21 12 2017

To read listening: A Flor e o espinho – Mariana Aydar.

I could love you forever. I said to myself when I open my eyes in the middle of the dawn. I did sleep on the sofa. It would be less painful than sleep in bed. In fact, no one ever know how much I avoided the bedroom since you leaved me. There was an awkward sensation on that place. For me, your luggage was there, your perfume was there, our mess in the bed was there, the pillows, the blanket – where we sweat a lot in our last night together – was there. Even my the underwear remained in the carpet. Our lub was there, near bed behind the books to make everything easier but not exposed. It was possible to see your smile floating on air. You was there, just sleeping,  just being beautiful with your tasty and hot white body, your beautiful blue eyes, and your unique presence. You was there, with me, and I wasn’t ready to destroy this yet. Above all,  everything what we were, was there. And I knew it will be impossible to dwell in that bedroom for a while, at least to me. My feelings and memories would not fit into this room.This was my only certainty at that moment. My bedroom  isn’t mine anymore, I thought. The bedroom has become a place dedicated to the memories and the longings.


Why love matters so much? I asked myself in silence before to get up unwillingly and open the window. We had a grey sky outside and I felt a comforter wind in my face already full of tears. Oh Shit, can I stop to cry for a second? I asked myself until to notice that the blue sky and the heat, from the previous days, was gone with you. Are you gone together? Are you with the cold in some place between my insecurities and yours? I don’t know. I just knew you was in some place far away from me, far away from my love and I couldn’t do anything to change that. So, I secretly thank you to take away the heat from here and took my way to the kitchen to make the coffee. It will be good follow the morning routine.


I started the coffee preparation as usual, I put two cups of water, one filter, five spoons of Brazilian Coffee while the milk with sugar was heating in the micro wave. I checked the fridge and I could noticed some food in way to rot I may write to you about this. It was a quiet and almost cold morning and I was overthinking, saying to myself: I knew we would end up like this! I knew it and didn’t. Being honest, I wasn’t aware it would be so painful. The pain, the same pain that makes me human according to nihilists, It was sharp, hopeless, and thin. I needed to do something to change that.  So, I move myself to the balcony, with the simple purpose to watch the life beyond my thoughts about you.


In the balcony I feel some cold and I like it, then I focused my attention above the commuters on their way to work. How small they are, I thought. Silly human beings with their unsolved troubles walking around very slowly under a thin and persistent rain. They was so squeezing that morning. All of them among their colorful umbrellas in tight sidewalks from a weird suburb, in the most insane town of Latin America in a country unmeasuredly colorful. My color for that day? Grey. I was completely grey. Not black even white. I was being this undefined color, grey. The coffee might be ready, I remember myself and I took my way back to the kitchen to finish this part of my daily tasks.


After to grab my coffee I goes to my humble TV room and I sat there for few minutes struggling to watch the news on the couch – my new bed. I drink one sip, two, when an image comes to mind. It was you walking around wearing your gray sweater shorts full of blue stars smoking a cigarette and just smiling to me trying to understand my poor English. I’m sure that you try to love me back. However, no one is able to understand the love so much. The last three days were days that you almost asked me to leave you. Why I was deceiving myself? You really asked, without a word. You were asking, leave me, look how I treat you, notice how I don’t want you anymore, leave me. Sudenly I Iremember why I became shy and I was all the time asking if I could touch or kiss you, you was just saying: Leave me Marcos, we don’t get horny anymore together. Was everything about sex though? I don’t know.


You will be my unsolved problem. A kind of task insolvable. Something to feel in silence, between the teeth, a small nuisance, a little sadness pretending to be hope, a happiness not contagious but epidemic. You will be something between my daily tasks and the love that we didn’t allowed. I was overthinking again. When I received a message from my bank and I remember with a little fear, that I’m a job seeker and I needed to do the ‘real’ things: checking all social networks, send resumes and pray to someone call me asking an interview.


I was really trying to do something who lead me far away from the idea of you. At the end, I had promise to you, that I’ll be fine. However It was impossible at that time. I can’t have strength to be happy and I also believed that the only way to find happiness it’s allowing the pain. The humanity have some concepts about love and happiness so different and so similar around these subjects, don’t you think? Maybe I’m crazy. No, we are crazy. I remembered when you told me.


You don’t know but from the first day you talked to me, since that afternoon, when we hadn’t started anything yet – when you came to my previous apartament and after our first ‘official date’  I was maturing our end, I think I did that during this last year, when we was united and separated at the same time. I don’t know why, but I’ve always been in this constant state of passion and grief. I was always preparing myself for the love but also for the pain. So there I was, checking the WhatsApp to feel the pleasure to talk with you and the same time the sadness because of your departure.


You was in Madrid waiting the conection to Brussels. We exchange few words, you said thank you for everything and we start to ‘fight’ for the guilty. We always fought for the guilty. I think we did that because, at the end, we know we were ‘the ones’. I wouldn’t lie to myself, but maybe we are ‘the ones’ just in different steps in the life. Who knows what can be happen? ‘Tomorrow is going to be a new day’ said Chico Buarque on the CD Player next to the grey couch where I, grey as I am, lived all day.



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28 12 2017
Starman Jones


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