His grunts echoed throughout the hallway, waking her from another dreamless dream, those of which she was neither please nor anoied waking up from. The sounds were beastly, as if some slaughter was happening just across the corridor, but wasn’t it? The first fall always hurts the most, they said. But she knew better. At the first time the feeling is unknown, and as one feels the pain going through, it not only hurts, but it gives pleasure, as the discoveries of all new things do. But by the horrid sound she was now hearing, she could tell, this was seemly plain chest breaking merciless pain.
The worst of it all was not even that she could relate to Derek’s feeling, but that she herself could not to a thing to make it go away. A broken heart can only be mend by a new love, and so she waited for her son to mourn his loss at the uttermost state of depression, where her presence was not needed nor desired.
At first she thought it was for good, that looser didn’t deserve her son after all. But as the days passed tears became sobbing, later giving place to loud cries of pain, she knew there in front of her laid the last breath of the child inside her boy.
I just realized that the problems of the world can actually be divided in “low self steem” and the rest. If people just understood that what some may consider a weakness, others see as an opportunity, a gateway to a path that will lead us.
The world is full of intelligent, beautifull and amazing people. That’s why I preffer the self conscious, the ones that actually see themselves and try to make the best out of what they have. And understand that you are as good as your worst action and as strong as your worst fear.
O som de seu salto sobre o asfalto era o que a protegia da inércia. O movimento ,na verdade, já não era mais o objetivo, andava sem destino, sem direção. Sabia que enquanto caminhasse manteria sua mente blindada da imagem que por tanto tempo havia sido apenas um espectro no horizonte e agora se concretizava a sua frente. Não era tão ingênua a ponto de não notar o perfume que impregnava o casaco dele quando chegava em casa, nem as marcas de batom na gola das camisas que ela mesma havia engomado mais cedo. Mas o amor tem dessas coisas, dizia a si mesma. E convencida de que era uma fase, fingia não se preocupar.
O afeto e a amizade, nos quais haviam sedimentado aquela relação pouco a pouco davam lugar à miséria e ao medo da solidão. E naquela tarde, quando sentada com ele a sua frente, ouvindo a reverberação de seus atos finalmente a atingindo, ela já não sabia a quem culpar ou o que pensar dele e do que havia feito. Afinal, não teria feito ela o mesmo?
Mas só o pensamento já lhe era insuportável. Sabia que teria que enfrentá-lo, mas não agora, não com essa neve deliciosa em seu rosto e o tendo o vento que suspirava o Hudson como seu guia. Canal Street a esquerda, três blocos ao norte e já poderia atravessar a rua. Ouvia as passadas agudas dos saltos. E continuava andando.
Some times you will find yourself among friends, having fun and surrounded by people you love but happiness cannot make its way to you because there is someone missing.
That someone that you tell yourself that you might be better off without her. Sometimes you tell yourself that you just like the attention that person gives you. But if that’s so, why other people’s attention toward you cannot make your inside whole?
Why do you keep going over and over about how that person won’t understand what you want for your life and will not stand by you when you simply don’t concieve a happy life with her?
And as some might say that I’m that we are happy together, why can’t I convince myself of this and let the rest go?
Well… you know, the matters of the heart are funny ones…
I wish I could just blow you up in a million pieces and hide each and every one of them form myself so I would never need to look at you again. Because knowing you are out there somewhere away form me hurts more than I could begin to tell. But I guess that’s just the way it goes. We have reached the parting point but now life seams more unimaginable without you them ever.
I don’t know if it only works for me this way, but sometimes when you meet soo many amazing people or became acquainted with their work I’m always struck by a certain duality towards them: at the same time I feel marveled and enchanted such beautiful, intelligent and insightful things, I can’t help myself feeling somehow diminished by their grandiosity.
It seems like I’m not good enough even to give my opinion about them, as I perceive them as better people than myself.