friend

a friend is not only meant to hear us when we need to talk. indeed. a friend is also meant to leave us alone when we need company, so we can finally understand the truth that we didn't want to see.

phylosophy out of a friend's messenger nickname (VII)

love is like war: easy to start, hard to end, and impossible to forget.

shelter

they say that series of small earthquakes can be the sign for a big, devastating one.

'the' sentence

"not my fault..!"

(leeroy jenkins)

false expectations

it's always nice to know that when we are falling from the edge and need a hand above to grab us, that hand comes from below to drag us into the dephts.

phylosophy out of a friend's messenger nickname (VI)

kill me if you want to, but don't tell me i gave you hell when all i wanted was to give you heaven.

the blank theory

i'm in a state of pure blankness. i can't properly sleep. i can't properly stay awake. i can't talk. i can't stay silent. it's just as if i was lost in a endless white emptiness, pure white, with no trace of any other colour to guide me. i may need a hand. but, oh, sad irony, i'm always left alone when i lose myself. or maybe the irony is that i am the one running away from everything and everywhere, and i can't figure that out. anyway, i don't think it really matters.

studying all night long

if somehow you go out tonight, buy me some sleep, please. i'll pay for it tomorrow.

i should be studying for my english exam

but i've just found out the most curious pattern of whites up in the ceiling! wow, and some yellows too! and... is that green dot over there mould..?

lost in translation (and lost in count)

this translation makes no sense at all, but here it goes anyway: "arrested either by having a dog and by having no dog" (my portuguese readers are allowed to laugh at will). this means that no matter what you do, you do it the wrong way. could be worse. somethimes, no matter if you have a dog or not, it still bites you. and hard.

phylosophy out of a friend's messenger nickname (V)

friendship is more tragic than love. it lasts longer.

challenge:

surprise me.

inevitability

i know you. i know you're out there. locked in your cage, with a lit torch in your hand, trying to keep the wolves at the bay. without noticing that, in your despair, the wolves are already in. around you. watching you. waiting. you deny them. but your denial only makes them stronger. i know you are afraid. not of the unknown, though; this time, you know everything. and that's why you're so afraid. that's what scares you. that's why you keep spinning your torch insanely in the air. you wanted things to be different. but they aren't. and the wolves, they do not fear you or your dying fire. they are just waiting. waiting for you to fall.

to convince

most of times we try to convice others of something, we forget the basics. we shall convince ourselves first. if we do not entirely believe in our convictions, who can other recognize them as true convictions..?

quoth the raven:

i have stolen ideas from every book i have ever read. my principle in researching for a novel is "read like a butterfly, write like a bee", and if this story contains any honey, it is entirely because of the the quality of the nectar i found in the work of better writers.

philip pullman, about the trilogy "his dark materials"

it's not that i am being pessimist, not at all..!

a friend asks me how does my heart go. she means love. it goes well, i say, very well as it seems, but i do not allow myself to smile too much. we never know. sometimes it attracts bad luck and tears, and there's no need for such a thing. in other words, i never change.

the dark side of the mirror always throws our malice back

what if i am myself the darkside of the mirror?

a smile

the cloudy morning brought my smile back. i don't know why, and i don't think i should care to know. somethings must remain unknown. maybe it is not so strange after all - if the storm was over....

endgame

(..)

hamm:
in my house.
(pause. with prophetic relish.)
one day you'll be blind like me. you'll be sitting here, a speck in the void, in the dark, forever, like me.
(pause.)
one day you'll say to yourself, i'm tired, i'll sit down, and you'll go and sit down. then you'll say, i'm hungry, i'll get up and get something to eat. but you won't get up. you'll say, i shouldn't have sat down, but since i have i'll sit on a little longer, then i'll get up and get something to eat. but you won't get up and you won't get anything to eat.
(pause.)
you'll look at the wall a while, then you'll say, i'll close my eyes, perhaps have a little sleep, after that i'll feel better, and you'll close them. and when you open them again there'll be no wall any more.
(pause.)
infinite emptiness will be all around you, all the resurrected dead of all the ages wouldn't fill it, and there you'll be like a little bit of grit in the middle of the steppe.
(pause.)
yes, one day you'll know what it is, you'll be like me, except that you won't have anyone with you, because you won't have had pity on anyone and because there won't be anyone left to have pity on you.
(pause.)

clov:
it's not certain.
(pause.)
and there's one thing you forgot.

hamm:
ah?

clov:
i can't sit down.

(...)

(samuel beckett)

whisper

2:00 a.m.. i should be asleep by now; yet i am compelled to leave. the rain outside in the dark is calling me to the empty street. i go. there are no stars in the sky. not a single one to light this cloudy night. i wander. my footsteps are the only sound echoing in this sleeping city. some cars come and go, but i am oblivious to them, as i am to everything else. i am lost.

this might be a somehow poetic way to describe a late-night walk to buy cigarrettes, but the fact is, cigarrettes are not the point. yes, i end up in a local store buying my usual yellow pack of walking cancer, but it is nothing but an excuse. suddenly my room seemed too closed. like a cage, where i was doomed to sat and walk in circles, showing to everyone's laughter my misery. i needed to leave; to face the cold and the wind and the rain and close my eyes and feel that i was alive, that i was still alive.

i feel that i belong nowhere. the wandering outside soon makes me feel empty again. the rain and the cold wind no longer comfort me. for a moment i think about keep going, towards the unknown. but in the end i decide to come back. yet i don't return to my cage. i sit in the stairs and start to think. how come i am so empty and there are so many things that i need to say? god, i need another cigarrette. but i can't smoke here. i should go back to the cage. when i'm pushing the lift's buttons, i look around until my eyes focus on the dark stairs to the third floor. never mind the lift.

i need to talk. i desperately need to talk. i grab my phone and try a few calls. all dead. all empty. of course. who would you expect to be awake at this time? you should be sleeping, remember? i can't help but feel the irony of all this. when i become so miserable that i can actually call for help, no one answers me. no one knows. fuck if the pride can be a hard thing to swallow.

take me as i fall. isn't this from a song? no, not exactly like this. but the music is here. why has this come to me now?

catch me as i fall,
say you're here and it's all over now.
speaking to the atmosphere,
no one's here and i fall into myself.
this truth drives me
into madness...
i know i can stop the pain
if i will it all away....

don't turn away,
(don't give in to the pain)
don't try to hide,
(though they're screaming your name)
don't close your eyes,
(god knows what lies behind them)
don't turn out the light...
(never sleep, never die)

i'm frightened by what i see,
but somehow I know
that there's much more to come.
immobilized by my fear,
and soon to be
blinded by tears.
i can stop the pain
if i will it all away...

don't turn away,
(don't give in to the pain)
don't try to hide,
(though they're screaming your name)
don't close your eyes,
(god knows what lies behind them)
don't turn out the light...
(never sleep, never die)

fallen angels at my feet,
whispered voices at my ear.
death before my eyes,
lying next to me i fear...
she beckons me,
shall i give in?
upon my end shall i begin
forsaking all i've fallen for?
i rise to meet the end...

don't turn away,
(don't give in to the pain)
don't try to hide,
(though they're screaming your name)
don't close your eyes,
(god knows what lies behind them)
don't turn out the light...
(never sleep, never die)

(evanescence)

hear me . . .

almost...

yet i know what is to look into someone's eyes and feel there's nothing to say. the silence says it all. it says how much we love each other. how much we care. how much we want to be together. yet this silence, so full of meaning, means barely nothing in the long run. for most of times i felt myself sinking in silence, i ended up in tears. or it was the reason for them to drop.

haunted

i fear the silence because i remember. i remember when i used to sat alone in the window lattice, staring at nowhere. i had no company. only the silence. only the darkness. i remember when i looked into her eyes and saw nothing but silence - an overwhelming silence that i could not brake, even though there were so many things to be said. i was afraid. too afraid to speak. too afraid to dare breaking the silence that had fallen upon me and her like a hammer falling upon the anvil. i remember when i was crying, all alone. no one had ever heard me. the silence never let anyone hear me. and i heard nothing but me. crying. but i was crying silently.

take me as i fall

and don't ask me if i am ready now. for i am as ready as i will ever be.

rider on the storm

it was raining - a cool, revigorating rain, tears of joy from the bleak skies above. i closed myself inside my room, and sat near the window, hearing the rain pouring outside. suddenly an echo sounded far away - a distant thunder, cracking among the clouds, threathening the earth with the wrath of the heavens. i ran to the window, hoping to see lightning, to hear tunder again, to feel again a storm above me. nothing. even the rain stopped.

something for me (and you) to remember:

if it makes you happy,
it can't be that bad.
but if it makes you happy,
then why the hell are you so sad?

(sheryl crow)

now the background:

we - mean, me and the same anonymous - were talking about life. i am a student. but the studies are not my top priority. i am young and full of life. i want to live. to seize the day. to feel. to be alone and to be with the others. to learn what life has to teach me - and life has a lot to teach me. i could arguably be a good, maybe even a great student. an "A" grade when you finish the university is a hell of an achievement. indeed. but what would that mean if i had to forget everything to get it?

chatting with the same anonymous

"praise coffee! praise macluhan! screw the "A" grades!"

logics

i hate words.
my life is all made of words.
so, i hate my life.

non-sense

when the future is clouded, the past seems a huge non-sense picture.

suicide note V

we are never ready to take the fall. even when we reach the edge convinced that we're going to jump and finish it at once. we hesitate. we always hesitate. we are never sure if it is right. or wrong. what pains me is not the jump i didn't take. it's the countless times i have regreted that decision.

alone

we were laying down side by side, yet we were not with each other. i didn't know where were you. or how were you. i was alone. lost, again, as my eyes focused in nowhere. i saw no light. i heard no sound. i felt no comfort - only a heavy scent of loss, a disturbing sensation coming from deep inside me, taking me over, making my eyes cry dry bitter tears. i feared. loneliness? loss? darkness? i don't know. i just feared.

alone
lies my soul
i'm so cold
i'm afraid
to find
hollow life
sleepless nights
empty days

(ramp)

it was a restless night.

sad, sad, sad - and so what?

pick one day - any day - and make it the world sadness day. i'm growing tired of people claiming for happiness.

worthless

it's a shame that sometimes our efforts does not reveal how much we care for what we are doing.

repeat after me:

you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it. you can do it.

then don't think you can do it. know you can do it.

because we are all dust of the stars

"the sky... the sky is fair. it'll always be above everyone's head. no differences."

dante, in devil may cry

generation gap

she said i do never agree with him, and that i'm hurting him. i don't want to hurt anyone. specially him. i owe him almost everything. but i cannot pretend to agree with him if i don't. i'm no liar, though my life forced me to lie more than i wished to. what does he prefer - a son who doesn't agree with him, or a son who lies to him, pretending to agree only to make him happy?

it's obvious that we cannot agree. there is a gap of thirty years between us. he was born long ago, n the countryside, in a nation ruled by a tyrant. there he grew up. there he became teenager, and there he became adult. i was born in freedom. i have no idea how hard life can be. i studied. i read a lot. i learned how to think by myself very young. so i think differently. so i have my very own way to see the world. you say that i don't even try to understand him. well, have you both ever tried to understand me?

say cheese (or a bit of logics)

let us imagine a swiss cheese, one of those full of holes.
the more cheese, the more holes.
each hole is a spot where there should be cheese, but there isn't.
so, the more holes, the less cheese.
the more cheese, the more holes, and the more holes, the less cheese.
so, the more cheese, the less cheese.

reader mail

emailhosting.com said...
something has to last forever. how about life?

anonymous said...
what is forever, anyway?

reply: forever is a lot of time. if we consider our lifetime as pattern, then we may indeed live forever, and the word loses its never-ending nature. yet, considering the world we live in, our lives are too short. i'm still very young, but i don't believe i will have accomplished everything i wanted to and fulfill all my dreams when death comes to take me away to oblivion. then we don't live forever; au contraire, we have a short life. so we shall really live - we shall fight to make out of our lives something great. after all, i don't believe that in the end any of us wants to "discover that I had not lived".

everlasting

nothing good lasts forever. that's the reason it is indeed inportant.

fish

when it comes to men, perhaps it's most striking trouble is the memory. men's memory is too big. sometimes i wonder about goldfishes. they are dull, not happy, for their three seconds of memories are never enough for them to live or celebrate whatever may happen to them. yet they can never be sad, because they can never remember every little thing that made them suffer.

lack

lack of anger doesn't necessarily imply lack of sadness.

a good sign, my love

for the first time in many years, i wasn't down when the clock rang twelve times, heralding a new year. not that anything changes - in the end, it's a day like any other. but this time i had a reason to celebrate. i don't care if happyness is a temporary state of mind, heart and soul. i was happy before the midnight. i was happy at midnight. i'm still happy - which, in every way, it's a good sign for tomorrow.

yet the world's still spinning around

the way people change is quite astonishing. and i don't mean gradual changes over the years. i mean the small things that are white when they are convenient to be white and turn to black when they are not covenient to be white any more. most of times, it's all a matter of will. but as the situation change, people are not willing to cooperate. specially when they can get no benefit from it.

ignorance is a bliss

many theories about the biological roots of passion and love have been published in the last years. it's quite understandable. among all pulses of our subconscient mind, the love pulses are arguably the most enigmatic ones. what is the origin of such a strong feeling? why do we fall in love with x and not with y, even if y seems physically more attractive? this is the legacy of the rise of science as the 21st century's religion - mankind is no longer ready to assume that there may be some things left unknown. the feeling doesn't matter for itself - one must know exactly every how and why it implies. i don't care why i'm in love with her, or if our passion will only last one year, or if love is nothing transcendent, but just a cause-and-effect reaction of hormones or neurological impulses. the only thing that really matters is the feeling itself. as if it was a religion, a blind faith towards the unknown. ignorance may indeed be a bliss.

if this is a dream, please, do never let me wake up. if this is real, please, do never let me fall asleep.