It has been a while. My soul hasn't been properly into writing, lately. There have been too many things going on, especially through the last year, that one we barely left behind and almost one month has gone.
Yesterday, hasn't been exactly a good day. I woke up in a bad mood. I have written about this already, on another blogs, but it would have been my grand dad's birthday, if he was alive. A happy and remarkable day for me, until it was replaced by the emptiness of his death, back in 2010. When these days pass by, I always catch myself wondering if this is what life has to give us: a bit of joy, a bit of satisfaction, but then... Nothing else, but death, emptiness, sadness... We have some happy moments, but that's all about: little happy moments, until they're taken from us, as a child's taken from his mother's arms.
I get myself wondering quite often. I get myself with not so happy thoughts, through times and through moments that should be of joy and of contentment.
It got suddenly cold outside. The not so cold Winter, finally got the real cold bitch it is and I can't complain, because I love it. I hate getting pain in my hands, due to the cold, but I love the comfort of extra clothes, the cold breeze in my face, the humidity everywhere, the rain (if it rains) falling madly, the crowd of umbrellas, through the which it gets really hard to surpass at times.
My mood decreases as the seasons changes or as the weather changes as well. But not due to the increase of cold. And the increase of cold makes me wish to go outside, sit somewhere and to smoke a joint. I could spend hours sitting on that special place, seeing the open sky of the city, seeing what the altitude allows me to see, as the palace in the top of the hill, the land full of city lights, or simply the contrast in the horizon, of the sky and the city fighting for their domain. With this cold, Cabo da Roca is another tempting destination, where you see nothing but black: black sky having sexual affairs with the black sea, the light of the lighthouse disappearing in the blackness of the night and the sound of the ocean down there (how many souls live down there, due to the ones who killes themselves there? Or due to those who have been idiots enough to surpass the Security barriers and have been unfortunate enough to fall down there, on the rocks? Once again, calling on the past, we've been idiots to go there on excessive speed, through the curves of the night road, then to sit outside the wall, with the ocean down there, smoking joints. We were young and stupid, but we're fortunate to be all alive, each to their corner and lives. )
I have also had a "visit" at the cafe. I know, darling, I know, everytime I think about you, you'll show up. It's the cosmic magnet, like I said to that sweet and young boy.
It has been a while since I have seen you (seeing your dark car in the middle of the night and seeing your acceleration, to call on my attention, doesn't counts as seeing you)! It's been a while since my feelings got all messed up in my stomach, since I have got this madness of seeing you, of feeling you so close... And although we've basically ignored each other, I have felt. I have felt it so deeply in my guts, that it was almost as if you have penetrated meand hitted me in the bottom of being a bottom. I think you feel for me too, although not this bad.
I remember that night we went to that bar. A big group and I saw your car ahead in the road, with the high speed natural in you. I have been so close to you, on the madness of the alcohol and of the weed, that I craved that you've asked me to sleep with you. I would've said "yes", although I never sleep outside my own house.
It's enough. It's fucking enough - I love you, the same way you'll never ever love me. And it's enough being this decadent, weeping for a stupid love that existed for me only, while you've been honest enough to say you were into sex only. Poor idiot and innocent me, craving love more than anything at the time. It's enough of bringing down all those miseries, that lay in my diaries and that are the very few parts that'll possibly remain in their entirety. The same with all those poems, that are almost 2000 poems and quite possibly, half of them are for you.
It hasn't been exactly a good day. Nor a good night.
It begun with a fight at the cafe door, then pornography (homosexual porn), then music and finally writing down, because I am not well enough to let go of this without putting a finger in the wound and testing my ability to survive one more time.
It begun with way too much crap and ends up nearly in the morning, with me writing a lot and having to go to bed, before my mother wakes up (her alarm just started ringing) and starts yelling at me.
It hasn't been a good night. But it's time to finish it up.