tu já superaste isso.

Consegue ir mais longe?

Consegue pular o muro?

Consigo, consigo, consigo... Sigo.

Eu quero olhar, mas não quero olhar.

Eu tenho medo, mas eu enfrento.

Na verdade, eu fujo

E continuo

Vivendo.

Não, viver não é um fardo.

Viver é uma consequência querida

E necessária.

Eu amo viver.

Que venha o futuro e todos vãos de seu terreno incerto!

Se eu cair, tudo bem, eu levanto e continuo

Vivendo.

Eu (sobre)viverei.

Que venha o passado e seus fantasmas!

O remorso e a culpa não me consomem mais.

Deixe-me viver!

Que venha o presente!

Este eu agarro com todas as forças que tenho

E as que eu não tenho também.

Eu quero viver!

Seguir em frente é uma consequência queria

E necessária,

É viver.

Deixe-me por favor.

De volta à tortura vestibulanda.

Aula turno integral a semana toda e no sábado de manhã.

Enfim, eu juro que esfregarei na cara dela (não necessariamente ano que vem, claro): OOOOH PASSEI NA FEDERAL!

agora estou falando sério. vou dormir nos livros. :*

ah, eu sou a mulher mais feliz do mundo quando vejo ela sorrindo pra mim.

AAAAAH, BIXA RECALCADAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. EU VOU QUEBRAR AQUELA BIXA DE MERDA. MENTIROSO SEM VERGONHAAAAAAAAAA! FILHO DA PUTAAAAAAAA! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH, TOMARA QUE MORRA COM PRÓPRIO VENENO! HIPÓCRITAAAAAAAAAAA.

VIADO FILHO DA PUTA. EU VOU TIRAR O POUCO DE VIRGINDADE QUE SOBROU DO CU DELEEEEEEEEE. VOU ACABAR COM A VIDA DELE. COBRA MISERÁVEL!!

VOU FAZER A BAGACEIRA!

aí, amo expressar minha raiva :)

antes que se apague.

par perfeito:

Eu vou ser realista: com essa pessoa, eu conheci os verdadeiros extremos. Bufar e chorar de tanta raiva. Tremer de medo. Sentir saudade depois de quinze minutos longe dela. Chorar por nada, ou tudo. “Latir”. Rir de piada sem graça. Amar com todas as minhas forças. Planejar o resto da minha vida com ela ao meu lado. Sorrir só por lembrar que ela existe. Sentir-me fraca por pensar em perder essa pessoa. Sentir-me a pessoa mais forte do mundo por saber que ela está do meu lado.
Não vou mentir: amar é dificil. Digo, dá medo amar do jeito que eu amo ela. Sustentar algo tão inocente, puro e forte. É MÁGICO. É tão essencial pra mim a ponto de me fazer sentir como se ela fosse parte de mim. A parte que faltava, e eu encontrei. A diferença: o que eu procurava.

alguma coisa ainda escapa ao naufrágio das minhas ilusões.

queria

Quarta, eu queria: Casar, morar em Porto Alegre, ter filhos, uma casa do lago e um cachorro chamado Senhor Estrôncio

Quinta, eu queria: Sair e dançar (muito) sábado, conseguir estudar e fugir de tudo e de todos. Sexta, eu queria: Sair e dançar (muito) sábado, estudar, passar por cima de mim e esfriar minha cabeça.

Sábado, queria: Ligar, ligar, ligar e que ela estivesse comigo.

Quinta eu fiquei chateada. Sexta não tinha vontade para nada. Sábado, eu tomei o maldito remédio, liguei, fui esmagada e dancei. Hoje, queria escrever, mas não ta rolando. Quem sabe amanhã. Ou outro dia.

dormi pensando...

o dia de ontem

acordei pensando...

Proteção

queria poder..

por mais que ele quera que tu fique.

C20H21N2FO salva. :T

eu não quero olhar para cara daquele cachorro.

acho que preciso fazer um twitter. -n

bom dia.

hoje eu acordei com um pouco menos de vontade de viver. engraçado, porque ontem eu fiz meu plano de vida para os próximos vinte anos.

e não é só o meu corpo.

sinto-me fria.

Decisão:

Vou fugir para um lugar frio e úmido chamado Rio Grande.

será que eu errei? não, não errei. mas também não acertei.

Sinto-me insignificante diante do sentimento que guardo. =o=

momento uhul do dia.

não to estudando pois minha concentração ta 10%. adoro me sentir assim, mas também odeio.

twitter me irrita profundamente.

Nunca mais entro no twitter deumcertoalguém.

Sim, isso é uma direta pra ti. Eu sei que tu lê todas as merdas que eu escrevo.

oque está dentro do meu peito:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA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muita raiva.

como o twitter me deixa com raiva.

tenho medo de morrer dormindo.

Olhar para trás

Tenho uma mania que nunca consegui me desfazer: olhar para trás na hora de ir embora. Dar uma última olhada. Ter a última imagem de alguém, lembrança, de dia bom ou ruim. Às vezes, tu recebe um sorriso de volta, um abano ou as costas simplesmente. Recomendo esta mania, porque ela também se aplica a vida – a minha pelo menos. A metáfora (vazia) da minha vida.

Quando faço isto, sinto que estou cuidado e lembrando de quem eu estou deixando para trás mesmo indo embora. Não sinto que estou pensando no passado.

OBS: eu estou falando de vida.

Saber que alguém olha para trás e lembra de você, mesmo indo embora, traz segurança e conforto. Pelo menos para mim, traria. Por isso, sempre olho para trás na hora de ir embora.

sinto-me um pouco menos eu. De certo ponto de vista, até que é legal esta sensação.

-

Sinto-me frágil e, simultaneamente, intocável ao rir diante da melancolia e da (minha) tragédia, mas é só uma questão de reações químicas.

Obrigada por ...

ser meu abrigo e refugio (e me aturar) esses últimos quatro meses. Minhas palavras continuam sendo insuficientes para descrever o que eu sinto por ti. Tu não sabes o quanto tu tens sido importante para mim. Eu te amo e quero passar mais (e mais) meses do teu lado. =o= <3