My Heart and I

My Heart and I
by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I.

ENOUGH ! we're tired, my heart and I.
We sit beside the headstone thus,
And wish that name were carved for us.
The moss reprints more tenderly
The hard types of the mason's knife,
As heaven's sweet life renews earth's life
With which we're tired, my heart and I.

II.
You see we're tired, my heart and I.
We dealt with books, we trusted men,
And in our own blood drenched the pen,
As if such colours could not fly.
We walked too straight for fortune's end,
We loved too true to keep a friend ;
At last we're tired, my heart and I.

III.
How tired we feel, my heart and I !
We seem of no use in the world ;
Our fancies hang grey and uncurled
About men's eyes indifferently ;
Our voice which thrilled you so, will let
You sleep; our tears are only wet :
What do we here, my heart and I ?

IV.
So tired, so tired, my heart and I !
It was not thus in that old time
When Ralph sat with me 'neath the lime
To watch the sunset from the sky.
`Dear love, you're looking tired,' he said;
I, smiling at him, shook my head :
'Tis now we're tired, my heart and I.

V.
So tired, so tired, my heart and I !
Though now none takes me on his arm
To fold me close and kiss me warm
Till each quick breath end in a sigh
Of happy languor. Now, alone,
We lean upon this graveyard stone,
Uncheered, unkissed, my heart and I.

VI.
Tired out we are, my heart and I.
Suppose the world brought diadems
To tempt us, crusted with loose gems
Of powers and pleasures ? Let it try.
We scarcely care to look at even
A pretty child, or God's blue heaven,
We feel so tired, my heart and I.

VII.
Yet who complains ? My heart and I ?
In this abundant earth no doubt
Is little room for things worn out :
Disdain them, break them, throw them by
And if before the days grew rough
We once were loved, used, - well enough,
I think, we've fared, my heart and I.

"..."

Cheguei a conclusão de que, ao menos hoje, eu acho que a felicidade pode ser tão assustadora quanto a tristeza. Que seria errado negar que uma não existe sem a outra, já que sem a tristeza não apreciariamos a felicidade em nada.
Assim como que, sem a solidão, jamais sentiríamos a falta daquela companhia que tanto gostamos e ansiamos em ter novamente - tanto quanto jamais enalteceríamos o silêncio sem conhecer um estrondoso e repetitivo barulho degradante aos nossos ouvidos...

Within

I used to be afraid that one day my fire would no longer burn;

That the intensity of how i feel everything and everyone would fade;

And the passion in each positive, neutral and negative (re)action would cease to be.

I used to fear the day when my heart would beat an indifferent beat;

When my soul would go numb, and would go grey;

My tone, my sound, the echo of me would turn cold;

And my mind would become so willingly silent
that I no longer would recognize my very self anymore.

Now days and nights go by
Another set of candles get blown on yet another Valentine's day...

...And with its flame another inch of my own fire gets taken away.

Who am I, anyway?

And who was I, back before this day?

"Você"

O número de vezes que eu fujo,
O número de vezes que eu nego,
O número de vezes que eu re-invento,
O número de vezes que eu digo "Adeus",
O número de vezes que eu digo "Jamais",

Equivalem ao número de vezes que minha mente se volta para você.
A intensidade do meu querer-você,
a quão profunda é a tristeza deixada em mim por você.

Você é toda a minha razão de desejar insistir.
Você é toda a minha razão de precisar desistir.

Shallow Dive

Sometimes we meet a person
and we think they are the most
beautiful song we'll ever listen to

They make love stories finally make sense
fairy tales to feel so real
color to have sounds
and sounds to tickle your skin

And through them we become capable of seeing so much of
joy
goodness
time
hope

There's this thrilling sense of an unforgettable adventure

It's alluring
breathtaking
mesmerizing.

But just then,
into the thin air,
everything disappears...

...when you find out about

the lies
how they used you
how so easily they tossed you away

"Easy comes, easy goes" they say
Couldn't be more true

The illusion shatters into glassy pieces
And into those glassy pieces I glance
and those pieces become a mirror

And into that mirror I dare to look.
and in there I dont see what my mind truly yearns for
--a passage to a different, magical world--

what I really see,
at first,
are this once soulful green eyes,
now filled with a raging fire, a desire to break free and to be dark and mean
I felt my soul colder than ice
My emotions greyer than an empty sky

So I closed my eyes
to let this darkness take over me

a materialising shadow involving me

And my heart didnt race
my mind, still
my body, relaxed

I died for a moment
And when I finally opened back my eyes

to see what all that darkness had turned me into
to see what mean weapon had it given to me

I saw...
Me.

I saw...
Hope.

O Me, O Life!

O Me! O Life!
BY WALT WHITMAN

Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring,
Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish,
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew’d,
Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me,
Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined,
The question, O me! so sad, recurring--What good amid these, O me, O life?

                                       Answer.

That you are here—that life exists and identity,

That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.

 

Quick Glance at the Mirror of Time

I wrote this almost a year ago... and I still feel this way. Maybe even more now than I did before.

××

I wish I could be more of the not-so-much-little girl I used be.

She was stronger.
She had a light soul, an honest happy smile and soulful eyes.
She also had a strength that no little girl was expected to have. 
And even with all the darkness she faced, she still sparkled.

And she could draw, write, sing, play and create an entire new world. She could make everything happen.

She dreamt magical dreams. And she went for the biggest of challenges, the grandest goals.

She had no pathlines to where I've come.

I look back and I smile proudly at a enchanting little girl who would be sad and disappointed about who I have become, knowing she'd share a silent tear and would try to tender all the scars I collected along the way.

Because she is good and kind...
... and I'm just completely lost. 

Unasked Answer

Quando você nem é a paciente, mas a terapeuta fictícia te disseca com precisão.

"I already know what's wrong with you.

You're unhappy. You're isolated. You think you're the cause of this unhappiness and are unworthy of affection so you've few friends.
Recently you lost something you think very important. Your lover, your faith, your family, or all three. You blame yourself for this, so it makes you neurotic, and you don't sleep and don't eat anything healthy anyway.
You used to take care of your appearance, but you've lost interest in that, so you avoid mirrors.
Sunlight bothers you, so you avoid that too, about which you're guilty because you think it's unhealthy and even immoral not to like the sun.
You're not a woman of convention or you wouldn't be here, but you like to pretend you are so people don't notice you. But you sometimes like that as well, and can dress to draw the eye. But then you think the men who look at you are fools, or worse, to be taken in by such an obvious outward show. So, instead you're drawn to dark, complicated, impossible men, assuring your own unhappiness and isolation because, after all, you're happiest alone. But not even then because you can't stop thinking about what you've lost, again, for which you blame yourself.

So the cycle goes on, the snake eating its own tail."
      - Dr. Seward to Ms Yves, Penny Dreadful, s03e01

Broken Heart of a Halfed Soul

where are you
when I most need you?

where is your smile
when I so bravely show you mine
behind this endless tears all this while?

where is your soothing voice
embracing my uneasy soul
giving it no other choice?

where is your warm skin,
the gentle yet wild touch,
the only touch about which I dream?

where in lies your deepest emotions
the ones to rule your choices
the ones to guide your thoughts?
is it with me,
the girl who feels you left behind,
dreaming of the day when you'll come back,
while your face colors my heart's darkest desires?

where... oh where?

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...