Clockstopper

Have you ever felt as if you had all the guns in the world? Yet at the same time, no gun in the world could help you?
It's this funny.
A lot of things just float around in my head, yet I'm here. Supposedly doing my job. I ain't doing no job, don't feel like I am. Sometimes you just wake up weird I guess. What are we lacking?
Maybe we are just lacking the end of our final project, or perhaps the beginning, and also what comes between those two. I don't know.
In the mean time, allow me to tell a story. I know I shouldn't but I guess it makes me feel better. And perhaps, it's all about feeling better.


So, there was a boy walking on the side walk. He tripped. And for once, he didn't got up. He stood there with his hands holding the ground, as if something bad would happen in case he let it go. As if the world depended on that, as a great scar on the ground threatened to part the world in two.
Facing the ground as the day passed through him. As people walked around, birds flew, the sun shone, his mind dug deeper.


As I see these lights calling me, the colors in the sky when the sun starts to leave us. As I see this world moving, and moving, and moving. There's something wrong. And I don't know what is it.
But it has to stop.

Fire at will

Fear? You think that what roams free around here is fear? Fear is normal, as normal as grass growing below your feet.
This is bellowing despair, my fellow gentlemen, and this time, shit will blow up.


It's almost as if you were defeated. Except for the fact you haven't fought yet.


Knelt down, throat malfunctioning, breathing with effort, heart pounding in pain...
...
They won, I guess.
...
What. A. Shame. *grins*


You know what's worst? The worst part about all this is that I failed those to whom I promised things would get better. I kept all this reward thing as word-only. Doesn't matter how much I could care about failing things in the university or work. And I do care, I know it's important. But I feel I for the most part, failed being a friend. It's not getting better, it's getting a bigger failure, and I'm afraid. Afraid I can't reward them as much as they deserved.
Well, then, it's your lucky turn.
What?
You have the chance of turning the table, taking that bitter taste off your mouth. Winning, and then going to them, to offer their deserved roles in this victory.
I don't think I can do it.
There's two important points in this thing. It's either believing in yourself, or simply taking your words out of the fire. Can't do it for yourself? Do it for them. Prove it's not a defeat. Remember that phrase, you try, you fail, and then you fucking try again, and again, and again, and fail, again, and again. Because life sometimes ain't about winning, but about failing so much better that to everyone else it's a victory.
I just wanted to be as good as them.
As I said, you've just gotten lucky. Now get some blood in these hands, your daily lions aren't going to commit suicide. You have to man up and bring 'em down.


You know what's funny?
What's funny?
Even after all this time, you still come all this way to help me.
When things start to get so bad even a lord of hell can't sleep, the least you have to do is be there, even if crumble together is all you get to do.
I told you I'm not a lord of hell.
Then you really need help, because even those have already lost the ability to sleep.


And soon night falls over the front.
Night is good.

A grieving burden

It's sad to be the bringer of bad news, isn't it?
It is, indeed. But... at least it gives some sort of advantage.
Advantage?
Well, follow my train of thought. You are the one with the burden of telling the bad news, therefore, others do not know them. That gives you an advantage point.
But it doesn't matter, they are still bad news and I know they will be sad when they hear it, well, even I will.
Yeah... but at least you have some time to think about how you're going to bring it.
I'm not a very good grief reliever, I'd rather just bomb it down. That's how I prefer to receive bad news.
To each his own, I guess.

But I remember you were quite happy early this day.
I was, it's funny how waking up early on a cold sunny day lifts the spirits.
Is it fair for one bad notice to put it all at risk?
Well, it is quite a bad one.
Then it may be fair.
I guess it is.
But I'd like you to remember one thing you used to say to yourself.
Which is?
You can mourn over a sad happening, but only once.
What if this one time mourning takes a long time?
Up to you.
This sucks.
Indeed. But it is not carved into stone, sooner or later, it goes away.
But I don't know what to say, you can't deny the existence of a bad entity after it's said.
I know, but you gotta try. If there is something you ought to already have known is that people can take it. Perhaps that is one of the few perks of being an adult, you get to know bad things aren't forever. Well, I dunno. I just wanted to help you out somehow boy, but it is really up to you.
I know. But it's sad still.
As sad as it may be, it can't stop time. Also, the sky is still there for us, remember that. Fear not what may happen if you speak in times like these, as long as you do it willing for the best. Fear not trying to go through. Then it stops. And you stop, again.
Heh...

Also, you have a story about a father and his son to write.
But I also got work to do.
To each his own.

Support fire, part 1

And I can smell the same pitiful scent of loss from your soul.
Perhaps what you smell is your own fear. Ever thought about it?
Insolent fool... How dare you talk like this to me?
It's simple...
Simple? I see. You're trying to keep your spirit by lying to yourself. You'll share the same fate as your friend.
Will I? And what proof do you have that you have killed him? You're nothing more than a lie rebuilding itself in order to tackle on people's fears.
What?!
As far as we know, he disappeared...
I KILLED HIM!
Prove!
THIS IS THE PROOF!
...
Anything familiar in this locket?
...
You will rot... Just like him...


You said it was feasible, you said I could do it!
And I meant it!
But you lied...!
When did I lie?
You said he wasn't killed!
He wasn't...
Falz has the locket, he killed him.
What does that prove?!
Where else would he get that locket?!
I don't know.
...!


It's strange to fight against the fear of failing.
Very strange indeed. Perhaps the few words of help we can actually hear are the ones we magically imbue.
I don't know what are yours, but I can only repeat in my head "Come out swinging!".
And boy does it work.

I can see the rails

Enjoy your stay.

I wonder whether they say that before locking you in jail. Maybe if they are in a sadist mood. It's a bit sad when things seem to strive against their original plans. But that's not the thing. The thing is I am still behind in the organization aspect. I haven't even paid attention to the resolutions I made for last year, not even to mention the new resolutions. But I'm aware of it.
I guess being aware of things is a first step. Although being ever so conscious of things can be quite dangerous. It makes you think, it makes you count every detail of what is going on, what has already past and what will perhaps come to play. And that quite sucks sometimes. Being conscious that you are perhaps doing something out of laziness or something else. You know, when you feel like you know why you're doing something but you prefer to tell yourself that you are not. You're just, doing something, like normal people do. It may be wrong, or right, but you're doing, for the sake of it.
I don't think that made itself pretty clear.
I wonder if our essence is really something important. As in, I'm vengeful, and pretty much of an angry child. Ever since I can remember, although in the past I could, every now and then, explode. I guess that's me, well, part of it, that's not the big picture but a relevant part of it.
I don't know exactly why am I thinking this ''who we are'' thing. Perhaps because of Daytripper. I guess I really have got to read more.

Foul ball, haha.

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.