len(a)

dude i havent properly use tumblr since i was 17

[sparklxs]

I now have realised that I have been my brother’s mother more time than I ever was his sister. He asks me to make him food, to help him write names on the search lines, sits next to me and starts throwing at me ridiculous questions about the most random topics, comes running to wherever I am to tell me to sing movie songs with him, ask me where he left the story he’s been building with his toys, he only cries when he knows I am around. He calls me “mom” when he’s confused or tired.

Most of the time, I wish we were just brother and sister. I wish we could both be kids together.

[sparklxs]

i dont think any child wants to loose their parents, is difficult, is heartwrenching, is earth shattering, is to force yourself to don’t cry everytime you talk, is avoiding eye contact, is eating after everyone’s finished. is lonely and dark. is to know unconditional love and knowing also that you could never have it back.

sometimes i wish to not know them at all, sometimes i think is better the childish anger and then the older understanding on why is belonged people not always supposed to belong to each other than the scarring need of love and recognition when you are too old in image but too young in soul.

[sparklxs]

i probably read Pizarnik way younger than i think i did, i probably thought “what an awful world we both live in, how much sorrow can carry understanding too that other people seem to be part of some other reality, one where they never have refer to dead in such a blissful manner. and i would regret to even conceive this later, but what a great thing we both exist, what an amazing day was today when i learned im not alone and neither is she”.

[sparklxs]

I’ve been grieving myself since I was 5 years old, when I knew that the person that I would have give everything to be, was never going to have the opportunity to be born.

[sparklxs]

Sometimes is so unbearable, the feeling of being stuck somewhere between the person I dreamed to be when I was a child and the person that I’m today, that I wish I could drown her. Whichever. Whoever.

Me or her.

Probably me.

[sparklxs]

I feel so deeply that everything tends to hurt so very much. Even things that don’t supposed to ache could probably build a obnoxiously big creature of metal from my throat to the pitch black end of my stomach and, coerce my eyes to sting while, what it feels, torrents of clear salted acid drop in my mouth.

[sparklxs]

Sometimes I wonder how hard love is, how deeply is supposed to be felt for people to be afraid of it. I sometimes think that I would rather share the inevitable sore of finding actual love than live a life without knowing its tenderness. I sometimes expect that falling in love is what will happen next, in a way that I could stop the throb in my core that is pretending that I know what loving means.

But, every so often I recall the love that I can identify, the one witnessed in tactile realness: an intermittent spasm between benevolent human affection, kind yet unsympathetic. And the one behold in earthly fiction: a otherworldly vulnerability except when it is lacerating terrestrial.