Chuva nas alturas

É estranho como rodamos pedaços de coisas em nossas cabeças. Fragmentos de conhecimentos anteriores. Ou...
Ou nada. Talvez tudo tenha vindo de algum lugar mas nossa vaga memória nos detém de saber.
Curiosos os pensamentos que temos em manhãs frias e chuvosas. Não que esteja chovendo muito também, mas chuva é chuva. É mais frio quando parecemos estar sozinhos, não que estejamos realmente, apenas sentimos. Acho que é normal se sentir uma aberração às vezes. Quer dizer, sempre achamos que somos diferentes dos outros, em algum ponto ou outro. Desconsiderando as extremas variações que são exceções exceto aos olhos da mídia, somos consideravelmente parecidos. Mas acho que não é muito bom mostrar isso. Vai saber.
É uma sensação boa quando você pode garantir pra alguém que essa pessoa não está sozinha. Ultimamente talvez tenham sido apenas palavras. Apenas olho essas pessoas à distância. Queria poder ver as coisas implícitas, apenas sei que pedem ajuda quando explicitamente o fazem.
Talvez certas coisas não haja um modo exato de saber.
Só não me diga que eu tenho que sentir. Isso não é justo. Já tive opiniões variadas acerca do assunto. E não sei qual é a que vale. Vou ficar com a que mais me agrada, eu sinto raiva, porque o resto é confuso demais.
Às vezes eu queria gente pra fazer coisas estúpidas, que talvez nem sejam tão estúpidas mas já me fizeram acreditar que são. Tudo depende do meio em que você está inserido. Nadar numa chuva cheia de relâmpagos não é tão fora do normal assim.
Bons tempos...
É legal a distorção de poemas que fica voando por aí. Tudo começa com os tijolos fixos "De tudo ao meu amor serei atento" ou "Ora direis olhar e ouvir estrelas", o segundo com algumas pequenas variações, e depois vão surgindo outros, flexíveis e não seguindo a formação original. Até que tenhamos uma casinha de tijolos completa. Não sei exatamente a razão de ficar pensando isso.
Talvez seja saudade.

Whatever blows your bubble

So, it quite came to this.
A very strange Christmas, I'd say. At least the strangest so far. I am having trouble organizing all the ideas in my head lately, mostly the family part. I'm not much of a family person, never was. Yet I feel bad for not saying something nice at the family reunion. I don't know, maybe it's just that their care is a bit too much for me, but that doesn't mean I don't care about them.
Who knows.
One of the best parts of Christmas is to simply shoot "Merry Christmas" messages all around, somehow, it feels good. It's nice when people answer. And I can't really explain why, but someday, I'll get to pass this day somewhere else, with some other people. I dream of a movie-esque Christmas day, with snow and lights and all that heart-warming feeling. Corny.
I've also been daddling around with anger, it's strange how it seems like almost every way gets you there. It's the easiest thing to feel, it's the best protection you can get, it's the sweetest  poison you can drink. It's... reality.
It's also sad that I have been absent lately. Can't really find an easy way to do everything. It sucks. There are a lot of people I haven't seen before this day and I wish I had. It almost feels like I'm dropping the ball with my own words. I said being there would be worth it but I don't really think I'm living up to the hype.
I've been creating stories much faster than I can get the mood to write, that sucks too.
And also there's all this, being with someone thing. It's quite unreal to believe that you can have a nice and pretty person with you, and both like each other. It's, highly against all odds. Moreover, my self image is quite a strange thing, so, yeah, it's fuckin' weird. Hard to believe. Yet we all can create stories, right? We just need a little motivation and we can make the efforts arise. I'm pretty proud of the surprise galore I've came up with.
Feels funny to feel like smiling at thoughts.


They can't burst my bubble if I burst it first, right?
But, what if I really liked that bubble?
Shouldn't it be easier to try to defend it instead of finishing it before I get the chance to enjoy it?
And what if in the end I manage to avoid their attempts?

Then I'd say that you really should hold your ground for that bubble. After all you woke me up almost three in the morning for asking that.

Sorry...

Nevermind. We are all children looking for something that creates bubbles. It's all about finding the one bubble and deciding what makes you the one to go for that bubble.

I like to think that way.

Thought so.

Are we bubbles also?

You had better get some sleep...


I like the fact the world didn't end. But I still feel like there's a fragile barrier holding this one.
Don't you?
Boils.

Crossing

I wonder why do you have these dreams...
I told you, I don't know! But they are there everytime I sleep, anytime it may happen.
And what happened the last time you dreamed?
We defeated the Crimson King! And then we managed to cleanse Arris Kingdom's Crystal, now the creatures that live there are free from the darkness.
I see, that is somehow similar to some of the dreams you said you had in the past days, correct?
Well... we cleansed a few other crystals and travelled through lots of places, but we were never inside Arris Kingdom before... maybe he had been there before, I'm not sure.
He?
Yeah! He is the one who is going to save the world, he represents all that is good. I met him one day walking through the farm lands, he said he was on a dangerous journey, so I joined him! But everytime I sleep I have to go around looking for him, because I always stop and start at the same point and he keeps walking!


Anything wrong, doctor?
I don't think that's a critical scenario, it doesn't look like anything out of a simple story made to call attention. Just avoid letting him sleep for long periods.


The door closes.
The lenses reflect the light, as if his eyes were two shining spots, staring through darkness.
—So...
The girl looks down, as if under the effects of hypnosis.
—Tell me about your... Wonderland...

Old game, new rules

It's been a while. I'm starting to really consider writing down my dreams, but it seems that my motivation to do it is inversely proportional to the amount I remember of my dreams. Weird stuff.
As weird as all that has been happening lately, still gotta get control of it. Organization is crucial at this point. And in this sea of raving news, rise a few old acquaintances...


They say this time it's for real...
Is it?
Well, I heard rumors about people saying it was, but I got no proof myself...
No, is it for real?
How can I know?
How can anyone else but you know?
Well, I don't know...
It's time you get ahold of the steering wheel, boy.
But what if once again it's not for real?
Up to you.

Oy, captains.
You... you are dead!
Dead? Me?
We drowned you, we saw you sinking!
Oh, that was four years ago... Did you really think that would kill me? I can't die.
...
All you managed to do, was to keep me away... And when the sea once again started to rave, I obviously would be set free. It's in the prophecy...
We'll put you back there, then!
NO! NONE OF YOU, SCUM! None of you can barely come close to me now. Do you know what four years locked deep down can do to you? But I guess I should be thankful... Look what you did to me...! — he proceeds to hug one of them. The body starts to decay, the man frantically tries to free himself, to no avail.

What shall we do?
What shall you do? He's coming for you. You quite lost it a few years ago...
This time it's different.
I sure hope it is.

There's this situation in which it all happens. It always involves she. Whoever she is. Whenever it happens, don't close your eyes. Locking yourself inside means you'll have to fight in the darkness it lives. You kept him locked for years, and that makes it worse.

JUST DO IT!
But what if she doesn't like it? Maybe she just wants to sleep...
DO IT YOU SPINELESS FREAK!
But it feels wrong...
I'll tell you what's wrong, having no attitude is wrong. You remember what happened in the past, don't you? You keep playing good guy, and she'll leave you.
But, maybe this time she wants to sleep.
Be the good guy and die.
It's not like this.
She said she would like to be surprised, didn't she?
Yeah, but I don't think that could be done, like, anytime.
How could you guess?
I don't know, it's hard to feel these things.
THEY ALL JUST WANT TO CONFUSE YOU!
They don't.
They do. Soon she'll say you should have done it, but you didn't have the guts.
I... want to... but maybe this is not the time.
No attitude, once again...
HOW COULD I FUCKIN' KNOW?!
You are just a lone creature trying to deny who you are...
I'm NOT!
Then how come you never feel the timing for doing such things?
I don't know...
Don't lie to yourself.
I just hate all this...
You hate it.
I hate it.
Why don't we fix it?
Fix it?
Yeah, I can help you. You won't need to feel this anymore.
How?
Join me, boy. We can kill them all...

It happens again. That's weird.
But it was foreseen.
What shall I do?
What you haven't done before.
And that is?
Speak. Tell that to her, tell someone. Don't let it win like that, put up a fight. If she can hear you, then maybe you can stop it. Maybe the Law of Greater Hostility can be dropped this time. We can get something new out of this.
So all I've gotta do is say what I think?
That's already a lot, isn't it?
Well, yes.

For them

If you can't stand on your feet to fight for yourself, do it old school.
Get the fuck up to fight for them.

That is. THE LEAST. You should do.

Let's show these bitches what the greatest guardian of hell is made of.

Hazardous times

Feeling tired, I don't like it here because it feels so...  constrictive?
I know I have a load of things to do and I feel like doing sometimes but it just... I don't know. I don't like this place. I don't care if you're going to judge me as a monster for not putting my family in such a higher ground. I never quite understood that thing people have with the concept of family, they are nice, that's cool, ok. And I wanted to be a monster, almost could see myself as one due to some objectives not being accomplished, such as being like the people of my family. Hah.
Damn, I don't have any idea regarding what should I write about. I thought a ton of things today while trying to keep control and not speaking anything about what I thought. I do a good job at that, although in the past I was much, much better. I thought about the things I repent doing, whether could I forgive myself from mistaking with the girl I like, the girls I liked in the past, my friends... but I guess I can. I feel better regarding the 7 years situation, then I guess I can forgive anything else. We just need... calmness. I even had an idea for a game while thinking what should I write now. Well, I don't really know.
Really wish I had my baseball bat now. Even though it bruises my hand, guess that's the price.
And all the demons are dead, maybe that's part of the change. Or maybe, anything.
I guess saying the lack of sex, or affection, or anything like that, is the cause of this drifting, is just an excuse. Gotta keep the facts straight.

There should be more stars in the sky.

Even when I close my eyes

It's been seven years.
And I have no idea how to start this, no matter what I write, it won't look fitting. Let's first start with two dreams...


Or parts of dreams, but these were the most important parts of those dreams.
I remember the skies were kinda gray, I don't know if rainy gray or simply super dark gray. But consider it simply gray, we had a few destroyed buildings around, not big buildings, just parts of what once could have been a house, some white walls and things like that. Perhaps it had some resemblance to my old house.
I don't remember many of the details, I know I wasn't much happy. But, he was there. I'm going to say "he", because I feel a bit strange simply calling him a "it". I don't remember whether he appeared out of nowhere or whether he had been there ever since the beginning. But I felt happy that he was there. Let's put this straight, he was my mongrel dog, and his name was Bob.
I remember hugging him, it's been so freaking long since I've last seen him. Seven years, actually. And he said (bear in mind, I said dream):
—Happy birthday!
And then I said:
—Y-you still remember!
And on the inside I died a little. Because he still remembered that was my birthday (indeed I had this dream around that time of the year) despite of what happened seven years ago. We'll talk about it later, but putting it simply, I abandoned my dogs.
It didn't go much longer than that, I just stood there holding and looking at him. It felt so, overwhelming. It was, and is, a strange mixture of happiness, sadness and guilt. I don't deal that well with emotions I suppose.
And I remember I really wanted to say that I loved him, something I didn't say or show in the many years he was at our house. I really wanted. But the words wouldn't come out. And that was, well, devastating. Even after losing things it seemed I still couldn't value them.
Wonder why saying "I love you'' is such a hard task.
And that's how it ended, with these three words stuck somewhere. And a feeling of guilt that roared through the years, perhaps disguised as other things.

The next part.
This next dream was now indeed placed at my old house. It was a bit dark but not as dark as full night, as many of my dreams. I don't remember the chain of events that were presented earlier, I just remember I was looking at the grass of the backyard. I don't know where did I stay, inside my bedroom or at the living room, but it was most probably the living room.
Now, out of the blue, I had my two dogs out there in the backyard. It came as a surprise. And I just ran as fast as I could. I guess I simply destroyed the fence that we had separating the pool from the backyard.
But, as I got closer and closer, and that actually lasted for perhaps less than a second, they simply disappeared. As in, shining and fading out. And I held the air that now stood in their place. I don't remember what I said, if I said anything. But in my mind now it lies that I said I was sorry.
I really don't remember.
Perhaps because whatever I said it really doesn't matter. It doesn't change the past. But that's too much drama, let's move on.


As it turns out, I still feel bad for that.
Now, what happened was simple. We were moving out of the house, to an apartment. So my parents said we couldn't have the dogs anymore. We would give them to someone we knew, who had a big house with lots of space.
We agreed on it. Couldn't bring 'em to the apartment anyway.
One of these last days in our old house, was the day of farewell. They were taking the dogs away. I decided not to say goodbye, I just, stood inside the house where I couldn't see them and they couldn't see me. Because that way they wouldn't get sad. But on the reality, I wouldn't get sad. It was all just me.
I didn't have the guts to say goodbye.
Or in my words, I abandoned them.
Or in a way my mind decided to put it, I abandoned the few beings in this world that would keep me company no matter what I was.

And that was seven years ago.

On an unrelated note, we had two dogs, but one was my favorite. I feel kinda bad for this since both were pretty awesome dogs but you simply gotta admit these things sooner or later.

Now.
I've been talking to some people, they say I should let this go. And I can understand the logic in their words, but it seems too far-fetched for me to simply let go. Just saying "I'm sorry'' doesn't change anything, right?
I'm not a person who forgives. I never really developed this ability, nor have I ever quite understood. Earlier this year, we've faced a few events which involved forgiving someone else. I couldn't say, "I forgive you", it sounded ridiculous and false. All I said was "if you consider the fact that I do not think about you with so much anger, as forgiving, then you are forgiven". As much as that was honest, and I really meant it, I'm not sure whether it counts as forgiving. But the mere fact that I don't hold grudges against her anymore is something to be noted.
But looking further into this aspect, I see that I can't really forgive myself. For many things, after all, in our human state we pretty much have to do stupid stuff sometimes. As sad as it may be. And even though I am completely conscious of the fact that we make mistakes, I can't let mine pass.
When I was a child, well, ever since I was a child, I believed you had to pay for your mistakes. In the childhood, payment meant pain. I was quite a violent child, you could say. I don't really know. But when I hurt people, I knew they had finally paid for what they done and we could forget what had happened.
For obvious reasons, this behaviour didn't make through the years. BUT, that came with a price. Since there isn't punishment anymore, I don't feel like people have paid. And thus, it gets harder to let things go by.
Now that may sound pretty insane to many people, and I'm aware of that. But that's the way I grew up, and if there's one to blame, that's me.

You know what? I guess that doesn't matter. To keep on playing this same tune of how much of a vengeful creature I am since who knows when, is just the same as using an old excuse to justify my acts.
It doesn't fucking matter.
A definition Sara gave me for forgiving oneself was feeling was to feeling sad for it and being certain that, were you facing, now, that situation, you would act differently. Not as in ''oh, I wish I had made it another way". But as in simply knowing that you can't do that way again. You don't suffer for wishing, you suffer for not being once, what you are now. Anyway I'm starting to de-rail myself.
It gets complicated when you gotta decide whether it's time to move on or not. I have no idea if I have already suffered enough, and I find it is not fair for one to decide about its own suffering. I don't know how sad I made those dogs, but I also don't know if dogs hold grudges like this. My guess is they don't. They are not as horrid as we are. But thinking they aren't makes me sad because they should have been treated better.
I don't really know.
All I'm sure is that they gotta be in heaven now. Even though I don't really believe in heaven or hell. But my automatic guess is that that's where they should be.
I don't know, I can't say that I really liked them or that I'm sorry. Saying this now has the same effect as saying what is my favorite dish. It won't change anything.
But maybe. If I learn something with this. Then it can be left alone and we can move on. At least it shows that you should value things before they go, right? That's a lesson better said than learnt. Maybe then I can learn to show things, and I won't feel ridiculous for it.
I expected to write something more, worthy of being the farewell text for the best dog that has ever walked this stupid planet. But I guess, that's it.
I guess I can only say thanks.
To anywhere, wherever you may be. From the boy who never managed to grow much from those old days.

Incoming

Perhaps the forces of magic are at work?
I don't know. Magic was long ago banned from this world. The mere relation to it already justifies muder, it not worse. Who knows how it works nowadays...
As much as I understand his reasons to ban it, as much as I understand how the belief of magic hurt him, you've gotta agree on me that it was a weak move.
It was a move out of despair.
Yes, but now we have the power to fight back, there's no more room for despair.
And your point is?
We must bring magic back.
You do know, however, that the fact that he banished magic, doesn't mean magic simply stopped to exist?
Of course!
Then, what exactly is it that we must do?
We must make him believe again.
Oh...
Then he'll see that this time around, he can achieve something bigger.
...I'm out.
WHAT?!
That's stupid. You're going to get us killed. You know he hates magic nowadays.
But he's not the same person he was when he faced those girls.
Are you sure?
Hm...?
How can you make such an affirmation?
He learned to fight back, he's even learning to insist after a frustrating loss!
He IS, and will always BE a child.
Just because you want to.
It's not what I want!
Then help him.
Help?
Well, facing disaster only makes us grow stronger.
Nonsense.
He's our goddamn leader. He can handle it. The problem is that, you, and pretty much everyone, always accepted things as they were, and never acted as if he was wrong!
He won't change.
YOU WON'T CHANGE!
I WON'T CHANGE?!
No, because you seem to accept the fact that he will always be running from what he fears. And killing innocent people out of fear. And smashing dreams and feelings, hunting those who aren't afraid. Just because he doesn't feel like he can handle the damage.
...
Even though you and I know, heck, even he knows, he can handle as much damage as there can be in this world.
You think you know pain, don't you?
I don't?
Do you know how does it feel to get hurt and you don't even know where did it come from? To be completely lost?
Of course I do. That's the situation we are at the moment. And actually, you do know where "it's coming from". But you pretend you don't. It's easier to be in misery, right?
...
I'm out. I'll go find a way to save you all from this stupid disaster.


Can I sleep now?

A strange grace

It's kinda funny. Some days I feel so good when I walk around the city, well, more like wandering. There's no real place to go, you just go to the next place that looks pretty.
These times my head goes boom, characters fighting and screaming and playing poker and loud music... that's normal, right? Well if it ain't, then that's a good insanity I guess.
Feels good. Gotta enjoy those warm moments because when the night comes, the thoughts come. At least this time it's really over. Let's just focus on what's ahead. Sooner or later another she will show up. Wish I could ask people to wander around with me, it would be nice.

A change of heart

Heh, que sensação ridícula.
A gente vai passando de trator em cima de tudo, sem se importar se realmente estamos fazendo o que devíamos ou só machucando a nós mesmos no processo. Porque foi assim que nos ensinaram que tinha de ser. Na verdade eu não sei quem ensinou, não sei se foi ensinado ou se foi só algo que eu puxei de algum desenho ou filme que vi, no longo processo de formação de alguma coisa. Isso valeria como ensinamento? Quer dizer, algo que passamos a nós mesmos é algo ensinado?
No fim das contas deu pra fazer quase tudo nesse final de semestre maluco, falta só um pedaço mas dá tanto medo. Não saber é assustador. Talvez porque eu dê importância demais a coisas que eu não devia dar importância, mas... mas é importante. Era um dos objetivos, então deveria ser tratado como importante. Não sei o que realmente deveria ter importância, pra falar a verdade, se você analisar friamente, nada na vida tem muita importância. Quer dizer, não é algo intrínseco das coisas. É um valor atríbuido por nossa mente.
O que não quer dizer que as coisas não sejam importantes, mas a importância varia para cada pessoa. Eu tinha decidido que a prioridade seria me formar, então posso considerar que esse último pedaço complexo seja importante. Talvez essa lógica não seja tão falha.
Só queria não sentir tanto medo. Medo de errar é foda. É um dos medos mais sem lógica já criados por nossas mentes, não é algo cabível, pois a falha possui muitas formas e não temos como processar todas elas, logo não fazemos nada pois ainda (e sempre) estaremos processando todas as formas de errar. É como um medo de tudo.
Mas não, eu não vou parar por isso, uma das últimas leis criadas é "se você tem medo de algo, é esse algo que você deveria enfrentar". Então eu sigo em frente. Devo estar errando horrores mas vamos passando, só não pode parar. É como... estar perdido no escuro. Você não sabe onde, nem com quem ou o que você está. Então saia batendo, alguma hora você descobre onde está, e ao mesmo tempo tem a chance de derrubar aqueles que estão na escuridão para te parar.
Sei lá, é tudo meio besta mas é o que tem servido atualmente. Quando esse semestre acabar a gente continua, certo?
Por pior que sejam os resultados, a mudança é positiva.
Quando acabar, eu vou ter muito medo de tentar me relacionar com outras pessoas, mas é o preço. Vai ser um desastre, vai doer como o inferno, mas alguma hora vai acontecer algo que vai fazer tudo valer a pena. Não faz muito sentido mas é nisso que vou me forçar a acreditar. Em algum lugar por ae vai ter uma garota que faça valer a pena, e eu vou fazer a minha parte.
Obviamente, ela vai ter que ter paciência, não posso dizer que "sofri demais e por isso não confio mais em ninguém", isso é desculpa para os chorões, o que posso dizer é que sempre tive problemas em confiar nas pessoas e isso inclui a mim também. Portanto é um processo complicado e que pra muita gente não vale a pena o esforço. Mas pra ela vai valer, só preciso de uma não é?
A primeira etapa é pensar que relacionamentos podem dar certo.
A segunda é acreditar que a primeira também vale pra mim.
Ao mesmo tempo tenho que aprender a perdoar e arranjar uma forma parar de amplificar essa raiva que eu sinto de tanta coisa. O ideal seria diminuir, mas parar de amplificar já é um ótimo passo.
Vamos ver se dá pra terminar esse ano com pelo menos metade dos pontos previstos.


Pensar nisso te deixa tonto, é quase como se fosse a coisa mais exaustiva do mundo compartilhar esse tipo de pensamento.
Deve ser porque você ainda se importa demais com o que os outros vão achar de você.

Come out swinging

Tem vezes que eu solto o taco de baseball. Já não consigo mais rebater, já estou de joelhos e não sei direito o porquê de estar tentando desde o começo. Não sei. Não tenho mais forças pra erguer o taco pra voltar pra briga, mas ainda assim não solto.
Isso é coragem, ou é burrice?


—Drop the bat kid.
He dropped the bat, that voice was the only thing that seemed remotely close. The world vanished with every passing second. It was over. He didn't want to let it go, but it wasn't much of an option anymore. For better, for worse, it was over.

The hulking figure positioned itself at his side. Right leg a bit backwards, arms stretched. Whatever came unto him, would have to pass through it first. It could be said that using that bat to crush their skulls was merely symbolic, as it didn't need anything more than its muscular fists to do the job. But it had the bat. And it would use the bat until no one else dared to step towards his master.


—I don't know what's going on. What I do know, is that in a few seconds, the rooms you guys are inside are going to complete darkness, and you won't be alone. I don't know what, where or when they are going to attack. But I'll be here, do. Not. Give. Up.
—But what do we do?
—Get ready.
—R-ready?!
—You heard him, prepare yourself.
—It's happening. Now.
—Where are they coming from?!
—I don't know, I can't see from the screens!
—What do we do...?
—Just swing the bat. Swing it for your life, don't stop swinging. RUN!
...
—DO NOT STOP HITTING!

It backfires

É engraçado como a vontade de lutar cresce conforme o desastre se aproxima.

Também é curioso ver como você se sente afastado de qualquer pessoa.

Don't give up, but also do not wish for what you're not sure. Probabilities stack against it, whomever she gets to be.

A strange pattern

Weird dreams, weird dreams everywhere...
I have found a strange way of making it through fear during the weekend. It seems stupid I guess, but it worked. It's pretty simple, every time your mind focus on those ugly faces you're afraid of (in my case, the weird smiley ones), think how it must feel horrible for them to always be alone at night because people are afraid of them.
I developed compassion for gross characters and urban legends. Haha, damn...
On another note, it seems I have found out that forgiving myself is even harder than forgiving others. But that will come later.
Really not in the mood for writing any stories, but since I've promised myself to do it, here we go...


—When will daddy come home?
—He'll be home soon, sweetie.
That's the story of Adam, a little boy around seven or eight years old. It's almost ten hours, past meridiem. He should already be sleeping, as you may see, but a strange dream woke him up from his daily 9 p.m. sleep.
He still didn't tell his mother about it, though. His mind still processes the ideas. Sometimes when you are too afraid you get confused whether should you cry or not.
So for a while he just sits with his teddy bear at the sofa, close to his mother. She watches television, obliviously. Though somewhere down there, something feels weird, Adam doesn't wake up like that. "I want to see daddy", that's all he said. Perhaps weren't it for the program devouring her attention, she would be seriously worried about the situation.
Commercial break, she hugs her son and plays with his hair. He just holds his teddy bear, oh, its name is Mr. Pops by the way. Why did it receive its name is not the point right now. And by holding I mean keeping it close for dear life.
—Adam, would you like some warm milk?
—No...
His voice comes frail.
—I can put chocolate in it.
They look at each other in the eyes. She sees a dim light in her son's eyes.
—Okay.
It's still Adam, after all. And as if the enchantments of the television just vanished, she goes to the kitchen, planning what to do, starting to worry a bit more about what woke him up.
Not much after, she comes back from kitchen, a glass of warm milk with chocolate in it. A masterwork of motherly cuisine, I'd say.
He lets Mr. Pops go, keeping him by his side and grabbing the glass with both hands.
—So sweetie, did you have a bad dream?
A sip of milk.
—U-hu.
—Oh, sweetie, you know mommy and daddy told you nothing in your dreams could hurt you, right?
Another sip.
—And you always have Mr. Pops to make you company too, he wouldn't let anything harm you — his mother continued.
A large gulp this time. She kept looking at him with that face that seemed to be the perfect breed between a smile and a worried face.
—But it was a bad bad dream...
He spoke that with marks of milk around his mouth. Somewhat hard to take someone serious with those on their faces...
—You want to talk about it?
Adam looked at his mother. Perhaps the processing was over, because almost instantaneously, tears started rolling down his cheeks. She grabbed him closer.
—Don't worry sweetie, mommy is here, 'kay? You don't need to be afraid.
He finished drinking his milk.
—I know mommy, but I wanted daddy to be here.
—He must be coming home already, daddy's work ends around ten hours, remember?
—U-hu...
—So he'll be home soon. We can wait him here, you can watch TV with mommy until you sleep again.
—I just don't want to die.
These last words came stronger than everything else he had said that night. He spoke in a serious manner, it didn't even feel like his voice. That hit her like a truck.
—Adam, that's not going to happen. Don't... don't worry about it. We told you already that dreams are just dreams, even the bad ones.
She looked at his eyes, they were fixed at her. This time almost as if angry with her.
—I just wanted daddy to be here...
—I told you he must be almost home now — she made huge efforts now to keep her voice calm.
—...not the thing that wears daddy.
—What?! Adam, what did you dream? I told you dreams are just dreams, perhaps you got too impressed with some movie you watched.
—You know it's coming to kill us.
She opened her mouth, but no sound made its way. She wasn't prepared for such a change of mood.
They were so dragged by that conversation that the footsteps outside weren't noticed.
Now the key had entered the keyhole. It started to turn...

Who chooses who?

Fucking hell.
So, which chains did we get anyway?
Only the best, master!
Here, we have the Chains of the Tyrant, for those who force their dream into reality upon those who can't fight back. A bright blue with strange dark patterns in it. It is a strong one, who is keeping?
I'll have it.
You sure? These are pretty powerful and quite hard to wear. I thought someone to the likes of Hanitarian would want it.
You know he would never fight by our side. I can take it.
Well, if you insist.
Let's see, there's the Masterwork of Innocence, made by no one else than the master artisan, as an homage to the boy who sacrificed himself for the dreams of others to come true. I dare say only one of us has the right to get ahold of this one.
Sure we do, bring here the boy who waits at the stairs.

...

Uhm, hi sir.
Here you go boy, you will be the wearer of this one chain.
It looks pretty expensive.
You don't know the price it took to be made, kid.
Can I really have it?
If not you, then no one. Here, the clear green with shiny white gold marks is yours.
Well, thank you!
Next, the Destroyer. Perhaps the only chain that physically defies its bearer, they say the blood red spikes were colored by the blood of a thousand soldiers who dared to wear it. Physical strength at the cost of physical resistance for the one who believes to be able to handle the gray chains.
I don't believe I can handle, I just can.
Oh, I'm sure you do, Helz, you are.
Hehe, the only one of us who would be able to carry the weight I suppose — everyone around watched the hulky demon grab the chains and move back, watching solemnly above the heads of his fellows.
Let's see, I have one very special just around here...
...
Oh, the Guidance of Angels... — a strange silence hauled the area — ...well, you see... — some eyes faced him in confusion. A mess of anger and/or surprise — ...it is, I can explain...
You better be doing it soon.
I do understand that you all aren't much in harmony with them. Each one of you, for your own reasons. And I know both the name and the white color, with these golden writings, remind you of such reasons. But do not be fooled, these are here for a reason... it is said, that one of the strongest angels carried these with himself. And even though he questioned much of its existance, he never left behind those he promised to protect. I believe that is what is infused within these chains.
What if it's not?
WHAT IF, THAT'S JUST ANOTHER TRAP?! — a creature with a deformed face rose among the crowd. There were marks of burning all over his body, but the face was the worst, at some points it looked as if there was still some sort of acid dripping.
Well, I...
...
I suppose it's your turn now, master.
I see — he made his way to the core of the discussion right after. As always, all demons just stood and watched. For some reason, his presence always had this sort of reaction, perhaps it was because he didn't act much.
I trust this man, so you all could try just a bit.
Well, you could be the bearer of it, master!
Yeah! You're loyal and you won't burn to death in case it's all lies.
No one's burning, and the chain of loyalty does not belong to me — he looked back at his trail, no one dared close the path. There, not that far away, the four-legged creature watched, shyly. He stared at it, and it understood. As a dog that finally sees its owner after a long wait, it ran, sometimes clumsily hitting those around. It stood near its master, head inclined downwards. He put the chain around its neck, in a way not to be too tight, and also not too loose. It howled. — I believe no one here has an objection.
...
The Revenge.
It's mine.
Take it easy — the acid demon grabbed it, in a way, it felt like it was made for him. The mixture of green and orange, both in its most diseased appearance, made a chain that felt weak, poisonous, yet very powerful.
I guess that's it.
Well, seems like.
Nope, there's still one there!
No, there ain't no more chains that could be useful to you. These are the only special infused chains.
Lying to us, old man? — once again, things seemed to get worse.
I'm not lying when I say the useful ones are those.
Then... WHAT. IS. THAT. LAST. ONE. THERE?

...

I can't believe it.
The chains of hatred...
Master... — it felt just as they were back to that silent night. Watching the stars as The Sound of Silence played in his head.


Can we just fuckin' break it?
Or by asking it this way I have already set fate to zero?

The thousand stories mark

I've been reading a certain story involving a boy and a wolf. Seemed cool.
Makes me remember one of the things I wanted to do, write more. Simple as that. Guess I can do it since sleeping seems to be out of question. One freaking hour lying at bed with eyes closed, unfair.

Maybe we can get to a thousand stories, huh?

This one story is about a girl who liked snow globes. Those little glass spheres with liquid inside and smal pieces that resemble snow when you move it around. I suppose everyone here knows it, am I right?
So, we had this girl, who had a collection of snow globes. She had dozens of them, from simple snow globes of some tourist attraction, to big ones with much decoration outside of the globe itself. Some were even electric, you had to power it on in order to see the snow falling effect.
She was very proud of her collection, she even got some from places where there is absolutely no snow, areas with temperatures never going under 30 degrees celsius. Some even had snowflakes that shined, didn't even dare trying to resemble snow. She didn't like those very much, but still, they were snow globes. And every corner of the earth should have one for her.
In fact, sometimes it felt like the whole point of travelling was to have an opportunity of buying a new snow globe. Some of her friends had already told her that, she denied it. Sure, she loved 'em, but to think it had gone to that point, well that was a bit too much. She loved every single country she had been.
Or at least that's what she said to herself.
One very special night, before a trip to a volcano, she didn't get to sleep. She wondered about whether they would have one snow globe for her. It would be pretty unique, wouldn't it? Maybe a simple sphere with a small volcano in it, perhaps with the same flashy pieces you found in not so snowy snow globes.
She eventually got to sleep, with a smile on her face. Wondering.
The dark volcano, looking so ominous. It even had some sort of smoke coming out of its mouth. Funny, perhaps they used paper for that? Looked pretty, very well done indeed. She had to shake it. What if the snowflakes were also very well done? Why not? She had to!
It shaked, but nothing happened, no beautiful, nor ugly, snowflake came up. None. She felt strange, they had to fly! They had to fall! This just, wasn't right, you know?
Once again, it shaked.
"I hear something..."
What? She thought she heard someone saying that, very weakly. Far, far away. Once again, nothing flew, nothing fell. Just the same old high quality volcano, and the strange smoke coming out of it. If you paid enough attention, well, had she paid enought attention, she would notice that kind of effect can't be done with mere papers.
She felt angry, let down. This wasn't a snow globe, who cared if it had been so carefully crafted? It was nothing. NOTHING!
That last thought came a nervous shaking, a mix of hatred and disappointment.
Suddenly, screams. As loud as if dozens of people screamed right at her ears. She got scared, it was all too sudden and too scary. Their voices in terror, screaming as loud as they could for it seemed nothing else was there to be done. She got petrified.
But the snow globe remained there, it should have fallen to the floor, shattered maybe. Her heart pounded furiously. Unconsciously, a tear came from her left eye. She felt like screaming also, but she couldn't. Had she lost her voice?
She stared at the snow globe, it seemed even better now, in terms of quality. It had these little grains walking around, and you could see there were some houses close to the foot of the volcano. Grains...?
Those were people.
People running around in no visible pattern, holding to what they could. The volcano had now some yellowish and reddish animations in its smoke. She couldn't understand. Was it some kind of high technology snow globe? Activated, somehow, when you shaked it? She stared closer and closer, but it was just too strange.
Her heart jumped. She could clearly see those people now, the children crying, the parents scared. The weak ones being left behind, trampled. The vision set her in despair, she tried to scream "Stop!", and unwillingly shaked the globe once again. A small piece of reddish material went out of the volcano, like finally it worked as it was supposed to. She even forgot the screams, the little red snowflake flew. Dancing to her eyes, as a fairy that attracts a child by its magical movement. Flying, flying, falling, falling. Light as it could be, being moved by air itself. Nothing else. Falling, falling...
Burning.
It landed at the leg of an old man who screamed in pain. In a moment, there was a grotesque hole with blood, bones and flesh. A cauterization that sent chills down her spine.
Tears now rolled through her cheeks. What was going on?! Some of the people inside the globe stared above, as if they could see her. Some with angry faces, but mostly, with sad, suffering faces. Until one baby cried and all the faces turned fiendish, strange smiles melting their faces, sharp teeth. A howling from above...
They started growling, in a demented harmony that paralyzed her for a few seconds. She just wanted it all to go away, away. Some screamed at her, she could identify some voices, some words. They hated her. They said they would get her, they would torture her, they would kill her. They would burn her, and then burn the wounds.
GO AWAY!
She finally had the power to scream. And as she screamed, a million snowflakes got out of the volcano. Their atrocious chant became louder, and louder she screamed. The globe shaked, was it because of her or not, we'll probably never know. But not much longer, they all burned. It was all down to ashes and pieces of what was once people.
She once again cried, gulping sometimes. It looked horrible. Doesn't matter how much her eyes stared at the glass, it was over. She closed her eyes.
Two fiery hands involved her head, pressing against her eyes.
A loud scream. The night was back, the trip was tomorrow. She sat on the bed, touching the floor with both feet, sweating.


Did she crumble?
Crumble?
Yeah, as in, suddenly her back got crushed and her upper half fell downwards...
Hm... I don't think so, why do you ask that?
I just pictured it happening.
Well, I pictured something happening involving a volcano, what if, huh?
Nah, she dying out of nowhere would be nicer!
Haha, it's time to sleep kid.
But, but, I want more! Where did you find that story?
In my head. We all have stories in our heads, we just need to connect the dots.
Is there a final thought? I mean, some message this story should give us?
Hm... let me see... maybe...
?
Let's say the message is "be careful of what you wish".
Hmm...
What you say?
Could have been something with more impact!
Haha, maybe, maybe. Now, bed!

Maybe if we collect stories, it gets easier to handle the wait.
I promised to do my best. Can't go back, nor do I want it.
Good night.

Chains

O que eu acho engraçado, é que você se força a ficar sempre na miséria, eu não sei porque. Eu não entendo o que se passa na sua cabeça. Sinceramente.
Mesmo barco então. Também não entendo, apesar de mais de uma década tentando quebrar cada nova barreira que era colocada entre eu e meu suposto objetivo. Chega um ponto em que você começa a se perguntar se realmente tem um objetivo, ou se é só uma razão pra não ficar parado.
E... não há resposta, certo?
Perfeitamente.
É engraçado você gostar que as pessoas se preocupem com você, e ao mesmo tempo querer que ninguém se preocupe. É como se...
Como se...?
Você não soubesse o que você realmente gosta. Ou talvez não importa o que aconteça, você vê o lado ruim da coisa. Não me leve a mal, eu ainda sei que você tenta ver o lado bom das coisas, PROS OUTROS. E isso me incomoda.
Então quando se preocupam comigo, eu estou sendo uma criança problemática que não sabe cuidar de si mesma. E quando não se preocupam...
Você se sente sozinho, como um animal num matadouro.
Oh.
Oh, digo eu.
Então, quer que eu comece a pedir desculpas pras pessoas? Toda vez que eu pedir opiniões sem ter a intenção de mudar de ideia?
Não, não creio que seja isso que vá realmente mudar as coisas. Embora se eles se sentirem mal por você fazer isso, pode ser um começo.
O que eu faço então?
Faça o seu melhor. Acha que é legal pra eles assistir você repetindo a mesma merda vez após vez e caindo de joelhos? Pelo amor a sei lá o que você tenha amor, não caia dessa vez. Se decidir ir até o fim, vá até o fim fazendo o que é o certo. Já é difícil o suficiente sobreviver por aqui sem terceiros minando a sua cabeça.


Chains.
Which one do you choose, master?

While I gaze at the stars

Hello.
Hello, boy.
...
...
Well, I suppose you know why am I here.
Hm... do YOU know why you are here?
Eh...
As I thought — and as those words left his mouth a complacent smile showed on his face.


—Don't get any closer, he needs that space.
—But, he seems blue.
—We all seem blue, and that's what it is now.
The shadow of the night took over the place. It was night after all, and the only lights as far as the eyes could see (from this room and any other room with a window in the house), were the street lights. Beautiful, anyway. He stood there at the living room, watching through the big window. The group of shadows that could barely be seen watched. Some in statical position, as if they witnessed a unique moment in history. Others impatiently moving, annoyed by not knowing what would happen. Eyes worried. Eyes wearing the shade of fear. Solemn eyes.
The creatures waited. And as one of the wise ones noticed, the boy looked at the stars. They were there, somehow, visible to human eyes.
—Hello darkness, my old friend...
Those who walked, stopped. It was the first time he spoke since he woke up that strange night.
—...I've come to talk with you again...
The tall figure, focused his eyes where the man looked. All the small stars, shining above. He knew what were those words. He knew the song.
Those who did not recognize the song at first looked at each other, in the hope of finding answers. A big four-legged creature silently wailed. It felt the sadness in the air, it felt the sadness of its master. That moment lasted for a incredibly fast eternity.
—Can't we do anything?
—We are already doing.
—What are we doing here? Watching as he crumbles in confusion?!
—We wait for orders. If I have to tell you what to do when someone needs some time to think, then you're better out for now. He took Daven to the portal. We protected him during the flight, during the travel. Strange things happened, things that weren't predicted. We did act by force where it was due. Now we wait, we plan, we follow master.
—Daven should be here.
—But he ain't. He was supposed to go somewhere else, maybe he is there, somewhere in the stars. Who knows.
—I don't believe in this thing of stars watching over us.
—When did I say you believed? The one who watches the stars now is him, not you. What matters is what he believes, or what he feels.
Even though they spoke in whispers, these last words were followed by a sigh that could be heard across the room. Right after it, a shameful silence, worried about disturbing he who watched the stars.
—Fools said I, you do now know, silence like a cancer grows...
Some sat at the sofa. Staring at the floor. None dared disturb, for even though confusion and a strange shadow of what would come next haunted them, there was still hope. "It does feel a bit frustrating, being able to destroy everything would be easier than having to rethink everything, yet again. But I guess this was the best way", those words echoed in the mind of a large, chain-wielding creature, whose lidless gray eyes could inarguably be spoken of as the most fixed at their master. Albeit the agressive look, the gaze showed compassion.
And the song came to an end.
The hulky four-legged minion crossed the silence, slowly. The others kept behind, watching. It stood at the left of its master, in a sleeping position, yet aware.
—What if he can't come back of this state? What if we stay in here forever?
Those words attracted two of the most anger ridden eyes that ever existed. It could be said, that for a short moment, a small part of the room got illuminated by a fiery red light. Clumsily, the two went away from the living room, a hand pressing furiously against an arm.
—What's the problem of staying here forever?
—We need to do something.
—THEN YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN, that we waited an eternity for master to come. And that master is human, so for him there is no ''forever'' in waiting terms.
A deep breath.
—Not only that, YOU ALSO FORGOT THAT WE'RE HERE FOR HIM, AND YOU ALSO FORGOT, THAT HE DEPENDS ON US, AS WE DEPEND ON HIM. And all that happened before. And entering the gates of hell, as one. I suppose you don't understand the importance of our mission, is that so?
—I just, don't quite u-understand.
—We help him, he helps us. What is the problem with that? What is the matter with you?
—I don't like this, what if he decides for the wrong path?
—Then we will go through the wrong path, and the end, we'll see what path shall we take. And we may end in the wrong place again. We may miss a holy thousand times. If that's what it takes, then we'll have it. You should have known better.
—I see...
Silence and darkness. A hundred eyes. A dozen stars.
—I think I'm sleepy again.
Loyalty nodded.


Are we shot dead this time? I can hear the noise and the confusion outside my head. I can feel the steps bombarding the ground, screams so distant it seems like a song held back.
I'm lying on the ground, stupid. Wondering what comes next. I see her face, also there, by my side, on the ground. She seems happy, somehow, as if her wounds don't affect her. I don't understand. Anything. Yet she smiles at me, in a shy way. I can hear what she says, but I can get the words accordingly. I should rise. A soft hand touches my cheek. She's still there, always there.
...
I don't understand.


Full steam ahead.

Where will lies

With the usage of epic music and a few characters in mind.
We are back.
Let not despair triumph in our realm. For it is ours. And only, ours.

Robo did not mourn forever being thrashed by those of his kind. Instead, he moved forward and even got new friends. They even defeated Lavos and saved the world.
They say we are better than machines, for we can feel and they can't. I don't think this serves in this case. We aren't machines, we can't be machines, but we can still follow the path of one of the best machines that ever set a foot on this world.

I really want to write stories once again.

Brace to face

That's how the world ends, with envy, hatred, greed and misery. I knew it all along, I just...
Close your eyes, pretend it's a sacrifice charge toward the future of the ones you care for. The car will hit another car, and then it's over. Just close and believe.
Brace to face, kid. The laughter of the crowds as your pieces fall apart. Crumble to the reality you cannot withstand. All powers align.

They must be crying "I am satan". But I remember the guy with the knives in the table, he said he was the devil as he had fun with that knife, and pointing it at me while showing his real face!
What a coincidence. I guess all the devils joined our club tonight.
He he heh...

For all odds, we are alone now.
And alone we go, ahead, and back, and back.
Fear no evil for loneliness shall be the root of all evil.
All that is us shall not be harmful.
As we cross the valleys of insanity, no hope shall be brought.
Or there born, for hope is born from the weakness of belief.
Belief of company, which is the throne of lies.
Thou shall not hate those who appear of appearances.
And whose images bring thoughts through the eyes.
For that is the key to confusion, let them pass and live as they should.
If in sadness you lose your ground, close your eyes.
And always avoid to look around.

There. Is. No. Magic.

12 Stranded Street

The perfect birthday gift?
I dunno. I could just say "show up".

I'll refrain from saying bad things about August 12. I don't hate it, it's just a hyped anxiety mixed with sadness and disappointment.

Can we pretend we are in the world?

London Bridge is going down, going down...

Engraçado ter tudo e não ter nada, né?
Talvez o choque dessa viagem sirva para abrir os olhos.
Não adianta ficar sobre a ponte olhando as luzes e confabulando abismos, nesse quesito estamos sozinhos. E eu não sei como enfrentar a incapacidade de socialização. Nem sei quais lutas são para serem lutadas sem ajuda externa. Não vamos pular da ponte, seja por medo ou por achar essa uma ação de idiotas.


É engraçado. Happiness only real when shared.
Só temos as luzes que vemos sozinhos.
Será que chorar ajuda? Como compartilhamos? Como eu faço? Como conseguir companhia? Eles vêem o que eu vejo? Como eu faço pra ser que nem eles? Me ensina a dançar? Me ensina a aproveitar as explosões e as luzes enquanto todos aproveitam? Me ensina a explodir e parar de implodir? Segura a minha mão enquanto vemos as luzes?
Parece bobeira. Talvez tudo pareça quando nada tem muita validade.
E tudo no final se torna destruir.


Foi pra isso que eu nasci então?

Devastation

So...
Here we are.
Again.
Yet it is not the same place.
But, familiar.
As they say, welcome to devastation.
And we are all devastated men.
Or devastated boys.
Whatever suits your self-image.
This was quite a week, huh?
Well, yes, it was fun.
For real?
Well, I liked it.
What else?
What else what?
Soooomething else...

Oh, you again.

I like to see the sky like this, it's been a while ever since I saw it for the last time. In here, the real world. It feels as if we still have something to defend, a sky that looks so good in being minor and telling few things, yet leaving the great experience to be felt, hidden, somewhere out there. As we strafe sidewards, watching it, as a movie, as a game, as a show. As it was, and will, someway, be. For us, in reality.

Do we have something to fight for?

You draw the heart. You fill it. Words of your choice. Put your feelings. THE ONES THAT DWELL INSIDE YOUR. HEART.
Do as you wish, as long as it is a heart, as long as those are emotions, feelings, whatever you feel in a way that is not purely mechanical or understandable.
SHOW WHAT YOU REALLY ARE.
...
Is that it?
WHAT DO I REALLY FEEL?
YOU NEVER TOLD ME HOW SHOULD I FEEL AND WHAT SHOULD I FEEL, YOU NEVER TOLD ME HOW WOULD IT FEEL TO FEEL.
Hatred was born as I was, and it will always be a part of it.
But the heart was divided between others, for I don't know... anything.
What is it that I feel? How does happiness feel? Is the money making me happy? AM I HAPPY WITH THESE PEOPLE? WHY AIN'T I FEELING AS IF I'M GOING TO EXPLODE?
We lack lack lack lack things.
I am afraid.
There we have the heart.
...
It is. Full.
There is fear. Dominant as a leader of fourth the power.
Never losing control, watching silently. Even though it lost its fun power, it's rage maintained through the years. Your shyness is a sign of it. The brutality in which relationships ravaged your thoughts serves as a harbinger for fear. Do you think you will ever come back?
I hope so.
Even though I say no, I hope. I will someday find the she that is worth taking a sword and shield and honoring all those who fought by me and all the giants I've met. One that will make two become the greates force of destruction, guided for good, at least once. For a king has to serve its people, as they serve him. And my people have served me for far too long without any reward.
There is anger. For there is no sign of any forgiving measures. Although there are.
But they are just too few in a sea of pure demise. And we sometimes get to be dead within ourselves. One who does not live, dead shall be. And we scream, hour after hour. The fourth of the land that abides the law of hatred, the first, and only.
BUT WE CAN WIN. STILL.
But to say that thought, anger was used. Can we use evil to finish evil? Or to just become another evil to take the throne? Is the throne really that good? Why not?
You've fought fear with anger, you've fought cold with anger, you've fought sadness with anger. To become a machine, anger took your heart, and in exchange you took its unstoppability. And hatred became the law. And the criminal. And the judge.
I try to forgive.
This is war, not union. THERE HAD TO BE UNION! THERE NEVER WAS!
There is... something that was but can't be remembered. Has it ever been there in the first place? But it is anguish. Squishing its fourth of land. Giving birth, secretly to those who help fear. Showing reality as it is not real, only in case it ever was. Showing, what wants to be shown. By the powers that be. In case, you.
IT ALL STARTED WITH YOU, IT IS YOUR FAULT THAT A PART OF THIS KINGDOM FELL.
...Crumble...
No. It only falls if there is no more shots to be given. And once a shot hits the target, we win. Dizzy or not, tired or not, in pain or not. We shoot. We get hurt, like the plague. We get sad. Because it is all inside our head, and the rule was that every emotional pain should devastate much more. Every psychological would drive us toward a psycho instance of self-defense, that would end just destroying ourselves. They all run out afraid when one's defense is an attack that evokes defense ad infinitum. Til' resources last.
But we shoot. Slowly. GIVE. ME. STRENGTH.
There is. Something more. The three couldn't be a lord for the last fourth, for the land couldn't be taken by discouragement, or disappointment. Nor shame. It is it. Which can be advocated by past.
And this one, shall take its toll.
As it is already taking. It. Is. Destroying. Us.
While it lives, no real action on forgiving shall live. You will keep wanting to cry.
We can't fight the past.
But we can acknowledge it, and thus come back to the present.
Who. Cares?
...
What is this heart? Where are the good feelings?
JUST TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK ARE THE GOOD FEELINGS. How do I know I'm feeling them? And not just fake emotions that can leave me behind.
Can they be fake?
I don't know. But I feel like there's more. People look just so happy, WHY?
WHY AM I NOT?!

Pff... destroy.

My arms feel weak, breathing is hard and not rewarding. I'm dizzy. I don't know.

For real. My left arm is hurt, somehow, the forearm aches in certain points during certain activities, that's all I know.
My belly sometimes becomes a continuous pain, and I don't know how to define exactly where and what is it. But I got some ideas, maybe it is the food. Well not the food but my eating behaviour. It has to change. And it will. I feel weak. Head aches sometimes, not much. Eyes feeling dry, sometimes like burning, it's not much.

Now I feel like I want a hug. Just a fucking hug. But a real and lasting one. Til' I'm not so afraid anymore.

In this sea of strange things, all is weird and none is weird. Weird, huh?

I tried to do so much, but I understand the problem now. I want, everything. Always. I failed some of the people I tried to meet this week. I got there pretty fucking late and that is unacceptable. I LIKE TO BE ALWAYS ON TIME, WHY DIDN'T IT WORK, WHY?!
I feel like apologizing but I don't believe in apologizing, I don't think it's pride. It's just that saying is too easy and it doesn't seem to mend things. But I don't exactly how to mend things I just... keep going at a stupid rate.
I didn't finish the works I said I would. I failed, big time. I hold myself, in order not to hate, not to bring myself down. I need to get up.
But I'm sorry.
And I wanted to do everything, to get more things and keep the old ones. To have the old ones improve.
I could scream lightnings.
My arms can smash reality.
My eyes melt worlds.
I. Explosion.

I can't show. You can't show.
How are we going to swim back to safety? It's never true if we can't trust truth.
Lies. Cakes.
And we win. But is that good? Are we good?
How can we not be them? And being everyone alike, there should be no more lies. Yet, something is wrong at its core. Or not, and the truth is we were made to destroy ourselves. Be it man or woman, be it black or white, be it, whatever it is. The past destroyed the future. Future's death poisoned the present.
But I don't want to believe it. Maybe it's because it hurts me somehow, it makes me sad.
Can I keep believing that someday people will stop this?

Hold my hand, just hold my hand in unicorn land.
For I am to afraid to come back to what was before, and you are too kind to ignore.

Is it make or break?
Argh. Yelling is stupid.

I just know that, if we don't take the judges down, the fires will turn us to ashes, and all else there is to be turned. Judgement stops, or we stop.
I'm sorry for being such a bad person in this aspect. I play so much as a judge.
They work around the clock, you work inside. Remember that funny game in which there were cats and a mouse?
I will stop judging. And then I will stop judging me. And then... something good will happen. As far as it goes, this empty promise is all I can give, for I've never been to the other side. I've never met a world without the judgement of fire.

I dreamed about my dogs a few days ago. I cried as I ran toward their spectres in the grass behind the house. I screamed the loudest I could. But I couldn't touch them. I am guilty. And for now I can't write a post that makes this and them justice.
Can I ever forgive myself?

A verdade é que eu não me sinto tão ansioso pra essa viagem. Talvez não da forma que as pessoas se sentem antes de viajar, principalmente para um país tão longe. Eu talvez me acostumei com tudo ser fácil, mas nem nas coisas difíceis eu vejo graça. Alcançar se tornou se decepcionar. Nada é como eu penso que era. Talvez o parafuso que falta seja o da expectativa realista. Eu quero mais, eu queria que fosse, algo incrível como algo me mostrou que era. Que seria.
Mas não é.
Eu só posso lutar até a morte pra fazer com que seja. Mas a dúvida é o que mata. Não um esqueleto vestindo uns panos velhos pretos. Vai valer a pena?
Eu já disse que valeria para aqueles que continuassem lutando, aos que estivessem ao meu lado quando a destruição jogasse a toalha.
Eu tenho dúvidas.
Eu tenho medo.
Eu consigo me focar quando junto toda a raiva, não em algo simples e de forma fechada a alcançar um objetivo. Mas me focar em ser cego para a dor. Mas eu não sei direito o que vale. Embora a sensação de invulnerabilidade seja muito boa.
É, eu tenho medo de que eu não aproveite tão bem a viagem. Eu não sei como aproveitar bem, qual é o melhor? O que deve ser feito? Eu só penso que queria andar por aí e às vezes ficar parado e relaxar no frio.
Talvez o parafuso que falte seja ouvir a mim mesmo e não ao que os outros querem que eu ouça.
O vazio cresce. Muito mais rápido que o resto. Mas...
Mas porra nenhuma. Eu consegui há pouco tempo para de culpar a mim mesmo por tudo. Não é tudo minha culpa, vocês fuderam este mundo e vão continuar fudendo ele.
Agora temos que manter isso e seguir em frente.
A quem eu falhei essa semana, minhas sinceras desculpas se ler isso faz algo melhor. De resto, obrigado. Foi uma semana divertida, eu quase cheguei a dizer que me senti feliz.
Talvez morrer tentando achar o algo não seja tão ruim. Se não estiver na Escócia, pode estar no Japão, pode estar na Noruega... alguma hora eu acho.
Minha cabeça vai explodir.

Are we still hunting dragons?
No. Something bigger.
Unicorn moose?!
Perhaps.


And the two continued riding their horses toward the mountains. In a land where swords and armors mattered more than brands and noisy lights at night. Where unicorns, to some, existed. And dragons, were just a matter of how much can you invest in dreams.
And hell... followed.