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Showing posts from February, 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…

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…

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 tha…

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 nothi…

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