painful

How does one writes when he feels his soul emptied of everything he held most precious and most dearest? How does one still creates if everything dies, if everyone dies, even hope?

Life has been a mess and although I used to write a lot about nearly everything, I just don't give in too many about what happens with me or in my life. It has been a mess and once things seem to start going well, something comes along and wrecks havoc. It's OK. I'm used to it.

Tonight has been another of those nights. I thought about you, auntie. I think about you daily and you were right. I'll remember you way very too often. And it would be OK, if I could make the ten minutes walk and see you in your house. But you no longer live there, the house that is or was for sale is empty and it's no longer your home. Now, its just an empty apartment in this city and our memories no longer live there. Way too often, I take glimpses at pictures of you and I see small videos that I made with you and your cats. Other than the love I hold for you, they're everything I have of you.
Tonight, while checking my social media or playing games, or while I pretended I was watching TV. Now, I believe you're in piece: you're with the grandparents (your parents) and you no longer say you want to die. We no longer go to the bank to pay your rent, nor do we go to the café to have our afternoon coffee. But I know you're in peace.

I wonder how does one finds strength to create, if you ceased to live and conformed to simply exist and if you gave you your creative affairs years ago. Is there some path along the way, that may help you to get up?

I wish I knew. I wish I knew anything.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Loucura - há algumas horas atrás

The Blessing and the Curse of Technology

The Idan Raichel Project com Ana Moura: "Sabe Deus"