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Things you burry away with the blink of an eye.

For some reason, all that talking & seeing how they were, after the parents had splitted up, brought up memories I no longer knew I had.
And I am trully sorry because of the way things turned out to be, and more sorry even because, apart from forgiviness-asking, I dont know if there's anything to do that would repair all the collateral damage.
But I miss you and I've missed you my whole life.

I'm not here saying I love a person more than the other: just that I now understand this links between us 4 runs deeper than blood.
And despite what I'm about to say, the things I do or did aren't anyone's fault, but mine alone.


I remembered the microwave-warmed up slices of queijo fresco, normally on saturday and sunday's mornings. Guess those special occasions are the reason of why I'm so mad about this 'meal'.
I remembered playing what I think it was Street Fighter & although enjoying it, asking for a more girlie game to play on the super nintendo. Guess that was my way of saying that, although I'm still a girl, I was enjoying too much those fighting, boyish games.
I remember all my dedicated paintings being framed and held up somewhere where everyone could see.
I remember you playing flight piloting emulator games and how mesmerised I used to get, thinking how that was one of the coolest things to do.
I remember being taken for driving, me barely holding the wheels -as it still is- and just about touching the pedals, amazed with controlling the car direction (aka nearly crashing on everything).
I remembered convincing you to play War, and you losing it - or maybe letting the overly excited 8yo win? 
I also remember how I used to enjoy so much spending time doing nothing much, like drawing silly things, just because you were standing nearby.
But I also remember not receiving a phone call because daddy now had a girlfriend which he didnt tell us about, although he promised he would. Phone call came later on & I dont remember this situation happening very often. I remember I got so mad, I didnt talk with you for ages.
I also remember the fights - loud arguings at night, me & sis hiding on the scary-at-dark garden, clueless of what was going on & then mom telling dad not-to-lay-a-finger-even-on us because his hands were too heavy and we were just kids. Sis got a slap, but I escaped. 
Apart from that, cant recall dad slapping or beating us at all.
But i remember mom passed out on the floor, sister crying, cousin terrified look and daddy embarrassed look when he saw me staring at that picture, half asleep still.
I remember you left one night, like many others before, silently waking me up & saying good bye. I cried loud, waking everyone up, hopeing you'd hear and wouldnt go. You left anyway & I think I cried and cried, until I passed out, asleep.
Haha I remember you trying to teach me how to read an analogic clock - that was on the same day you told me the ants on the cake were good for our sight as 'no one's ever seen an ant wearing glasses' - silly billy me, I believed and proud&happily ate the ants along with the cake. (guess I didnt eat ants enough though... haha)
I remember how angry and hurt and sad and abandoned I felt when you moved in with that woman. We used to still go to grandma's house on the weekends to see you, although we didnt really see you every weekend, not always you were around. Then I remember when I first heard her son (and not yours) call you 'dad' - the floor vanished from my feet, the furniture was not around and even the ceiling disappeared. I think I blanked out for a long moment, lost my breath. How? How could my father be so much of a father to someone else, to the point of this person feeling free to call him dad, and not us? This still hurts me.
That same feeling happened again when you told you went to visit him on his uni house & town, to check things up. Where were you when me or sis needed you, not only during uni but any other delicate moments?
I also remember this same woman when she tried to give me a criminal record when I was 16, by giving the police a false statement, which you backed her up with on the lie, coldly looking me in the eyes and telling me it was to 'teach me a lesson' because I was clearely misbehaving.
I also remember asking you for advice, during uni days, and you denying to do so, cuz you didnt want to say something that lead me to do something that would upset mom. I really have no idea what to think about this one - I know you had the best of intentions, but I also needed my dad.
Just like everytime I introduce you to one of my boyfriends - Im just desperate seeking to see if you react! I'm your babygirl, all grown up,  and you're not meant to approve or refuse them - but to tell me off if I'm doing something you know is stupid, which 100% of times I am! But you just smile, lie & play along with them, just like when you told me, when I was 15, not to date just one guy, but to go out a lot and have a lot of boyfriends.

Guess I did follow that only one advice very well, after all...
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First Water Drop

I'm not sure exactly what I'm doing, but it already feels good.
Have deleted facebook, suspended WhatsApp (for a couple of days only) and broke up the relationship that shouldn't have started in the first place. I'm so sorry that the friendship might not last, I'll understand.

Anyhow, life carries on. And like I said, whenever I miss facebook, I'll post something in here, even though no one reads (guess that can also be something good).

Among the things to get done, I've come to realise, finally, after all this time, I can't stay in England anymore. Doesn't matter how free and more independent I am here, which is basically two things that I've always seeked in life... I will never be trully free and independent when I can't even settle down on a home because the housing prices and situation are so unhuman.

And can't be USA as I can't legally work in there. Canada could be, but I can only legally work there for 6months, so Canada would only be experience, cultural exchange and a quick stop before a new start somewhere else.

It is true that I could simply move to anywhere in Europe and live there, but I'm not sure how would be the housing, job and life-actually in there. Would be an uncertain start. Something perfectly doable if I was on my early twenties still, which ain't the case (I'm turning 25 on Valentine's day). So, guess I'll be back at the melting hot, sunny burnt, beautiful yet tragic, home - Brazil.

The plan? To get a job, drive (with confidence lol), go back to Uni and complete a post-grad related to my work field, get a better job, carry on with life, achieve and achieve. Damn, I have no idea what I want for my life on a long term goal.

Anyway, I got obsessed with a new song (please read 'new-for-me'):

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Letter to Marie

Um dos fragmentos do livro - a carta encontrada por Zeke nos escombros do incêndio que se deu após o rapto dos três.

"My lovely Marie,

For many years and countless hours, at random times of day and night, you were the main fuel to my imagination, the reason for all sorts of words, lines, sketches, curves, blurred ideas and perfectly made and lost pieces of art done by me.
I know now I might spend this one more life without actually getting to know you, face to face, but I thank any God up there for even the idea of you ever coming up to my mind.

This won't be another sad letter and I will no longer mumble and silently sing prayers apologising to you, me and everyone/thing else. 
You know the words asking for forgiveness are pure, real and honest - if you don't, you know it now.

Know I loved and love you with every single cell of my body. 
You gave me hope when there seemed to have none. You also taught me different versions of life.
Taught and forced me to truly learn to forgive - and you also got me to forgive. 
But... It is time to let go. What is done can't be undone, but one should never give up on anything in life. Know I've also never given up on you.
Please know there will be a little bit of you in every new page I'll ever write. 

In a way, in my heart and dreams, you'll live forever.

Love you endless,
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<no title yet>

"Humans...", she said with a hint annoyance, upset and disappointment in her voice, as she stared down the hill, pointing towards them so the little girl could see.
"They can't be that bad", she replied with a sweet smile, her soulful eyes staring far away before she slowly started standing her hands and whispering something softly, as images of several people started to float in the air, as if it was a scene from a film, their voices sounding low as they spoke. "See? They are just living their lives", said the little girl.
"Calata", said the lady, and the voices stoped. "You must mute the microphone first, otherwise they will hear you", she explained. 
"What happens if they do?", she asked, closing her hands together and making the images disappear as she looked up to the lady with curiosity.
"They wouldn't know who's speaking, they'd go crazy with ideas that are not theirs, believing on something beyond their capability of understanding & we should never play with someone's conscience, mind and heart." 
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A simple fragment from another day...

It was one of days, you know? When everything that could have gone wrong, went worse then the expected. World was falling on your shoulders, crumbling around you more & more as we walked on the street... I know, I was there, I could see it. You were not fine, but 'giving up' was never something for you. So you were still here. 
And there you were, standing under the rain & staring at the grey sky, with the bridge, crowded by everyone that was passing by escaping from the rain, right in front of you, an arm distance away.
You were out there to get wet. And it wasn't your honey coloured hair or your beautiful silky pale skin or the perfect symmetries of your face along with the most fascinating eyes I've ever seen. No. It was something about the smile, wide, spontaneous, beautiful, but not it alone, as it is just all a reflection of your soul. 
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Good Morning Love Note

"I love you so much! 
I can not even figure out this life without you. I love it when you're around me: dressed top to bottom, beautiful and produced like a top model, with a top brand and that powerful, mind trapping looking of yours; or completely naked, wearing nothing but a smile, highlighting your soulful eyes, making breath takingly better the picture of your curvy figure and soft skin  - you have nothing to hide. I also love it when you come to me with a big smile, feeling light, happy, joyful, all perky and full of energy & life, but also admire the moments when you come to me to burst in tears and free yourself a little from the pain in your heart and soul.
So, come on, beautiful one. Stay with me today and just for today, forget about work, forget all duties. Leave for later the plans and projects you have. Go get a bottle of water and a fruit basket, because you will still need histrionic and no one should stay a day without eating.
Just for today, ignore the alarm and stay... here... with me." - My Bed.
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O "O 'A' do Abecedário

Esse foi post que digitei em Junho de 2011 e gostei de reler ontem.
(Estou postando pelo celular, na tentativa de ver se funciona) :)

O "A" do Abecedário

Começa quando você é criança e aquele bando de adulto sem noção fica te perguntando: de quem você gosta mais, de mamãe ou de papai?

Como se apenas esse absurdo não bastasse, mal passa um ano (ou seja, você nem tem seis anos direito), já tem algumas várias pessoas te perguntando: O que você quer ser quando crescer?
Oras bolas… você no auge do seus cinco anos, se foi uma criança normal, diferente de mim, provavelmente respondia jogador de futebol, ator de tv, piloto de fórmula 1, professora, médico (a), etc… Bom, com cinco anos eu queria ser grande. Com oito eu queria ser Cientista Genética. Mas isso não vem ao caso.

Continuando a trajetória de perguntas absurdas, vem o ínicio das piores:
1) Com quantos anos você quer casar?
Veja bem, ninguém perguntou SE você quer casar, e sim quando. Eu ficava perdida com essa pergunta! Mas como não gostava de deixar perguntas em branco, eu respondia dizendo que com a mesma idade com que mamãe casou-se (assim como a maioria das crianças que conhecia faziam).
2) Quantos filhos você quer ter?
Aí além de engolir um casório, você também tem que ter filhos. E fica quase implícito na pergunta que é bom que você tenha mais que um.
3) Onde você quer morar?
“Ah, não sei.” É óbvio que não sabia! Olha a idade. Mas como uma pergunta sempre precisava de resposta, eu respondia com uma dúvida: São Paulo, Nova York ou Ribeirão Preto. Se não me engano a resposta quase sempre era essa. “Ah, mas você não quer continuar na sua cidade?”, retrucavam. E eu dizia um sincero, simples e baixo “não…”, imaginando sempre que, toda “gente grande” que prestasse tinha um excelente emprego, sempre numa cidade bem grande.
4) Qual vai ser o nome do seu marido?
Agora você é, obrigatoriamente, heterossexual. E além de tudo, o cara tem que ter um nome. Nada como uma pergunta safada pra ter com o que te escorraçar n’A Hora do Parabéns (que na realidade é A Hora do Terror) do seu aniversário. E ai, você que não é besta nem nada, sabe que vai ser escorraçada… ao menos lista opções ou dá de resposta o nome de um garoto que é bem bonito. Afinal, se for pra cair na lama, que seja bem arrumado.

E aí, meu bem, você não tem nem cinco anos e planejou sua vida toda, até que… Numa certa tarde, você faltou da aula e resolveu ligar a tv. Pro terror da sua mãe (e talvez do seu pai também), algum desmiolado colocou pra passar na Sessão da Tarde, em plena 3hrs da tarde, um filme com um bando de adolescente tarado querendo nada mais, nada menos, do que uma irresponsável e inconseqüente transa.

Por mais que você seja a garota boazinha, um protótipo de Sandy sem os pais cornomúsicos famosos, que raramente apanha, raramente faz arte e raramente fica de castigo… Aquilo fica na sua cabeça. E quando você menos percebe, virou tudo um nó absurdo.

Você ainda sonha com o cara ideal, ainda quer ter a vida boa em uma cidade grande e ser um protótipo de Barbie que quase (ou não) deu certo. Só que o cara ideal tem mais defeitos que qualidades. O emprego não é o emprego dos seus sonhos porque no auge da sua rebeldia tardia, você deixou os estudos de lado e além disso, você conheceu outro campo (no meu caso, a música) e parou de sonhar com a mavarilhosa e fantástica genética; e o protótipo de Barbie foi pro ralo antes que você se desse conta, porque Barbie só serve pra ficar dentro de uma caixa de plástico ou na estante, enquanto tem outros zilhões de estilos que você pode adotar – e melhor ainda, você pode criar o seu.

E como o cara ideal (vulgo ex-príncipe encantado) geralmente se revela um merda e você não quer homem nenhum do seu lado mandando e desmandando e palpitando enquanto fica com a bunda pregada no sofá só assistindo tudo de camarote, você adota a Estratégia do Bar, afinal prostituição não pega bem e uma diversão de fim de noite é sempre bem vinda: Você vai pra um bar legal, fica amiga do barman (ou mesmo da barwoman), enxe a cara, leva um cara pra sua casa, usa e abusa do infeliz e chuta ele porta a fora no dia seguinte, antes mesmo de ir tomar banho para ir pro trabalho. E é incrível que alguns, quando te encontram, querem repetir a dose e ainda ficam naquela melosidade de querer um relacionamento.

Ah, tem dó, né?