Gripping

I wonder if the results would be worth the fight. It's true that most journeys are greater than their destinations, but are some efforts a sign of naivety?
I still haven't fully grasped the fact that we're adults now. Hell, I can't bear to accept I'm an adult.
Is it worth the trials, to lit candles that feel as cold as indifference, or to fight while under an illusion of frosts while the world lives on its dim heat? Am I fighting for something or for the past version of something? Is it the memory of old that reigns over me?
And is there any way of bearing this knowledge other than going head on? Do I need the scars to know the size of a fight? Or is it that I've only known one way of doing it, and never got to research the alternatives?
Does it really feel this good or is it a craving of what's long lost? And how could I face the fact of it being lost? I've counted all the times I've thought about using the vile coin in order to keep you nearby, all the things I could do to help, or at least try. It amounts to much, but it has been under control for all these years. You don't need this kind of help, but it feels like it's the biggest punch I can pack.


Have I, after all, not learnt anything?

Bleak void

He rushed inside.
At first it seemed like just another post-stroll return, but right after calmly opening the door (as always, no stress on unlocking the door), he simply bolted into the room.
It was uncanny. Barely having a glimpse on his face, one could notice he was beyond startled. What sort of ghosts roam around the block at 11 a.m.? With lots of passersby and cars showing up constantly.
Following through a corridor into another room, he could be found scavenging through the drawers.
— What the hell is going on?
These words found deaf ears. He kept on digging through the items, to no avail, then opening the next one.
— Where is it?
He muttered to himself. Angry at those pesky drawers that hid his treasure.
As his hands moved into the next knob, he found the drawer locked. Not by any locks or lack of key, but by a hand that helt it firmly. Only then had he noticed someone stood by his side.
— So, what the hell is this?
— Where is it?
He asked louder, yet in the same despair. It was as if a shadow had replaced me. His eyes didn't focus anywhere.
— Where is what?
He pulled harder, but it wouldn't budge.
— It won't open for as long as you act like that.
— I just need my chains.
— What?!
— My chains, where are my chains?!
The hands left the knob alone. But were still tense. Had he raised 'em a little, that'd probably meant a threat. But those eyes couldn't fight.
— I know where they are...
He noticed my presence.
— ...But why do you need 'em?
The eyes had focused by then. Slowly that confusion seemed to fade away, only to bring in something more daunting. His face trembled in a blend of sadness and fury.
— I... I don't know...
— Well you seemed to know just a while ago.
— They are mine, why does it matter to you?
— Well, as long as this place's peace seems tainted by your behavior, it matters a lot.
— I'm doing this for the better!
— So you know, then.
Fury seemed to be overtaking sadness.
— I need it. It's mine.
— That's fine, now you just gotta say why do you need it. You've been walking unchained for quite a long time. Why is it necessary now?
He gazed at me. Undeterred.
— So...? Why is it?
That moment felt like an awkward game of who stares angrier.
But victory was defined the moment he imploded. Instead of a slow fade, his face changed to a full-blown moroseness. A stream formed by the left eye.
— It's okay. I knew something was off...
— It's not okay...
He started. Words ceased as a solemn minute of silence.
— I was walking today... And I was feeling a bit weird... Because we couldn't gather people... No matter what event happens... People don't seem to bother...
Sentences were intertwined with brief sulking moments.
— And I think that's okay... Because everyone's got their lives... But it feels a bit like... Like...
Now both eyes formed streams.
— Nobody cares anymore... But I can't do anything about it... And that's okay...
— It is. Now, I know you wanted to gather everyone just like the old days, but, as time goes by, paths change. I'm aware you know this, and I'm glad.
— Yes...
Something still didn't fit.
— But... Why the chain?
— I... I was feeling frustrated. I've been feeling frustrated for some time...
The eyes now seemed to be facing an abyss.
— I was walking... Around the block... There was this man passing by me... And I felt...
The abyss got deeper.
— I heard... That voice... It told me to punch his face...
Engulfing light even above itself.
— And, that was okay... Because it's just a voice...
Bleak void.
— But I felt like it... The voice made me happy... Like when you think about doing something you like... It brings pleasure... Seemed reasonable.
— I see now...
— I need the chain.
— As much as that sounds sane, I must decline to help. Bearing them won't do you any good.
— It will do others good!
— I'm not letting you chained for life.
— Neither can you fix me.
— If it ain't broken, it needs no fix.
— But I don't wanna hurt people!
— Then don't.
He left the discussion, demolished. It wasn't the expected outcome, it could be seen in his eyes. He felt disheartened. Even the help that could come from this house, turned absent.


There's no need in justifying my reasons. I'm not leaving him to the chains. Though I might be proven wrong in the future, I'm still betting on my senses. He will find a way, the voices should never command one's will. Nor should one's beliefs be smeared by a period of frustration.

Wonder wonder

I come to wonder why am I feeling this way, toward people talking about social engagement. 
Been thinking about the salaries we receive and how it doesn't feel like we honor it.
This makes me sad.
World seems too messy and I don't have the tools to clean what's in front of me, let alone what lies beneath.
It looks as if the inverse hipster behavior is mixing with distrust of social stuff and demagoguery, as if "I liked something AFTER it wasn't cool anymore" wasn't enough.
Maybe it all went down the moment you thought what people said meant something. Maybe your error was to think people knew anything other the scent of their asses.
I really wanted to feel the hype others feel. I would enjoy music and movies, and maybe even games, more.
Or maybe I don't really want it but the idea of fitting in easier is on the rise.
I wonder how can people keep on this masquerade game of being so sure and pointing fingers. Maybe it's because they are mostly pointing fingers to groups. That way your finger can always be pointing to the right target, even though there are a shitload of wrong targets around.
Perhaps... all that came from hating being told what to do, or how to be.

All that is left is wonder, wonder.

Beacon

Larga esse peso que não te pertence.
Vê se esse olho brilha novamente.
Foca no que reluz.
E esquece o que te reduz.

Lembra de tudo que já passou.
Não esquece que o tempo não parou.
E marca a parte que te importa.
Na frase que tanto você repete.

Às vezes a causa não é tão importante.
Percebe a consequência e muda o rumo.
Mas por favor não fique aqui.
Isso não é você.

E mesmo indefinido.
Saiba que não está perdido.
Saber a negativa.
Ainda é uma parte do caminho.

E tenha a certeza.
Que na pior alternativa.
Você devolve o olhar.
E sabe que ela te admira.


I can't come up with catchy phrases or action hero's comebacks. I feel ashamed that I let it go that way. Kinda forgot what I did, and why I did, and how I did. For a while it seemed like the big bad bleak space could never be filled if not for a complete realization. Even though completeness is pretty much a state of mind of he who realizes.
I kinda forgot.
Kinda forgot that even though anyone could achieve what I'm achieving, or even further, and even better, it still took me to achieve it. Not any of you. You did nothing, and if you could do better, that brings your score even lower for wasting potential.
So long and don't bother coming after. 

Grand Chariot

This sucks.
I didn't even remember to say how pretty your hair looked.
All these chances going down the drain.
I don't understand why I feel so worried. I worry about everything. About things that shouldn't be worried about. About adults that are grown up already and can take care of their lives. Way better than me.
Worrying about things that aren't into my reach. I worry about things in the future.
And some in the past.
I worry about working too much and not taking time to enjoy the moment but at the same time if I enjoy it too much I ain't producing.
I need to work, I need to finish this thing so I can go to where I have to be.
But then if that's where I have to be why am I losing time here right now.
I don't know, maybe it's necessary.
I can't let this one also down.
It can't stay on the wake. It needs its own way.
I'm giving it a way.
I guess.

Stupid body.

Your day

I just can't seem to forget the day we took that Uber ride.
I don't think you remember what you said or what happened around, except for the soundtrack. I've been thinking about it. True, I thought most about it when it was still recent.
I never spoke about it to anyone because I'm not sure how to say it. Not the smartest cookie in the jar when it comes to explaining things that are mostly felt.
You probably remember the soundtrack, that would be my best bet. Something jazzy and christmasy, even though there would still be almost 2 months before said date. If I were to remember anything, it would be that I was a bit angry at the driver because he drove carelessly. Those weren't the best streets indeed, so a rather bumpy ride is to be expected. But the way he changed lanes ferociously during early night time, that seemed too reckless for me. And I worried you might be disliking it somehow. Not exactly feeling insecure or anything, well I guess I felt you were unsafe on that situation and it became reality, for me at least.
But.
You turned to me and said something.
At first I didn't understand because I was shrouded in my worries. I wondered if you said something about his driving style, it seems like when we are too focused on something we think everyone else has their thoughts in resonance to ours.
But you were... joyful.
Once you repeated I understood.
You told me to put on his review... "excellent playlist".
That kinda disarmed me. Indeed the songs were good. But I was focused something else. You see, I don't even remember where were we going. I know the rain poured, and that I was unsettled due to his actions behind the wheel.
Then I was disturbed by how focused I was on the negative side of the ride. I, who like car rides and looking at the city's lights through the windows, blurred by the rain.
We were going somewhere fun. The days were being fun, travelling and all.
And at first I had already noted the songs. Approved. But it was all for naught due to an imperfection that would occur later.
Still not sure how to react to it. If that attitude is to be protected, held away from all harm that can come from this world. Or simply, appreciated, for harm is a constant, and it shouldn't be the highlight. Though I'm not sure I'd be good at mimicking that lifestyle.
It sure is cute though.

It started with the Master

Feels like dragging.
I've come to realize that expectations are being created even if I'm not aware of it. It's a self-backstabbing. When you feel like you don't want to carry on about the cycle's end, because in the end there will be another beginning. And all will be the same.

You realize it gets lonelier. But it's all your fault because you expected people to gather. And you don't know exactly why was that reunion so anticipated if nothing was ever discussed. It was, thin air. Becoming solid misery.
And that voice always warned you. We live alone. We are alone. You've strayed from the path when you made that choice. Because you thought that all that area could be fulfilled with people. But you did not consider that you cannot work well with people. People bore you. People tire you. And sooner or later you won't be able to give your all to them. So you cannot possibly expect something in return.
The voice warned you. Those words came not for omens, or for division. It came to help you. Because it hurt too.
But you've learned in the past, that being hurt is important. It teaches you not to delve deeper into what brings you down. Pain is fundamental, suffering is optional. You used to repeat that to yourself. When did you forget what you learned?
Don't step back. This is your fight, and no matter how much we wish we could, we cannot help you.

And you see...
Now that we are alone in this bedroom, and there's nothing the outsiders can do to change what happens. I start to wonder.
Why did I become this?
How could I let it get to this point?
I've asked myself these questions through and through this year. But only now I get to figure out, that I have no will of getting up. I could lie in this bed for the next dozens of hours. No new year's party, no messages, no pretending. Just me and the darkness.
Saying darkness makes it look rougher than it is. It is that dimmed light that waves us goodbye as the sun sets itself. It's a period that feels particularly sad, but it's also beautiful, and it brings the night. I love the night, for reasons unknown to this day.
But it's also silent.
A silence that I've pursued mentally many times this year. A desire that feels ungrateful for all people have given me. But still, it remains. I crave for not worrying, and while I keep in this form, people make me worry.
I don't want to go anywhere.
And suddenly all those weird childish teenager illusions come back. These characters that bring peace and comfort, endowed with beauty beyond belief.
They help me. They help me? I guess I know the answer. But while they are around, I like to just be taken care of.
I don't even need to ask for the comfort, they know by heart.
All by heart.

I won't scream, I won't cry.
I hope you rest and come back.
And after you come back you find yourself.
And when it's all put together, you feel yourself.
I beg you. For I know what you can do.
And I've seen what you're made of.
Please, for all that is still worth standing up.
You get off this bed.
Just stand up.
Look in the mirror.
And see.
Not the vast emptiness that's between you and what you look.
But rather that.
I know what makes your heart beats faster and what brings chills down your spine.
And deep down, under all that crap, you know it too.
You remembered it all year.
Every. Single. Day.
You dreamed of it, you thought of it, you breathed of it.
I don't speak of the crap they speak, I don't care about this spiritual and social mumbo jumbo.
It's all there.
And it's real for you.
And that, is enough for me.
And I won't stand in here trying to get you up.
You're the one who has to get out.
Brinstar, Larapool, Azeroth, you name it.
You will get up and you will get back there.
And if you can't get there, we'll at least, on the very fucking least, die trying.
Because that is one of the things you've learnt, I know you did.
No matter how many times the princess is taken, we WILL GET HER BACK.
Just because.
Now, please. Get. Over. Here.