#textosgil

[cotidie-morimur]

I never thought change your country would be something so hard. My life is good, I have a flat, nice job, money. But it is becoming lonely.

I miss my close friends, giggle with them until my stomach ache, feel safe when I go out, have someone to listen 2hat I have to say. Physically saying, I don't need anyone, I pay my own bills, do what I want when I want without needing explanation, but emotionally its been a long empty journey.

People assume I'm a bitch because I speak my mind, that I'm extreme because I don't really follow the rules. That I'm empty because I like shopping and boys. But no one can see the real me, the person longing for adventures e deep conversations about how fucked up our world is.

I always needed a friend and for a while I felt like I had but things not always are what they seem to be. Now that I'm an immigrant in a wild world, I'm lost and dazed, but holding on strong and my head high. Never alone, but always lonely.

[cotidie-morimur]

It will never change.

I’m there again. With that motherfucker feeling taking over my mind. The thoughts asking me to go deep in the flash. I miss the feeling, miss the blade, miss the coke, everything that teorically is bad for you but is my only relief. Reading my previous texts, unreleased poems and everything I alerady done all I can see is the same point, the same pain. it will nerver change.

People tell you they will stay by your side, many of them, but by the end of them you are talking the same shit to the same people who is probably tired of you. You feel a burden, overwhelming and the worse of all: alone. The same darkness you know is always there. Day after day, because deep down nobody can ever understand what you have been through, nobody will know the fucked up life you had and due do that, the fucked up mind you’ve got. 

Days whitout sleeping, nights and nights of tears, problems coming into your life more than any other thing you could deal with. I just want it all to stop, even for a second, even for a day. Why do I have to feel so sad all the time since I can remeber? What the fuck I have done to deserve all of this? Can please someone shot me straight to the heart and kill the pain that is killing me?

I have no joy in staying alive, no perspective of a future, ‘cuz I know I won’t have one and am just wasting time trying. Breath, eat, sleep, talk is too hard for me, the basic of the basic of survival, so why keep trying? WHY SO COWARD TO NOT END WITH ALL? I obligate myself do live in this hell over and over for not having brave enought to stop with a worthless life and that also will never chance.

[cotidie-morimur]

Is there any thinspo active blog following me? All my friends seemed to leave me (again)

Looking for friends to talk about, support on our weight goals, ana tips and more. SUPPORTING NO PROMOTING (or whatever)

[cotidie-morimur]

I still remember the feeling, the way you made me feel in that day you broke me in hundreds of pieces. But you don’t know that, you never understood what you’ve done, in your world you were being friendly, however I was being killed with sweet kindness and compassion, what does not make any easier to die. But how exactly did you kill me with words? Sounds weird I guess, because you’ll never hear on tv or read in newspaper that someone actually died by word, even when daily, millions of us die for it. You see, I was based on you boy, who was the name in my head when they asked me about love? Yours. Everything I did, I did for you, to keep you close, I gave you my best everyday truly believing that to dedicate my time and my life for someone would be enough to be loved back, but it wasn’t. In that morning, you teach me I wasn’t enough: Funny enough, pretty enough, rich enough, tall enough, strong enough for us. You left without look back, took the ground from me and let me fall, taking my confidence, my hope, my dreams and everything I was carrying for both of us, because yes, I was loving you alone. How am I supposed to move on if I already found the love of my life, but he just isn’t the one, how can I find somebody else if my word had been giving for a guy who turned it into dust? There’s no hope, no love, no strength in me anymore, there isn’t willing to be a lover again. It hurts, it really hurts, only I know how hard it is just pretend it everything fine when clear isn’t. So yes, day after day, night after night, be alive without love and hope makes you a dead person inside and don’t be able to express that it’s the course for those who fell. And this, babe, is how you make me feel since that day you decided you could find someone better.

Me

[cotidie-morimur]

Another goodbye to him

São Paulo, February, 28, 1997

I’m sorry with I walk away from you without a warning. It’s not purposeful if I ignore you, it’s just now my self-defence is stronger now and makes me stand on my feet. Is it confusing? I can explain better.

I came slightly, I still remember the guilty in our expressions when we talked at the beginning, the shame of say something fool or let some shit scape while we speaking. I started to pay more attention in you, because I’m like that, silly, dizzy and detailed, I’m always watching, and between our many crossed looks, I fell in love.

Time flies, and you started to pay attention in me as well, about what I told or things I did, you started to take care of me. For someone fool like me, it was more than enough to embrace your words, crazy histories and bad language from 90’s. You made me laugh, feel comfortable, you fucked me emotional, but was always there when I called. It is the perfect description of the guy I want to love. That’s the problem.

Right now, while I think in the words of this text you are with someone else, delighting, and I can’t compete because I’m not enough for you, to your needs. Just between us, I’m fucked up, a big mess. Life and time have broken me, and I have with me a heavy load as messed as me, full of regret, fear, extremes. Because I’m a ride or die, I can’t be cool, because I’m too intense for that. We are from different words, even so, you do such a good for me that it’s a risk I try to belong to yours and fuck with the only thing that makes me feel good this days. I have to be grounded and mature enough to understand I’ll never have you. I’m just a dreamer.

That is the reason of that, to don’t hurt myself I hurt the cool guys who try to get close; deep down I am the true problem, I’m crazy. So when we see each other on the streets again when our path came by chance and I don’t talk to you back, when you don’t hear from me anymore, is because, babe, I’m in love with you.

PS: Don’t be friendly anymore. I hate you.

[cotidie-morimur]

Odeio estar apaixonado e ter de medir as palavras, evitar ser muito eu. De estar dando muita pinta do que realmente estou pensado, em não poder ser tão amigável quanto eu queria. Odeio o fato de não poder explicar as coisas direito, pois não faria sentido na sua cabeça o que eu falo, pois você pode me ter muito facilmente e nunca vai sentir o que eu sinto quando te vejo: o medo de ti nunca mais voltar. Odeio fazer exatamente o que você quer, mas não porque você pede e sim pelo simples motivo que eu vou poder ficar mais perto. Resumo meu gostar em odiar, minha raiva em carinho, minhas ações são controvérsias e ao invés de sorrisos, lágrimas. Quanto mais eu te odeio, mais eu gosto de te odiar.

Gilberto Jr.

[cotidie-morimur]

Mais um adeus para ele

São Paulo, 28/02/1997

Me desculpe se eu me afastar de você do nada. Não é intencional se eu começar a te ignorar, é uma defesa muito forte que me permite permanecer de pé. Está confuso, né? Deixa eu explicar melhor.

Você chegou de manso, ainda lembro das nossas expressões de culpados por cumprimentar um ao outro, a vergonha de dizer alguma besteira ou deixar escapar alguma coisa. Sem que você percebesse, eu comecei a prestar mais atenção em você. Sou bobo mesmo, meio distraído, mas observo muito e, entres olhadas e olhares, eu me perdi.

Com o tempo, você começou a prestar mais atenção no que eu fazia e dizia, tomou conta de mim sem querer. Pra alguém apaixonável como eu, era mais que o necessário para me envolver em suas conversas maliciosas e estilo anos 90.

Me fazia rir, sentir confortável, mexia com meus nervos, mas estava sempre próximo quando eu chamava. É a descrição perfeita do tipo de pessoa que eu quero. E esse é o problema.

A essa altura escrevo um texto enquanto você se delicia com outro alguém, pois não há coragem em mim para competir com outra pessoa. Eu não sou o suficiente que você e precisa e, cá entre nós, eu sou só confusão e bagunça.

Eu já estou muito danificado pelo tempo e pela vida. Eu trago comigo uma bagagem pesada e bagunçada. Eu sou essa bagunça, eu sou esse peso, a angústia, os extremos, tudo ou nada. Não consigo ser amigável, menos intenso do que isso.

Nós somos de mundo diferentes, mas você faz bem para mim e eu não estaria bem indo atrás de algo que jamais aconteceria, correndo o risco de acabar com uma das poucas coisas que me fazem seguir em frente. Tenho que ser pé no chão e me tocar que não há nada entre a gente, mas que nunca vou aceitar. Eu sou sonhador.

Essa é minha defesa, ficar com caras maus para não me machucar com caras legais como você, porque no fundo o problema sou eu mesmo e toda essa loucura. Então quando nos virmos por aí e nossos caminhos se cruzarem e eu não te responder, quando não tiver mais notícias minhas, acredite meu amigo, é porque eu estou te amando muito.

PS: Não seja mais amigável comigo. Eu te odeio.

[cotidie-morimur]

E meu divertimento tem se resumido em poucas curtidas em redes sociais, expressar meus sentimentos em textos e cadernos vazios e esperar até o próximo beck passar pela minha não. Tudo tem estado tão tedioso e cansativo, tão triste e vazio que eu já não sei o que mais posso fazer para me sentir melhor. Sinto-me só como nunca antes senti, me sinto um cordeiro com um lobo à espreita, uma vitima que luta para não ser. O pesar é pesado dentro de mim, o medo de abandono também, ainda assim, deixo a culpa me afastar de quem amo, à medida que ao mesmo tempo me sinto abandonado por todos. Sei lá, eu não encaixo em casa, no trabalho, na faculdade... Eu sou aquele estranho, engraçado quando fala, mas que ninguém leva a sério, mas que no fundo só quer ser ouvido e sentir-se parte de algo. De alguém. De qualquer coisa que me faça bem.