Saturday, February 18, 2017

What's wrong with me?

What is wrong with me? What's wrong with how I am feeling? What's wrong with me tonight? 
My soul aches, in many different ways possible, but I still don't know why. I still have no idea what brings me to such a mood, what makes me stop in the darkest corners of my mind and of my soul, staying there and touching those old ghosts, embracing them with dry, yet painful, eyes.
From times to times, I come back to such doubts, to such pain, to such desires. I'll go to the window, after writing this text, I'll light up a cigarette and look to the same old buildings, the same old starry sky, full of the same old doubts, full of the same old bullshit. I know it's pretty useless, because things won't change, unless I try it hard to make such changes happen. 
OK. OK. I feel like I'm not making sense.
I feel. Therefore, I think and I think a lot. Too much. It can be overwhelming, the way those feelings affect me.
I feel. And what I feel is painful. So much of what I feel, I have felt it during most of my life. Some of the stuffs that I feel is stupid futility, others are thoughts about myself, my life, my options. I feel things I don't understand and I don't deal very well with not knowing what is hurting me this much.
I could harm myself. Or I could draw. I've done both. But this time, I write. I write non sense, without any order. I write about people, that may be real or imaginary...

Then comes a time that I feel pretty ridiculous. And there aren't many ways to let go of your feelings, when the things you used to do aren't part of your life anymore, if you don't feel clean after writing, when self harming isn't obviously an answer, when the thoughts won't stop and you can't let go of them either, neither you can go outside and walk the streets of the city. There aren't many ways to escape, when there's nothing good left and all you can see are ugly faces all around you. And, c'mon, by ugly... let's call it ugly souls. Everyone's so full of shit, everyone is so full of lied and there aren't many good people left out there.
I want to shut all those thoughts and lock all those feelings. And it feels impossible tonight.
I cannot hide the face of disappointment. And it all turns black. 

Sunday, February 12, 2017

Unexpected

I didn't expected that. Neither your sudden appearance, nor your proposal to smoke a joint. Through that experience, I did not expected your excitement for smoking with me. I didn't expected either our conversation. Your questions. Or even your words, your sweet, kind words, trying to make me feel good.
I didn't expected, buddy, that it turned out to be such a spiritual thing without entering on spiritual levels. And yet, you've made it. You've gone deep within my thoughts, my beliefs, touching on issues that I am always avoiding. For the very first time in a long time, you've asked questions that left me uncomfortable, that made me think what would have I chosen on different days, you've made me think... Think on so many things, that I avoid to think on.
It's been messing with me. It's been messing with my mind. And although it's good that I am forced to think and to feel uncomfortable until it becomes comfortable again, it's not good on my poor and limited perception of my own and poor feelings.
Thank you.

Friday, February 10, 2017

I keep running. I keep hiding.

I'm still running. I'm still hiding.
There are no reasons to run away, there are no reasons to hide, but I still do so.
One. Two. Three. I look away and there's nothing I can see.
I'm still running away. I'm still hiding away. And while I run, and while I hide, I look for the immense danger, I look for the immense adrenaline. I want him, one more time; him, who have had the pleasure of my body; him, who after pissing me off and making me telling him to stop and forced me to take him inside of me. I want to feel him, one more time... two more times... I want to feel and the lust and the madness of a full moon howling, in the streets of the city.
I walk down the dark and cold streets (I'm glad that I've mentioned them) and I look back, after listening to what seemed like a weep. Cats fighting or breeding a few more of them. They make strange noises, in the dark and cold streets, while they face each others. And I look back, because it might be the killer that I look for at times, while hunting down the danger and the adrenaline, of a dark alley. A wet, dark alley, that has the smell of piss, where a dark man takes me away from myself.
I keep running and I keep hiding, while I expose myself right in front of their eyes. 
I keep running. I keep hiding.
While young thugs piss me off and their shirty conversation feels like imminent rape. 
I keep doing something else. And running. And hiding.

Tuesday, February 07, 2017

Your (still) poetry!

I see you're still there. I see you still choose to write your poetry and throw your beautiful soul to the fire, as they dance around the essence, as they dance around such fire.
I hope they keep coming. And while they do, I know you are alive and that you're still feeling. And that's a sign. That's a good sign.
Thank you so much, Ayujaded!!

Sunday, February 05, 2017

Too much drama, madness and the need to enjoy myself

It doesn't matters where else do I write. It doesn't really matters where else have I written before - for a long time, I have been writing here, on this blog and this has been said, by myself, as being my origin as a writer of blogs. It's not my intention to be famous. It has never been. I have always written to myself, for myself and no one else.
I have a blog in Portuguese, that came as a joke of a friend of mine and it feels really good and really therapeutic to write in my mother language. However, it doesn't feels enough. It's never enough and after a few years of writing there, I have decided to get myself another blog, on a Portuguese blogging platform. There, I came to see some neat blogs and it's a pleasure to read what some people have to say. There, I came to see some bloggers to which I feel connected, because of the darkness within them (e já não me sinto tão só! ). Also there, I came across some drama, of so called bloggers who seem to have nothing else to do, but to attack and offend others. And this is something big, that drags onto too many other blogs and there is/are always the protagonist(s) on such attacks. I won't stop reading or commenting the blogs I like to read or the texts I feel I'd like to comment, because something awakened the urge in me, just because of some morons. On the other hand, I will not allow such drama and negativity to come across my blogs, by opening the access to the comment sections for everyone to read.
I haven't slept. It's almost lunch time and I still in bed, as it's Sunday. I have in the cafe until it were four in the morning, I went to the gas station to have a coffee and then I came home. My boss called me, because he went to the gas station with the dude whom he left the cafe with, to meet me, but I have already left. Then, my night was spent checking blogs, through the section of comments, following some authors of blogs, reading here and there and doing the same with the comments. For the sake of my sanity, I need to see other souls, to read them, to absorb them. For the sake of my sanity, I need to step back from the drama, even if I am reading authors who are attacked. For the sake of my sanity, I need to write as much as I want, divided in as many posts as it's necessary, just because it's my blog and it's my mind.
I don't ask people to read me. If they don't want to, I won't oblige them. In the past, as a younger guy, I used to ask people to read what I had to say, to give me their opinions, but that's not necessary nowadays. I write because I want to write and I feel that if I don't escape somehow, I'll go nuts. And if I go nuts, who knows what might happen? I have done so many stupid things and even recently I have suffered the consequences of stupid actions. And I need to stop myself from being so stupid again.
The night has been a mixture of funny and overwhelming. It's also been one of those nights that I feel that I could have had a better ending for it, but... well, I am happy that I've done it safely to home, that I have spent it in my bed, reading, checking future reading places, enjoying my lone time. I am choosing to stay at home and enjoy myself, enjoy my time, enjoy myself; it doesn't matters how crazy it sounds to others, but I am much happier in my corner, than I have been hanging the streets.
There are people out there, hanging the same streets that I do, who are worth my time and energy, but I haven't seen some of them in a while. Or those who I have seen recently, seem to be busy or with other plans, so I stay at home and enjoy myself.
It might be crazy, but I am just being myself.