Janeiro.

Janeiro é como uma segunda-feira.

Apenas com a diferença de durar 31 dias.

E cá estou, nesse último dia.

Agora sim ficou de verdade.

É... Amanhã começa a terça-feira.

E aqui despeço-me de meu mês.

Mama, don't cry.

I just wanna stay high.

I like playing with danger and fear.

While you don't cry, I do.

Someone has to do, i just don't know why.

Day after another fuckin' day and honestly, sometimes i really can't stand some of this fuckin' problems. I hate the fights, the cryin' thing, the screams, the angry, it sometimes really can be nonsense but i really hate and it hurts. And being hurt sucks. I saw in a movie, yesterday, a book that was called 'being sad sucks', but it's pretty much the same thing. I hate when you miss all the things around, i hate when you don't give me a chance to explain or just to understand my messed things. Why this is so hard for you? Don't you think that's the same, or worst, for me, too? What a hell. I didn't want to see those things, or being right here, after all this years. I didn't want anything of this, that just happened, for some fuckin' and mean and cruel reason. I wish i could count on you, geez. But, here we are. And we can't change what we've done, no. I'm really sorry about the things i do for you, and actually, more for the things i don't. Oh gosh, i love you, and i love you so much. Althoug you know, i'm selfish, i'm mean, i'm pretty much lazy, i have all the bad things, but still - i love you. And you're such a important part of me, but you make all of this so fuckin hard, so difficult, so painful. I wish i can be really honest, withou judgement. Without you saying all this creepy things, and feeling all this kinda terrible feelings. I hate and i can't stand when you throw it on my face. I wish you could read this, too. I just don't know what to with ourself. And, geez, am i gonna be just like you, now? Someday, some very long day, will i understand you so well? I'm so afraid about regrets and all this stuff. I never meant to heart you, you never did to me, too. But that's what we do, i could say almost always. It's my duty to thank you for all you did for me, and goddamn, the hell i know it was a lot of things. And i really am grateful. Someday, i wish i could show you all of this.

And, close that day, will we be better with ourselves? Am i gonna be good enough and I have achieved everything you require and is desperate now? It will become easier...one day? I hope so. I'm really, truly sorry about that. I'll always wish you well, no matter what i say, what i feel, what i think. It seems pretty fool, i know, but in my heart you know where you belong and what you mean to me.

We're still the same and we live.

We're still the same and we live just like our parents.

Just, you know, for practicing. Cause i'd never steal the beauty of Elis.

Orgulho.

De já saber como me virar sozinha.

Ao menos no blog.

xxx

HELP !

I need somebody -

HELP!

Not just anybody -

HELP!

You know I need someone -

HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP !

Dois dias pras aulas.

O que mesmo que eu fiz nesses dois meses?

Stop the clocks... Or just mine.

Stop the clocks and turn the world around, let your love lay me down and when the night is over, there'll be no sound. What if I'm already dead, how would I know?

Nostalgia: Substantivo feminino. Melancolia acentuada resultante de saudade.

Abrir um álbum de fotos da primeira infância é para, no mínimo, soprar o pó que estagnou no passado. Algumas memórias que julgamos perdidas curiosamente ali estão, intactas. Mesmo os anos seguintes, uma torrente de imagens e lembranças seguem-se então. Aquela menina com um tom de rosa nas enormes bochechas, o cabelo lisinho e preto, aquele tamanho compacto. Aquilo me pertence? Em algum lugar, em algum momento distante. Ou os anos dourados posteriores. A inocência, a beleza, as covinhas, as dobrinhas. E mais e mais anos. Nem preciso dizer quantas reflexões impossíveis e absurdas passam pela cabeça, em véspera de aniversário, ou como efeito colateral.

Lock the box and leave it all behind on the backseat of my mind, and when the night is over, where will I rise?

Eu quis que alguma barreira temporal inflexível ou surreal fosse capaz de frear cada uma dessas mudanças. Que sequer fosse capaz de voltar em um passado frequente. Não seria necessário mudá-lo ou revertê-lo, somente revivê-lo. Último ano, últimos momentos, última chance de irresponsabilidades liberadas e momentos dispersivos. Como foi passar tão rápido? Como fui dormir com um beijo materno e acordei numa realidade enlouquecida, enfurecida e cobrando-me as dívidas violentamente? E isso, daqui a alguns anos, há de ser e de se sentir como está agora? A tua piscina tá cheia de ratos, tuas ideias não correspondem aos fatos. Eu vejo o futuro repetir o passado, eu vejo um museu de grandes novidades. O tempo não para. Por enquanto, chovem rios de perguntas, e mantém-se a seca de respostas.

Lost inside my head, behind the wall, do they hear me when I call? And when the night is over, where will I fall?