Mensagens

A mostrar mensagens de 2017

"Gosto de ti"... não deveria ser tão difícil

*2002/2003* Lembro-me de estares sentado na carteira à minha frente, estávamos no 9ª ano, não me recordo qual era a disciplina. Tinha emprestado o meu corrector e precisava dele de volta; o T. disse que só mo devolvia se eu te dissesse que gostava de ti. Eu encolhi os ombros e disse "está bem". Chamei-te, dando-te umas palmadinhas no ombro e, quando te viraste, disse "gosto de ti", ao que tu respondeste, com aquele teu típico sorriso estampado na cara, "eu sei!". O T. devolveu-me o corrector com um ar de derrotado, tinha sido demasiado fácil. Exactamente porque nessa altura era tão mais fácil para mim. Era tão mais desbocada e confiante. É suposto encararmos as coisas de forma mais natural conforme vamos ficando mais velhos, ou pelo menos é essa a banha da cobra que nos vendem, principalmente durante a adolescência. Então porque é que isso não acontece? Porque é que hoje em dia é tão díficil dizer a alguém que se gosta dela, mesmo sendo apenas uma simple

It was an Epic Dream (literally)

I dreamt about you last night. We were fooling around, as usual, and you were making fun of me for some reason I cannot recall. Then suddenly you pushed me against the wall and kissed me. It felt so real I can still sense it. All of a sudden the scenario completely changed. We were in the medieval ages. Dreams can be confusing sometimes, so I'll try to recount what I remember. There were factions, four I think, all with their own banners, and for each a girl representing them. And they were competing, some sort of trials. I was one of the girls. For you to get the vision of it, it was basically Harry Potter meets Games of Thrones. The winner got to be with you, you were the prize. It's like my subconscious was telling me that I need to pass the trials to be with you. The games are now just a blur in my mind, I can only remember fragments of it; for instance, one was to collect the higher amount of coins I could find before everything in the village caught fire (weird, right

cold-blooded, soulless being

I am a cold-blooded, soulless being wandering the earth. That is what I've become. At least that is what you made up in your mind. In your sickening and twisted perception of me, I am just a bitch. You say I do not talk much. In truth, I think I just do not talk about the things you want me to. I refuse to do the things you want just to please you. And if that makes me a bitch, then be it: I'll be a bitch before your eyes! What you do not understand is that I don't talk because sometimes it hurts. It hurts me to be unable to say how I really feel since even I cannot describe it. It hurts me to core wanting to speak my mind and to not find the words. Some things cannot be conveyed by verbalization, they're too complex. So I shut them out of conversations. I keep it all to myself, although I know it harms me. But I guess that's my burden. Then I start feeling numb. I feel numb because once I felt too much. There's just so much emotion you can take before you